Dark Revenge Of An Unwanted Wife The Twins Are Not Yours novel Chapter 479

Chapter 479: Damning Verdict

The long dining table glowed beneath the chandelier’s warm light, casting soft gold across polished wood and untouched plates.

Outside, the sky had already surrendered to evening, deep blue melting into night. Inside, the atmosphere was light, yet thick with disguised tension.

Old Mr. Thorne broke it.

His fork clattered softly against the plate as he set it down. "Athena," he said, his voice calm, too calm. "What is going on?"

Athena didn’t look up. She sat at the end of the table, her fingers wrapped around her glass, her eyes fixed on the dark swirl of juice she hadn’t touched.

Her grandfather leaned forward. "Why did you absolve the claims on social media? Why did you let Ewan take the heat alone? Did something happen?"

The question sliced through the quiet like a knife.

All eyes turned to her, worried and wary. Even the twins looked up from their plates, confusion shadowing their faces.

But Athena said nothing.

Her throat ached from all the words she wanted to say—the fury, the heartbreak, the humiliation. Every emotion she’d kept bottled since that moment in Ewan’s office churned inside her chest, clogging her tongue, pressing against her ribs.

She lifted her glass and set it down again, the movement small but sharp.

"Athena," her grandfather said again, more firmly this time. "When you’re silent, it makes it worse. You’ve told the children not to help Spider, not to lend any support in fixing this mess. Why? Why are you punishing him? Did he do something?"

She finally looked up, her gaze steady but empty, not even showing anything when she noted the panic in her children’s eyes.

She had warned herself, hadn’t she? Had tried to make herself see reason, had tried to explain to her grandmother even, that letting Ewan in, making the children trust him, might have disastrous consequences, and look... it was already happening.

It was not even up to a day, and they looked like the heavens just fell.

Old Mr. Thorne’s frown deepened, not sure what to make of this. Even Ewan had refused to speak.

"Did you both choose this play? Did you think this will protect us? That letting him burn while you stand aside will help anyone? Are you worried about the children? If so, you should have met me... we would have talked about it, like we usually do, over matters like this..."

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She swallowed hard, pressing her nails into her palm under the table, the pain grounding her.

Because how could she explain it?

How could she tell them that hours after Ewan had held her and promised her forever, he’d found solace in the mouth of another woman?

That the memory of his lips on Victoria’s made her stomach twist every time she closed her eyes?

That she couldn’t bear to hear his name without feeling that sting of betrayal all over again?

Florence’s soft voice broke through. "Athena, dear?"

She blinked, realizing everyone was still staring. The twins especially—two pairs of wide, uncertain eyes, watching her like she might shatter.

Her heart clenched. Anger shot through the roof of mouth, but she held it in... these were the wrong people to transfer aggression to. This was her family.

She drew in a slow breath. "Kids," she said gently, forcing a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "Go upstairs."

They hesitated, sensing the tension.

"Now," she added, her tone firmer.

The twins frowned, exchanging a look of protest, but when they saw her expression—that grave seriousness that meant she wasn’t to be questioned—they slid off their chairs and obeyed, footsteps echoing up the stairs.

When the last sound faded, Athena leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temple. The silence that followed was suffocating.

Old Mr. Thorne exhaled heavily. "What is happening to you, dear?" he asked softly. "We don’t need division, not now. Not when the stakes are against us."

Athena’s hand dropped to the table. "Division?" she repeated bitterly, her voice low. "You think I’m dividing us?"

Florence tried to soothe. "Your grandfather only means that—"

"No," Athena cut in, eyes flashing briefly before dulling again. "I can handle this without Ewan. I don’t need him. Aiden and I can handle it. If Spider doesn’t want to work for us anymore, that’s fine."

Gianna’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she said nothing. So, it wasn’t planned then? What could have possibly happened?

Old Mr. Thorne shook his head, unsatisfied. "You’re wrong, Athena. We can’t splinter now... You shutting Ewan out, ignoring this bomb... whatever he has done..."

"I’m done speaking," Athena interrupted, rising abruptly.

Her chair scraped harshly against the marble floor. Everyone flinched at the sound.

Florence’s lips parted, as if to call her back, but Athena was already walking away. Her footsteps were steady, but her heart thundered. She stopped briefly at the corner of the hall, her hand braced against the wall.

Behind her, voices began again.

She had told the guards to keep him away from the mansion. Away from her. He was only permitted near Spider’s cottage, and even that had been reluctant mercy.

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