Athena stood alone in the hallway until a woman in a stiff grey uniform materialized from a side door. Her hair was pulled back so tightly it pulled at the corners of her eyes.

"Miss Madden," the woman said. She didn't smile. "I am Mrs. Potts, the housekeeper. The Master didn't expect you to actually... arrive. The mistress's suite isn't ready."

"It's Mrs. Williamson," Athena corrected softly.

Mrs. Potts didn't blink. "There is a guest room at the end of the first-floor corridor. It's the only one available."

She turned on her heel, expecting Athena to follow. Athena did.

They walked away from the grand staircase, down a narrow, dimly lit hallway that smelled of damp earth. Mrs. Potts opened a door at the very end.

It was a storage room masquerading as a bedroom. The furniture was covered in dust sheets. The air was stagnant and freezing.

Athena walked in and touched the radiator. Stone cold.

"Apologies," Mrs. Potts said, her voice dripping with false polite regret. "The heating system in this wing is under repair. The technician won't be here until next week."

It was the same game they had played in her previous life. Back then, Athena had screamed. She had thrown a vase. She had stormed out and called Clovis, crying about the abuse.

Athena turned to the housekeeper and smiled. "That's fine. I prefer it cool."

Mrs. Potts's smug expression faltered. She looked like she had swallowed a lemon.

"Dinner is at seven," Potts snapped, then left, closing the door a little too hard.

Athena waited until the footsteps faded. She touched the bed; the sheets felt damp. Sleeping here would guarantee pneumonia by morning.

She wasn't going to sleep here.

She slipped out of the room and headed for the main staircase. She knew the layout of the house better than she should. She knew where the master suite was.

On the landing, she ran into Derik.

"Ma'am," he said, his body blocking the path to the east wing. "You shouldn't be up here."

"I was looking for water," Athena said, her face the picture of innocence. "The kitchen downstairs was locked."

Derik hesitated. He pointed toward a sitting room. "There's a carafe in there."

"Thank you."

She walked toward the sitting room until Derik turned the corner to continue his patrol. Then, she doubled back. She moved silently toward the heavy mahogany double doors at the end of the east hall.

From inside, she heard a sound that made her chest ache.

A deep, wet, suppressed cough. A sound of agony.

She stopped, her hand hovering over the wood.

"You don't belong here."

A hiss came from behind her. A young maid, Emily, stood holding a tray with a silver tea set. Her eyes were wide with jealousy and malice. Emily, the girl who thought she could be the next lady of the manor if Caesar just noticed her devotion.

"Get away from his door," Emily whispered.

Athena looked at the tray. Steam curled from the spout of the teapot.

"I have terrible cramps," Athena said, clutching her stomach. "I need hot water."

Emily's eyes darted to the master bedroom door, then back to Athena. A cruel idea sparked in her gaze. Everyone knew Caesar's bedroom was forbidden. Entering uninvited was a death sentence.

"There's a bathroom in there," Emily said, pointing at the mahogany doors. "With plenty of hot water. Help yourself."

She was sending a lamb to the slaughter.

Athena looked at the maid, reading the trap perfectly. "Thank you, Emily. You're too kind."

Athena turned the handle. It was unlocked. She slipped inside, leaving a stunned and gleeful Emily in the hallway.

Athena locked the door behind her the second it clicked shut.

The silence in the master suite was profound. Unlike the rest of the house, it was warm here. The air was thick with the scent of cedarwood, antiseptic, and something distinctly masculine.

The room was massive, dominated by a dark bed that looked untouched.

The coughing had stopped.

She heard the faint sound of draining water coming from the bathroom.

She moved quickly. Her dress was travel-stained, and the damp chill of the guest room still clung to her bones. She needed to wash off the Madden house. She needed to wash off the past.

The bathroom door was ajar. Steam billowed out.

Athena pushed it open. It was empty. The shower stall was glass, still dripping.

She didn't hesitate. She stripped off the white dress, leaving it in a pile on the tile floor. She stepped into the shower and turned the handle.

Hot water hit her skin like a blessing. She grabbed a bottle of black shower gel-Caesar's. She lathered it over her skin, covering herself in his scent. Sandalwood and rain.

Through the rush of water, she heard a commotion outside the bedroom door. Muffled shouting.

Athena turned off the water. She strained her ears.

"I know she's in there!" It was Alanna's voice. Shrill. Demanding. "Caesar, for your own safety! She's unstable!"

Athena smiled grimly. Alanna had come to 'rescue' her, which really meant ensuring Athena hadn't actually charmed the beast.

Athena stepped out of the shower. She didn't have fresh clothes.

She looked at the hook on the door. A dark grey silk robe hung there. It was huge.

Perfect.

She slipped her arms into it. The silk was cool against her heated skin. It swallowed her frame. She rolled the sleeves up, once, twice, three times, until her hands emerged. The oversized garment made her look small, fragile, and undeniably intimate.

She unlocked the bathroom door and stepped back into the bedroom.

At the exact same moment, the main bedroom door burst open.

It wasn't a key. Derik had kicked it.

Caesar wheeled into the room, his face a mask of thunderous fury. He had heard an intruder. He was ready to kill.

"Who the hell-"

His voice died.

He stared. Athena stood in the center of his sanctuary, barefoot, water dripping from the ends of her hair onto the Persian rug. She was wearing his robe. The lapels gaped slightly, revealing the creamy skin of her collarbone.

Derik, realizing the nature of the 'intruder,' immediately turned his back and pulled the broken door shut, standing guard outside.

Caesar's hands gripped his wheels. "What are you doing?" His voice was low, dangerous.

Athena didn't flinch. She walked toward him. "Emily said the plumbing in the guest room was broken. She told me to use this one."

She blamed the maid without blinking.

She stopped in front of him and crouched down, bringing her face level with his. The smell of his own soap on her skin hit him.

"You don't mind, do you, husband?"

The word hung in the air. Husband.

Outside, Alanna's voice rose again, screeching through the wood. "Mr. Williamson! My sister is dangerous! Let us take her!"

Caesar's jaw ticked. He looked at the door, annoyed by the noise.

Athena placed a hand on his knee. It was a bold move. He stiffened, but he didn't shove her away.

"That's my sister," Athena whispered. "She wants to take me back. Please... don't let her take me."

Her eyes were wide, pleading. It was a performance, but the fear of going back to the Maddens was real.

Caesar looked at her hand on his knee. Then he looked at her face. He knew she was manipulating him. He knew she was playing a game.

But he hated the screaming woman outside more.

"Push me," he commanded.

Athena stood up. A small, victorious smile touched her lips. She moved behind the wheelchair and gripped the handles.

Alanna stood at the bottom of the grand staircase, facing Mrs. Potts. Her face was flushed with fake concern.

"I simply must see Mr. Williamson. Athena has likely hurt herself, or him, by now. She needs professional help."

The elevator dinged.

Alanna looked up, a triumphant smirk ready on her lips. She expected to see Athena being dragged out by security.

Instead, the elevator doors slid open to reveal Caesar Williamson.

And behind him, pushing his chair, was Athena.

Alanna's mouth fell open.

Athena looked like the queen of the underworld. Her hair was wet, slicked back. She was wearing a man's grey silk robe that was clearly too big for her. It wasn't just clothing; it was a flag of conquest.

"Mrs. Potts," Athena called out, her voice lazy and bored. "Why is it so loud in my house?"

Mrs. Potts looked from Athena to Caesar, her eyes bulging. She saw the robe. She saw the proximity. She went pale.

"Athena?" Alanna choked out. "Why are you... wearing that?"

Athena brushed a wet strand of hair from her forehead. "Oh, this? Emily broke the water heater in the guest room. Caesar insisted I use his shower."

She lied so smoothly it was almost art.

Caesar sat silently, his expression unreadable. He didn't deny it.

"He... he insisted?" Alanna stammered. "But... you're sick. You're not well." She turned to Caesar, desperation creeping into her tone. "Mr. Williamson, she's having an episode. She belongs in a facility."

Athena let go of the wheelchair handles. She walked around and stood beside Caesar. She bent down, leaning in close. Her wet hair brushed against his ear.

"Darling," she whispered, loud enough for the room to hear. "Am I crazy?"

Her breath was warm on his neck. Caesar's muscles locked up. Every instinct he had told him to push her away, to break the contact. But the audacity of it... it intrigued him.

He looked at Alanna. His eyes were cold enough to freeze hell.

"She is my wife," Caesar said. His voice was flat, final. "And Williamson Manor doesn't answer to outsiders."

He gestured vaguely with one hand. "Derik. Remove her."

"But-" Alanna started.

Derik stepped forward, his bulk imposing. "This way, Miss Madden."

Alanna was herded toward the door like a stray cat. She looked back over her shoulder, her face twisted in humiliation.

Athena waved. A small, wiggling of fingers. "Bye, sister."

The heavy oak doors slammed shut.

The silence returned instantly.

Athena straightened up. The lazy, seductive smile vanished from her face as if a switch had been flipped. She stepped away from Caesar, putting a respectful distance between them.

"Finished acting?" Caesar asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Thanks for playing along," Athena said. "As payment, I'll fix your headache."

Caesar froze. His head had been pounding for hours, a rhythmic thud behind his eyes that usually signaled a long night of insomnia. He hadn't told anyone.

"I don't have a headache," he lied.

Athena ignored him. She stepped behind him again. Before he could react, her cool fingers found his temples.

He flinched, his hand shooting up to grab her wrist. He could snap it. It would be easy.

"Relax," she murmured.

She didn't pull away. She applied pressure, a circular motion that hit the exact trigger point of his agony. It was precise. It was professional.

The relief was instantaneous, startling him. His grip on her wrist loosened. His hand dropped.

He closed his eyes. Just for a second.