Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Just then, the Duke of Suffield – Henry Monson–walked into the room.
His commanding gaze swept over everyone before lingering for a moment on Athena. Then, turning to Margaret, he bowed respectfully. “ Mother p>
Margaret quickly waved him up. “No need for that, get up p>
After he rose, Nicolas and Willow both greeted him warmly. “Father p>
Only Athena, calm and detached, said, “Duke of Suffield p>
That one phrase froze the air in the room.
Henry frowned, as if he hadn’t heard her right. “What did you call me p>
A hint of anger crept into his expression.
Athena lowered her eyes and repeated softly, “Duke of Suffield p>
Smack! The sound of the slap echoed through the hall as Athena’s head snapped to the side.
“You ungrateful thing. Three years in the camp, and you still haven’t learned a single ounce of humility?” he roared.
He continued, “Calling me ‘Duke of Suffield‘–what, you trying to cut ties with the family? If you still don’t know your place, go back to the military camp and stay there! We don’t need a disgrace like you in this household p>
Eloise rushed forward, throwing her arms around Athena protectively. “Enough! If you have to hit someone, then hit me p>
Margaret rose to her feet, trembling with fury, and lifted her cane to strike Henry.
Tears streamed down her face as she shouted, “Do you have any idea what she’s been through these past three years? And now, right in front of me, you hit her? You might as well be hitting me p>
She had only just started to mend Athena’s wounded heart. And now, with a single slap, he’d torn it wide open again. He was her father. Her biological father.
Margaret tried to fight for her–but her cane never landed. The moment she raised it, servants rushed in and stopped her. She didn’t even touch his robes.
Athena stood silently off to the side, watching the chaos unfold, her expression cold and unreadable.
She thought, ‘So this is the family that promises never to hurt me again. How absurd!
Eloise turned in a panic to check Athena’s face–but before she could, a sudden cry rang out. It was Willow.
Everyone turned. A thin trail of blood was trickling from her temple.
The room fell dead silent.
Henry’s face twisted in alarm as he called out, “Quick! Call the physician p>
Nicolas’s eyes were red, his brows deeply furrowed. He looked like he’d rather have taken the injury himself. He said, “Why would you rush in like that? What if it scars? She can handle it–she’s used to it. But you? You’re delicate. You shouldn’t be hurt like this … ”
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hurt… I didn’t even think. I just moved p>
When Willow spoke, Henry’s heart ached even more.
Everyone in the room hovered around Willow, fussing over her.
Meanwhile, Athena stood quietly to the side, her check visibly swollen–yet no one paid her any attention.
She said nothing. A flicker of cold amusement passed through her eyes.
When Henry slapped her, Eloise didn’t even flinch.
But the moment Willow was accidentally hurt, that same “mother” had panicked like her life depended on it.
Anyone watching would’ve thought Willow was her real daughter.
Henry, still full of concern, didn’t forget to glare at Athena.
He said, “If it weren’t for you, none of this would’ve happened. Honestly, we never should’ve brought you back thirteen years ago. Should’ve left you where you were p>
Nicolas also gave her a disapproving look–but when he saw the bruise on her face, he hesitated, and swallowed his words.
“Enough. That’s enough. All of you, out,” Margaret said with a headache brewing behind her temples.
“Yes,” the others responded, withdrawing.
Margaret gently took Athena’s hand and began applying medicine to her swollen cheek herself.
She said, “Athena, don’t hold it against your father. He’s got a temper. But from now on, I won’t let anyone hurt you again p>
Looking into Margaret’s loving, weathered eyes, Athena couldn’t bring herself to say the sharp words that had been sitting on the tip of her tongue.
“Of course not,” she replied, forcing a quiet smile.
Margaret sighed. She wanted to say more, but fatigue overtook her. She waved Athena off to rest. “We’ll talk later p>
After helping Margaret lie down, Athena finally returned to her courtyard.
She had barely sat down when a familiar voice called from outside. “Athena, are you asleep p>
Irritation flickered across Athena’s face. She signaled for Siena to open the door.
Eloise stepped inside. Her gaze landed immediately on Athena’s swollen cheek. She walked over, her voice gentle. “Does it still hurt p>
Athena stared at her, silent, as if asking a question without words.
Eloise quickly realized how foolish her concern must have sounded. She hurried to continue, “Athena, I brought you some wound medicine from Harmony Apothecary, This one’s made by a famous physician–it’s the best.
“The healer’s been missing for three years now. His medicine is nearly impossible to find. Use it sparingly–it’ll fade your
bruises in less than a month p>
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She reached out, tucking a loose strand of Athena’s hair behind her ear. “Athena, I’ve let you down. I didn’t protect you when
you
needed it. If you’re angry, blame me. Just … don’t take it out on anyone else.
“From now on, I’ll treat you right. I promise p>
She pressed the medicine jar into Athena’s hand. Athena opened it–and saw right away that it was half empty.
She knew this medicine. She was the one who produced it. She knew exactly how much was supposed to be in a full jar.
Of course. It had been used already. Passed down to her only after someone else didn’t need it anymore.
Eloise noticed her silence and felt a sting of disappointment.
Athena hadn’t always been like this. She used to smile at everything she was given. Used to sweetly call her “Mother,” like it meant something.
Now, she was distant. Cold. A stranger.
‘Willow would never act like this,‘ she thought. “That child is so thoughtful, so gentle.
“Well, I’ll let you rest. I’ll stop by again tomorrow,” Eloise said.
Athena stood. “Take care, Lady Eloise p>
She made no move to walk her out. Eloise hid her disappointment, turned, and left with slow, unsteady steps.
Athena watched her go, a faint crease forming between her brows.
She thought, ‘If not for Margaret’s illness… I wouldn’t stay in this house another day.
Sara Lili
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.