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.

The relief lasted for two minutes. Then Caesar opened his eyes, and the walls went back up.

"You can go," he said.

Athena pulled her hands away. "Go where? The icebox?"

Caesar pressed a button on his armrest. "Mrs. Potts."

The housekeeper materialized from the shadows, looking significantly less arrogant than she had ten minutes ago. She kept glancing at Athena's robe with fear.

"Who gave you the authority to put the lady of the house in the condemned wing?" Caesar asked. He didn't yell. He didn't have to.

"I... I just thought... it wasn't ready..." Mrs. Potts stammered, wringing her hands.

"Prepare the Blue Suite," Caesar ordered. "Next to mine. Have it done before dinner."

Mrs. Potts paled. The Blue Suite was the second-best room in the manor. "Yes, sir."

Athena went back to the guest room to pack her meager belongings. As she folded the white dress, her phone began to vibrate against the nightstand. It danced across the wood, buzzing angrily.

Unknown Number.

Clovis.

She picked it up.

"Athena!" His voice was a roar. "You dared to stand me up? Do you know how long I waited in the rain?"

Athena laughed. It was a dry, hollow sound. "Three hours? Caesar waited all night in the storm for me once."

"Shut up about him!" That was a matter of a previous life. Clovis naturally did not know what Athena was saying. He just hissed. "Don't forget, I have those photos. The ones from the beach house."

Athena rolled her eyes. Photos of her in a bikini. Scandalous for a nun, perhaps, but hardly leverage in 2024.

"Send them," she challenged. "And I'll send the PDF of the embezzled funds from the Madden Trust to the Williamson Board of Directors."

Silence on the other end. Heavy, terrified silence.

"How... how do you know..."

"Clovis," Athena said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You think having the last name Williamson makes you royalty? Your father isn't even on the family tree. You're a tourist. And if you contact me again, I will ruin you."

She hung up.

She turned around. Emily was standing in the open doorway, holding fresh towels. Her mouth was agape. She had heard everything.

"So," Emily sneered, trying to regain her footing. "You have a lover. A fake Williamson."

Athena crossed the room in two strides. She invaded Emily's personal space, towering over the smaller girl.

"Go tell Caesar," Athena said. "Let's see who he believes. The wife who just cured his headache, or the maid who eavesdrops on private calls."

Emily opened her mouth to retort.

"And if you open your mouth," Athena added, leaning down, "I'll tell Mrs. Potts about the silver spoons missing from the pantry. The ones pawned on 4th Street."

Emily's face drained of blood. She dropped the towels .Emily doesn't know why the other party knows, and it's impossible to think that the person in front of her came back with her memory. Her secret doesn't have any privacy in front of Athena.

"Get my bag," Athena commanded. "Take it to the Blue Suite."

Emily scrambled to pick up the suitcase, her hands shaking.

Athena walked out of the room. She moved into the suite next to Caesar's. The walls were thick, soundproofed with layers of history and money. But as she lay down on the plush mattress, she felt the presence of the man on the other side of the wall.

The monster. Her husband.

Morning light filtered through the heavy velvet curtains of the Blue Suite. Athena woke up without the alarm.

She dressed carefully. No more robes. She chose a structured navy shirt-dress. High collar, long sleeves. It screamed authority.

She walked down to the dining room.

It was a long table, fit for twenty people. Caesar sat at the head, a tablet propped up against a crystal pitcher. He was drinking black coffee.

Athena sat at the opposite end, miles away.

Mrs. Potts entered. She placed a plate in front of Caesar: Eggs Benedict, perfectly poached, hollandaise glistening.

Then she walked to Athena and placed a plate down. Two slices of toast, burnt black at the edges, and a glass of milk that looked lukewarm.

Caesar didn't look up from his tablet.

Athena stared at the toast. It was petty. It was childish.

She stood up. She picked up her plate, walked the length of the table, and set it down next to Caesar. She pulled out the chair to his immediate right and sat down.

She reached into the bread basket in front of him and took a fresh, buttery croissant.

Caesar lowered the tablet. He looked at her.

"Mrs. Potts said the toaster malfunctioned," Athena said, tearing a piece of the croissant. "Funny how it only malfunctions for me."

Caesar glanced at the burnt offering on her plate. His eyes narrowed.

"Mrs. Potts," he called out.

The housekeeper hurried in.

"If the chef can't toast bread without burning it, fire him," Caesar said, his voice bored. "And Potts? Deduct half your monthly salary for serving trash at my table."

Mrs. Potts gasped. "Sir, I-"

"Take it away."

A maid rushed to clear the burnt toast, replacing it with a fresh plate of fruit and eggs within seconds.

Derik walked into the room. He looked tense.

"Sir," he said to Caesar. "Mr. Godfrey Madden is at the gate. He's demanding to see his daughter."

Athena's fork paused halfway to her mouth.

Caesar looked at her. He saw the flash of hatred in her eyes before she masked it.

"Let him in," Athena said. "We have some accounting to do."

"Don't let him muddy the carpets," Caesar told Derik.

Five minutes later, Godfrey Madden burst into the dining room. He was sweating, his expensive suit looking a little rumpled.

"Athena! My darling girl!" He opened his arms, rushing toward her.

Athena turned her chair slightly. Godfrey hugged the air.

He stumbled, regaining his balance. He looked at Caesar, shrinking slightly under the younger man's gaze.

"Mr. Williamson," Godfrey nodded nervously. Then he turned back to Athena, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Athena, honey, Daddy's company is in a bit of a tight spot. A cash flow issue. Your dowry... the trust fund... I need you to sign the release."

Athena took a sip of orange juice. "The dowry? You mean the price you sold me for?"

Godfrey laughed nervously. "Sold? Don't be dramatic. It's family supporting family."

The room went silent.