"When one of the chief nurses told that you had co into the hospital earlier today to work, I couldn’t believe it at first—that you would flout a direct order."
Athena raised a brow, dropping the writing pen on the file before her, eting Herbert’s gaze, which was tainted with both amusent and worry.
Two beats of silence passed, and then both dissolved into fits of laughter.
"You..."
More laughter followed, with Athena getting out from her seat, walking over to Herbert, and giving him a side hug.
"You are crazy, old man," Athena said when she broke away from the hug. Even though their first linkup had been hostile—a catastrophe, to be exact—they had co a long way to beco friends and good working partners.
Herbert scoffed at Athena’s title for him. "I am not an old man, woman. If you call that, what would you call your grandfather then?"
Athena chuckled softly, indicating the seat nearby. "You have a good point. Maybe I’ll call you ’Elder’ instead?"
Herbert’s mouth opened like a fish before he shook his head, then laughed. "You are crazy."
He took his seat, pushed the chair forward, and rested his hand on the table, watching as Athena did the sa.
"So, you couldn’t stay away from work? That restless?"
Athena shrugged in response. "I’m sure you can understand. To people like us, work is more than an avenue to make money. It’s a dium to cope, to release the stress and tension coiled up in our bones."
"Truth. Only truth," Herbert concurred, clasping his hands together and looking around the office. "To be honest, I was half expecting you to show up during the weekend to see how things were going with the doctors."
Athena laughed. "I was tempted to, but I didn’t think it enough ti to flout your orders."
Emphasis was placed on flout, making Herbert roll his eyes—a quite comical sight to Athena, who chuckled all the more.
"So, how many files have you looked into? And what do you say about the Grey disease?"
Athena smiled—a happy smile. One that conveyed the relief and joy within her at the prospect of talking about this topic.
"More than fifty files, if I dare to say."
Herbert shook his head, a soft smile on his lips.
Athena wasn’t deterred.
"And I’m happy I did. The Grey disease is fading. I also got reports—emails—from our branches across the country. They are reporting the sa success. The sa good news ca from hospitals we supplied the vaccine to in other affected countries. Things are taking a huge turn. I’m so relieved that this fiasco is coming to an end."
"The sa here," Herbert agreed, reclining deep into his chair. "But it’s as they say—there are two sides to a coin. The Grey disease, as much as it wreaked havoc, also caused our governnts to beco more intentional about their citizens, to revamp dilapidated hospitals and cities, even give a boost to your na..."
Athena nodded. "That’s true. But I hope we don’t need viruses like this to up our ga. They claim thousands of lives, and that’s not worth it. Besides, I don’t seek my fa first."
"You’re right. At least we’ll be done with the disease soon. So when it’s all over, will you be staying with the hospital, or will you return to your practice in Antonio’s country?"
Athena hadn’t thought of that. But seeing as she was now a Thorne, she didn’t think she would be going anywhere anyti soon. She could pay visits, but that might be all, she reasoned, taking her lower lip in.
"I think I’ll be staying here. You might have yourself a permanent staff mber, Herbert."
Herbert chuckled. "I’m not banking on that. Seeing as you’ll be taking over the Thorne empire, I doubt you’ll have ti for hospital service anymore."
Athena laughed. "You never can tell, old man."
Herbert sighed fitfully and got to his feet. "I’m never going to be able to convince you to stop calling that, am I?"
Athena shrugged, then winked at him.
Herbert Whitman shook his head, smiled, his eyes finding the clock. "It’s already lunch ti. Will I interest you in a al at one of the restaurants across the street? I can give you the gist of your new family while we’re at it."
Athena looked at the heap of files on her table, opened her mouth to make an excuse, but Herbert clicked his tongue while shaking his head.
"No excuses. Didn’t you promise?"
It wasn’t exactly a promise, but Athena realized she might as well kill two birds with one stone.
"You win, old man. Let’s go then."
She covered the file on her table, smoothed the creases on her clothes with her hands, let her hair fall free from the band she had used to hold it up, patted the mass of silkiness, and then walked around the table.
"Aren’t you going to dust your face like I’ve seen your gender do?"
Athena scoffed. "I’m good, old man—unless you’re no longer interested in lunch."
Herbert snorted and led the way out of the office.
"I’ll be out for thirty minutes, Ciara, for lunch. Inform the doctors if they co searching for . If it’s an ergency, call ."
"Yes, ma," Ciara echoed respectfully, watching her boss leave with the head of the entire company, Mr. Herbert. How does it feel to be them?
"Make an order, Athena... or should I do the honors?" Herbert started, a few minutes after they had picked the nu in the high-end restaurant.
"Don’t rush , old man. You told it was a restaurant across the hospital, so I already had sothing in mind to order. But now you’ve brought to such a VIP space, and I’m confused."
Herbert laughed in response and beckoned to the waiter who stood a few feet away. "Get her number sixteen on the nu."
"Yes, sir!" the waiter shouted, a bit too enthusiastically, before hurrying off.
Athena’s eyes ran to number sixteen on the nu—it was a combo of so sorts; she knew half of the side dishes listed and resolved to eat those should the overall platter not appeal to her.
"So, tell about my new family," she started, sipping from the cup of juice before her—sothing Herbert claid would awaken her hunger.
"Patience, young woman. I’m quite hungry."
"Well, food is on the way. You don’t have to worry about that. Just drop the gist little by little—if that will stop the hunger from consuming you entirely."
Herbert was amused. "You are sothing else. Impatient, for one."
Athena only smiled in response, taking another sip, feeling her hunger start. Was this just orange juice? she wondered, looking at the cup.
"Well, to start with," Herbert began, "the family that just welcod you in is one of battles. As you know, in the Thorne family—I’m not sure if it’s a curse—but the won don’t usually give birth to many children. Just one."
"I don’t think it’s a curse. It’s just maybe genetics," Athena countered, taking another sip of the juice, which seed to quench her thirst yet make her more thirsty—and eager for food.
"If you say so," Herbert continued, drinking from a glass of water. "But it’s always been that way. I even traced it to generations past. Well, that changed when your great-grandmother gave birth to twins—your grandfather, and then your grand-aunt. Oh, and you lot have a longer lifespan than the rest of us too, coupled with a healthy stature even in old age."
Athena’s expression conveyed incredulity.
Herbert chuckled. "It was a thing of celebration, I heard. Things were peaceful until it was ti to share the inheritance. I’m not sure what caused the quarrel, but your grand-aunt wasn’t pleased with what she got. She was also interested in business at that ti, but was only given a few shares—probably because she was a woman."
"That’s bad."
Herbert nodded in agreent. "But ti tested her character. When your grandfather inherited the Thorne establishnt, it was nothing more than an old warehouse of goods and a few workers. It was also in huge debt. The few shareholders remaining were already talking about selling out—"
A pause. Their food had arrived.
But by this ti, Athena was already invested in the story; her hunger slightly forgotten. She looked at Herbert expectantly, while the latter unfolded the napkin over his utensils.
"Athena, eat. We can talk while we eat," he said when he noticed her not touching her food, struggling but failing to keep the smile tugging at his lips at bay.
"Promise? I don’t want you saying you don’t talk while eating."
Herbert smiled then—all teeth—in response, and Athena gave up sullenly.
The old man was a fan of not talking while eating. Liar.
She dug into her food with mild frustration, simring curiosity not letting her enjoy the large al that was number sixteen.
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