The Scarred Queen's Rise (Athena) novel Chapter 346

Chapter 346

Chapter 346

Willow sat facing him, her voice soft with concern. “Michael, why are you drinking so much? Alcohol isn’t good for your health. You should really cut down.”

Willow reached for the wine in Michael’s hand, but he pulled it away.

Michael swayed the wine bottle in his hand, slurring drunkenly, “This… this wine’s the best thing ever. Don’t… don’t try to stop me.”

With that, he downed another glass in one gulp.

Michael’s breath reeked of alcohol as he slurred, his mind clouded, “She… she’s right to ignore me… I don’t even deserve her attention…”

“Michael, could you please stop talking about Athena?” Willow’s voice trembled, on the verge of tears.

She was sitting right across from him, yet all he ever mentioned was Athena.

Willow thought bitterly, ‘What’s so special about her? Does she really deserve all of this from him?‘

Michael’s face twisted between a laugh and a sob. “It’s all my fault… I wronged her. I’m the one to blame…”

Thinking of what he’d done to Athena, Michael was consumed by guilt, he couldn’t forgive himself.

‘Athena’s gone… she’s left me for good,‘ he thought, drowning in regret.

Willow stared at him with red–rimmed eyes, but her heart burned with hatred.

She thought bitterly, ‘I hate Athena for stealing Michael, and I hate how her shadow still lingers between us.‘

Suddenly, Michael seized Willow’s wrist with surprising strength.

She looked up and saw Michael, his face twisted in pain as he stared at her. Mistaking her for Athena, he slurred, “Athena, let’s… let’s make up. I’ll treat you right this time.”

“Michael, it’s Willow,” she said bitterly.

‘At this moment, I hated Athena with every fiber of my being, yet I couldn’t help but wish I were her,’ Willow thought bitterly.

Michael was so drunk he could barely form coherent words, yet his grip was ironclad.

He clung desperately to Willow’s wrist, refusing to let go as he kept slurring self–reproachful words.

Willow listened to those words, each one like a dagger to her heart.

Every syllable carved deeper, leaving her in lingering pain.

The deeper Michael’s love for Athena, the crueler he was to Willow.

She never knew he loved Athena this much.

Willow thought of Nona’s suggestion. She told herself, ‘Just this once. I’ll only do this once.‘

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Summoning boundless courage from the depths of her heart, Willow pressed her lips against Michael’s.

At first, Michael was dazed, but soon he took the lead, his confusion giving way to a passionate response.

The next morning, Michael woke up from a hangover, clutching his throbbing forehead as a deep frown creased his brow.

‘Last night… it felt like I was dreaming… But as soon as that thought crossed his mind, Michael realized something was off.

‘Since when do dreams feel this real?‘ he wondered.

He looked to his side. Though the space beside him was empty, every trace showed someone had just been there.

Then Michael’s gaze froze on a bloodstain marring the bedsheets.

Michael roared, “Someone! Get in here!” He stormed out of the room in nothing but his undergarments.

The maid rushed in from outside, her voice trembling. “Lord Osborne…”

Michael demanded urgently, “Who was here last night?”

The maid lowered her head, too afraid to speak. Seeing her hesitate, Michael snapped, “Speak!”

The maid fell to her knees, trembling. “Lord Osborne, I… I dare not say,” she sobbed.

Michael snarled, snatching the sword from the wall. “Answer when I ask! Do you have a death wish?” He pressed the blade to the maid’s throat.

The maid was scared out of her wits and sobbed uncontrollably. “Please spare me, Lord Osborne! Miss Monson said if this got out, she wouldn’t survive. I swear, I never meant to hide it from you, my lord…”

Michael’s sword slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor. His eyes darted about in stunned confusion as he murmured, “It was Willow… How could it be Willow?”

A wave of indescribable disappointment washed over Michael. ‘I actually thought it was Athena… I must be out of my mind,’ he thought bitterly.

Suddenly, Michael turned toward the door in panic, his voice quivering as he demanded, “How long has Willow been gone?”

“It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes, Lord Osborne,” the maid replied timidly, glancing anxiously at Michael. Then she added in a hushed voice, “Her face was streaked with tears. She looked utterly heartbroken.”

Michael’s eyes flew wide with shock. Snatching up his clothes, he bolted out the door.

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