Chapter 55
“Athena, what is wrong with you?” Matthew snapped. “You know Michael is Willow’s fiancé–why are you still hanging around him like it’s nothing? Willow’s too kind to hold it against you, but don’t you think it’s time you learned some boundaries?”
His eyes were full of contempt. He couldn’t understand it. “The family has already arranged another marriage for Athena, so why is she still clinging to Michael like she can’t let go? Does she really think two–timing makes her look clever?‘
Joseph let out a derisive snort. “What else could it be? She’s just bitter–can’t stand to see Willow doing better than her. That’s what this is all about.
“Let me tell you something, Athena: the more you act like this, the more we’ll side with Willow. You try to steal everything from her like it’s nothing. Shameless.”
Athena had thought that three years in the military camp would’ve hardened her completely–that she’d seen enough of the world’s cruelty to be immune. But these two still managed to push her buttons with ease.
She lifted her chin, voice sharp. “And which one of you actually saw me all over Michael?”
“Someone told us,” Matthew snapped. “It’s Willow’s birthday, and you just had to make her cry, didn’t you? Was ruining her day the only way you could feel good about yourself?”
Sure, they didn’t have proof. But if Willow ended up in tears, Athena had to be the reason. That was enough for him. As her older brother, he felt obligated to stand up for her.
Joseph sneered, “You just don’t know when to quit. Willow was crying her eyes out and you’re still pretending to be innocent?”
“Oh?” Athena let out a low, amused hum. She looked at the two of them with pity, as if they were children who hadn’t figured out how the world worked. “So, let me get this straight. She can’t keep her own fiancé in line, and instead of holding him accountable, you two come after me? If Michael takes a concubine in the future and she can’t handle it, will you come throw mud at her too?”
She gave a cold laugh. “What kind of proper young lady cries day in, day out? Crying her way through life like that–no wonder her luck’s running out. It’s pathetic.”
The brothers‘ expressions darkened instantly. Matthew’s face went bright red, while Joseph turned pale with fury. “Athena!” Matthew growled. “You’re not just heartless–you’re shameless! So you’re admitting it, then?”
“I own what I do,” Athena said flatly. “Can Willow say the same?”
Her voice was cold, cutting right to the bone. “If she’s got something to say, let her come say it to my face. And you two- how sad. If you really want to defend her, go question Lord Osborne. But no, you come after me instead. Why? Because I’m the easy one to bully.”
She paused, then gave them a mocking smile. “Oh, I get it. You know you can go after me without facing any consequences. But Michael? That’s a different story. He might actually hit back. Maybe with a whip.”
Her words hit like a slap in the face, peeling back whatever pride they had left. Because she was right—they wouldn’t dare lay a finger on Michael.
Matthew flushed with embarrassment, while Joseph’s face twisted with anger, caught somewhere between red and white.
Neither of them could say a word. For a moment, they just stood there, stunned and speechless.
1/2
Joseph’s fists clenched. Just as he was about to explode, he noticed two figures approaching from a distance.
A thought flickered across his mind. Without warning, he shoved Athena hard.
She stumbled backward. Behind her was the edge of the garden pond–not deep, but thick with mud and muck.
Athena hadn’t expected him to actually lay hands on her, let alone do something so petty in public. Her footing slipped, and she fell straight into the mud.
It splashed everywhere–her clothes, her face, even her hair.
Laughter rippled through the onlookers. She sat there, dripping and filthy, the scene eerily reminiscent of her childhood- those same cruel eyes, the same mocking laughs.
And then it got worse. Because just as she tried to collect herself, Michael and Willow stepped into view–right on time to see everything.

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