Dark Revenge Of An Unwanted Wife The Twins Are Not Yours novel Chapter 448

Chapter 448: So far, so good. II

The soft light brushed through the part of the window not entirely covered with the curtain, falling over Athena’s face like a timid caress. She stirred faintly, groaning when the pull of a dull ache gripped the side of her neck.

"Damn it," she muttered under her breath, rubbing the sore spot as her eyes adjusted to the golden hue spilling across the sitting room.

She blinked, momentarily disoriented before realizing where she was. The throw pillow beneath her head had flattened somewhat into a lumpy mess, and the couch she had used as a makeshift bed had done little to help.

She tilted her neck to one side, grimacing at the sharp twinge that followed. "That explains it," she whispered, blaming the stiff neck on the throw pillow as she sat up slowly, her body protesting from hours of immobility.

Yawning, she stretched mildly, arms extended above her head until her joints popped, then slumped forward with a relieved sigh. She reached for her phone on the center table, the device cool against her palm. The screen lit up with the time—just minutes past six.

"Ten hours..." she murmured, a little surprised. She had slept for about ten hours straight. No wonder her body felt heavy but oddly well-rested—save for the ache in her neck.

For a moment, she just sat there, staring blankly at the silent room. The curtains swayed gently, the air faint with the scent of disinfectant and something metallic. Her gaze swept the scattered papers on the table, a few coffee cups, and some wrinkled tissues. A long sigh escaped her.

"Time to clean up before heading home," she told herself quietly.

She gathered the litters, crumpled paper, and used tissues, dumping them into a small bag before walking barefoot across the tiled floor. The soft pat of her feet echoed faintly as she moved to the kitchen porch, where she emptied the bag into the waste bin. The air outside was crisp, carrying the early scent of dew and wet leaves.

Athena lingered by the porch rail for a moment, the quiet stretching around her. The morning sun rose behind a thin veil of cloud, its warmth just beginning to cut through the chill. She folded her arms, watching a pair of birds flit across the yard, a small smile softening her lips.

Her mind, however, refused to stay quiet. It rarely ever did. Thoughts of the previous night resurfaced—of the call she had made to Ethan after sleep had eluded her for nearly an hour. The conversation had been brief but conclusive.

The merging would happen.

They had both agreed it was the right thing to do—combining the companies under the Thorne umbrella, creating a single, stronger entity. She had felt relief once the decision was sealed, though Ethan had mentioned that the legal processes and restructuring would take weeks.

Hopefully, by then, the gang and its problems would be a thing of the past.

She rubbed her arms absently, exhaling through her nose. "One battle at a time," she whispered.

Turning away from the morning light, Athena walked back inside and made her way toward the lab. Her steps were slow, measured, a quiet fatigue clinging to her despite the long sleep. When she entered, the faint chemical scent greeted her, sharp but familiar.

She paused, looking around at her handiwork—the labeled vials, the sterilized counters, the carefully sealed boxes stacked neatly in one corner. For a fleeting moment, pride flitted through her chest. It had been worth every labouring hour.

Crossing to the small kitchen space adjoining the lab, she turned on the faucet and cupped cold water in her palms, splashing it over her face. The chill stung pleasantly, chasing away the remnants of drowsiness. She grabbed a towel from the rack, patting her face dry before hanging it back.

She returned to the lab’s center, eyes sweeping the rows of containers once more, ensuring nothing was left undone. Satisfied, she bent to lift one of the cartons—the batch of packaged drugs—careful not to jostle their arrangement.

The weight drew a grunt from her throat, but she balanced it against her hip, picked up her handbag from the stool, and made her way toward the sitting room.

Halfway to the door, her hand on the knob, she paused. Something tugged at her memory.

"Rodney," she murmured under her breath.

With a soft groan, she turned around, setting the cartons gently on the table. She brushed a loose strand of hair from her face and started toward the stairs, the wooden steps creaking lightly beneath her bare feet.

Her knuckles rapped on the first door. "Rodney," she called.

After a moment, the door cracked open, revealing Rodney’s sleepy eyes and tousled hair. He squinted, clearly not yet fully awake.

"Let’s go."

He blinked twice, nodded, and closed the door again, presumably to freshen up.

She moved to the next door and knocked. One of the security detail who had followed her opened the door, his expression immediately attentive.

Meanwhile...

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify