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.

Godfrey rubbed his hands together. "It's just a bridge loan. Five million. Rocha Biotech took a hit, I need to cover the margin."

Athena set her glass down. Rocha Biotech. Her mother's company. The legacy Godfrey had run into the ground while funding Gilda's shopping sprees.

"No," Athena said.

Godfrey blinked. "What?"

"You don't get a cent," she said calmly.

Godfrey's face turned red. "You ungrateful little brat! I raised you! I put a roof over your head!" He looked at Caesar, seeking a male ally. "Caesar, tell her! It's business!"

Caesar leaned back in his chair. He looked like he was watching a mildly entertaining play.

"Five million is pocket change," Caesar said.

Godfrey's eyes lit up. "Exactly! See, Athena? Your husband understands finance."

"But," Caesar continued, his eyes drifting to Athena, "I only spend it on my wife. If she says no, the vault is closed."

He handed the power directly to her.

Athena stood up. "You heard him. Get out."

Godfrey snapped. The mask of the loving father fell away, revealing the desperate gambler beneath. He lunged at her, his hand raised to strike.

"You bitch-"

Athena didn't flinch. She didn't have to.

Derik moved like a blur. He caught Godfrey's wrist in mid-air.

Snap.

The sound of bone fracturing echoed off the high ceilings.

Godfrey screamed, dropping to his knees, clutching his wrist.

"Violence in my home?" Caesar said, shaking his head. "It seems this hand is no longer wanted."

Derik hauled the weeping man to his feet.

"Get him out of here," Caesar ordered. "And tell the gate guards if he comes back, aim for the legs."

Derik dragged Godfrey out. The screaming faded as the front doors closed.

Athena sat back down. Her heart was racing, but her hands were steady.

"Thanks," she said.

"You used to beg me for money to give to him," Caesar said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You knelt on this very floor and cried for him. That woman is gone. Who are you?"

"I had water in my brain," Athena said, stabbing a piece of melon. "It dried up."

From the corner of the room, Emily and the other maids watched with wide eyes. The dynamic had shifted. The victim was gone.

Caesar wheeled himself back from the table. "I have a charity gala tonight. You're staying here."

"Why?"

"Because the media will eat you alive," he said, turning away.

Athena watched him leave. He was protecting her. In his twisted way.

She finished her breakfast. Then she went upstairs to the Blue Suite and opened her laptop. She logged into a secure cloud server-a backup she had made in her previous life.

She pulled up the Rocha Biotech financials.

Godfrey wasn't just losing money. He was siphoning it. Fake invoices. Shell companies registered to Gilda.

She had him.

The gala had ended hours ago. It was 2:00 AM.

Athena sat in the dark living room. The house felt wrong. The silence wasn't peaceful; it was heavy, pregnant with disaster.

Headlights swept across the front windows. Tires screeched on the gravel.

The front doors flew open.

"Get the stretcher! Now!" Derik's voice was panic-stricken.

Athena shrank into the shadows of the staircase. She watched as Derik and two other bodyguards carried Caesar in.

He looked dead. His head lolled back, his skin gray. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, staining his white shirt.

Dr. Vance, the family physician, ran alongside them, clutching a medical bag. "Get him to the medical bay! His heart rate is dropping!"

They rushed into the room on the first floor that had been converted into a mini-ICU. The door slammed shut.

Athena crept down the stairs. The smell of copper and sickness hung in the air.

She pressed her ear to the door.

"It's the Belladonna variant," Vance was shouting. "The inhibitors aren't working! His system is shutting down!"

"Do something!" Derik roared.

"I can't! His body is rejecting the standard protocol," Vance's voice was strained, the calm professionalism cracking under pressure. "We have to wait it out. Ice baths to fight the fever. That's all that's left in the protocol."

Prayer.

Athena knew what that meant. In her last life, Caesar's body had been weakened by years of this mysterious poison. That weakness was why he couldn't pull himself out of the car wreckage.

If he died tonight, she died.

She ran back upstairs. She took out a simple set of silver needles and several bottles of herbal extracts she'd secretly prepared earlier from the compartment of her suitcase.

She sprinted back down.

Derik stood guard at the medical bay door. "Ma'am, go back to bed."

"Move," Athena growled.

"He's dying, Athena. You don't want to see this."

"If you don't move, he will die." Her eyes were wild, ferocious.

Derik hesitated. He saw something in her face-not madness, but absolute certainty.

Athena shoved past him and threw the door open.

"Get out!" Dr. Vance yelled.

Caesar lay on the hospital bed, stripped to the waist. His body was convulsing. Every muscle was locked in a spasm of agony.

Athena ignored the doctor. She moved to the bedside. She grabbed Caesar's wrist. His pulse was erratic, thready.

She unrolled the leather pouch. Silver needles glinted under the harsh fluorescent lights.

"What are you doing?" Vance lunged for her.

Derik caught the doctor's arm. "Wait."

Athena didn't hesitate. She drove a needle into the pressure point at the base of Caesar's neck. Then another into his chest. Another in his wrist.

The convulsions stopped instantly. Caesar gasped, a ragged intake of air.

Athena uncorked a vial. She pinched his nose and forced the dark liquid down his throat.

"Swallow," she commanded.

He swallowed.

Seconds passed. The heart monitor beeped. Beep... beep... beep. steadying.

Caesar's eyes flew open. They were black, dilated, void of recognition.

He sat up with a guttural roar, a purely reflexive action, and his hand shot out, wrapping around Athena's throat.