Dark Revenge Of An Unwanted Wife The Twins Are Not Yours novel Chapter 422

Chapter 422: Party Time

Athena stood before the wide vanity mirror in her room, her reflection framed in soft golden light.

For a long moment she simply stared, shoulders drawn back, chin lifted as if the glass itself were her first audience. Tonight wasn’t just another evening; it was her formal introduction to the world—not as the good doctor who blended into the shadows of labs and crises, but as Athena Cecilia Caddels Thorne, granddaughter of the infamous Edward Thorne, and heir to the sprawling empire that carried his name.

She let the weight of the name roll silently on her tongue, the decision she had made only hours before still echoing in her chest.

The family lawyer had asked, almost expecting, that she abandon "Athena Caddels," as if the person she had been until now was a discarded skin. But she had insisted, calm but unyielding, that her name remain intact—every part of it.

Athena Cecilia Caddels Thorne. A declaration of both past and present, of roots and reinvention.

A sigh escaped her lips as her gaze dropped to the gown flowing around her body. She turned slightly, admiring, but also critiquing, the garment that would carry her into this new Chapter.

It was a masterpiece of silk and shimmer, ivory in color with a whisper of silver that caught the light when she moved. The neckline plunged modestly in the front, drawing attention to the delicate embroidery of diamonds sewn like constellations.

The sleeves, long and sheer, ended in cuffs feathered with lace that brushed her wrists with every motion. But it was the back that made her pause—a daring cut, completely backless, exposing skin that goosebumped under the chill of the room. The gown clung where it should, flared where it must, the hem pooling like liquid light around her feet.

Areso had really outdone herself with this bespoke collection.

She smoothed her palms over the fabric, heart fluttering. Beautiful, she admitted, though her expression remained tight. She was the main character tonight, whether she wanted the role or not.

Her fingers lingered at her collarbone, brushing the diamond pendant her grandmother had insisted she wear. Somewhere deep down, she wondered if beauty was armor enough for the onslaught this new throne will give her.

Her gaze drifted, unfocused, as her thoughts slipped into the weeks that had built up to this moment.

It had all felt overwhelming, like being caught in a tide that dragged her from one shore of chaos to the next. But now, it didn’t seem that much.

Morgan’s capture still echoed across every news channel, his image plastered in endless loops of humiliation—handcuffed, condemned to life imprisonment. Yet she knew better. The president had agreed to Aiden’s persuasion, granting Morgan a place in the black cells instead, the truth carefully veiled from public eyes.

Still, the sight of his face on every television, every headline, was a reminder that their fight was far from over.

And then Kael. The night before still clung to her skin like smoke. His threat had settled in her veins like poison, an unanswered question twisting tighter with every hour of silence. Where were the doctors now? Which hideout sheltered them, what plan did they set in motion while the world outside danced at banquets and whispered over champagne? Would the virus be released today, in this very city, as she stood here polishing diamonds and smoothing silk?

Her fingers trembled as she reached for the vanity’s edge, nails tapping against the polished wood. She inhaled sharply, forcing her lungs to expand. What if they failed? What if she had miscalculated?

But her mind, stubborn as ever, veered sideways, conjuring other fragments of recent days. Bolin’s downfall—his capture and sentencing for abetting crimes, the scandal of his disinheritance plastered across tabloids. The other two, stripped of privilege and sanity, kept in a psychiatric hospital.

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