Dark Revenge Of An Unwanted Wife The Twins Are Not Yours novel Chapter 472

Chapter 472: Comfort II

"How are you feeling?"

Athena’s voice was soft but threaded with relief.

Spider turned toward her from the bed, a wide grin splitting his face. He was sitting upright, shoulders straight, eyes bright—as though he hadn’t nearly walked away from death itself just days ago.

His color was back, his lips no longer pale, and there was a spark, one that she could conclude made him Spider, that and the familiarity she couldn’t just understand.

"I feel like a man who got a second chance," he said, smiling. "Thanks to you."

Athena smiled back. "And to Ewan," she added, glancing briefly at the man standing a few feet away.

Ewan’s presence was steady, grounded—and yet when he stepped closer, something inside her fluttered.

The memory of last night came rushing back before she could stop it: his lips, warm and insistent against hers, the quiet sighs between them, and the way he had pulled away, apologizing as though the kiss had been wrong when it had felt so heartbreakingly right.

She still felt that kiss—in her pulse, in her breath, in every stolen glance she dared in his direction. She blushed now.

Spider noticed it immediately. His brow lifted subtly as his gaze shifted between them, curiosity glinting in his eyes. Whatever he’d missed while recovering clearly intrigued him.

"I have a feeling," Spider said teasingly, "that something interesting happened while I was unconscious."

Athena laughed nervously, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You missed nothing worth mentioning, well apart from the recent updates on the Grey virus..." she murmured.

But her mind betrayed her again.

Hours ago, after that first kiss had left them both breathless; after Ewan had drawn back, his eyes still dark and hungry but full of conflict; after he had whispered an apology, she’d almost asked him for what—almost begged him to keep going, to erase every trace of Antonio’s betrayal from her skin and memory.

Instead, she’d swallowed her pride and changed the subject.

They’d ended up sitting together on the sofa, side by side, the air still thick with what hadn’t been said. He’d nudged the forgotten gift box toward her, and together they’d opened it.

Inside were things that had made her forget the hurt of the night:

A collection of her favorite author’s signed books, each wrapped carefully in soft paper. A stunning Areso gown—delicate silk in twilight blue, hand-embroidered with silver threads that shimmered like moonlight. A perfume set she had once admired in passing months ago. And tucked beneath it all, a silver bracelet engraved with her initials.

He always did remember everything.

"You think everything is perfect?" he’d asked quietly then, watching her expression.

She had only nodded, her tongue suddenly heavy.

"Good as news," he’d said softly, then leaned in to kiss her again—this one reverent, like a promise rather than a question.

She hadn’t trusted her voice afterward; she’d only risen to her feet, ignoring the way his eyes followed her, opened the door and wished him goodnight, not trusting herself.

Now, she pushed those memories down, forcing a composed smile. "I’m glad you are okay," she said to Spider, adjusting the blanket. "The family’s waiting for you downstairs. They’ll be happy to see you up."

Spider groaned playfully as he removed the drip from his arm. "I think I already woke the whole house," he muttered, glancing guiltily toward the door.

His earlier shout had, in fact, jolted everyone awake at dawn. He had mistakenly jammed the drip-needle slotted into his hand.

Athena chuckled. "They’re just glad you’re alive."

She all but ran out of the room, squirmy under Ewan’s gaze. And yet, he followed her into the hallway...

He caught her automatically, his hand closing gently around her arm. "Athena," he murmured, his voice low, still rough with sleep.

Athena’s heart tripped. She turned to him, pretending composure, but her body betrayed her. She yielded to his closeness without meaning to—the shape of him fitting against her like it always had, familiar and dangerous all at once.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, eyes searching hers.

She nodded. "I did."

"Did you think about him?"

Her breath caught.

He didn’t say Antonio’s name, but he didn’t need to. The way his voice dipped, edged with something possessive, made her heart stumble.

She should have said yes—that she had thought of Antonio, that he still lingered somewhere in her mind. But that would have been a lie. She hadn’t thought of Antonio at all.

Silence filled the space between them. Their breathing deepened. Her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat.

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