"We were hurt when our daughter and her husband died... your parents," Florence started, taking Athena’s hands in hers, not sure how to tell the story, how to relive the mory she could never get used to.
Grief always did that. You never get used to it.
"For weeks, I raged—months in—I blad everyone, blad your grandfather, especially when he wouldn’t do anything about it."
A pause.
"He did do sothing, but he didn’t want to get his hands dirty. Said Emily wouldn’t like it, and I told him that Emily wasn’t alive to see him do anything." She chuckled drily, the sound brittle, hollow.
"I just wanted the people behind it dead. I went into depression. Then I beca crazy. Muttered to myself a whole lot, even had an investigation board. It all pointed to his sister... but he wouldn’t do anything. There wasn’t any evidence, just my instincts and one or two coincidences."
Athena squeezed her grandmother’s hands when the latter stopped talking, eyes softening.
Florence shrugged, shrugging too a couple of mories aside—mories of her cheerful daughter. "So I hired an assassin."
She wetted her lips, her gaze montarily distant. "You rember Connor?"
Athena nodded slowly, rembering Florence’s reaction when she had seen Connor the first ti. Yet, Connor couldn’t possibly be the person being talked about here.
"His father was an assassin... I think bloodshed runs in the family. Anyway, I tasked him to eliminate Edward’s sister and her husband. You know, an eye for an eye." Her brows pinched together, sorrow flooding her face as her mind stread together the next piece of the story.
"He hit the wrong target. I’m not sure what happened. But he killed the wrong people, had the wrong source... I’m not sure if Edward’s sister had been aware of the kill plan, if Connor’s father had talked too much—maybe confided in an unreliable person—but when I had gotten the report from him, when I had seen the late couple on the news, I had been heartbroken further. My mind descended into chaos. I had to be admitted into the psychiatric ward."
Athena’s mouth was open, the sa with her friends.
"Of course, everything was kept under the covers... but it was a dark ti. I also went for therapy. When I was done, I let go of the revenge—it just wasn’t worth it. It almost destroyed my marriage."
Florence looked at old Mr. Thorne, who gave a sad smile. "It was just a trying ti. It was why I had told you to let hard feelings go. Life has a way of righting things at the right ti. But for your own peace of mind, let it go so that you can heal."
Athena was speechless. Florence? In a psychiatric ward? She couldn’t even picture it, but she knew there was no lie in the statents.
She took her lower lip in, poring over all that she had heard. Her grandmother’s words months ago had been the reason why she had called a truce with Ewan then, but it hadn’t been enough to save her from a mistake this ti—because she hadn’t really accepted the lesson, hadn’t let it fan out and make the necessary impact within her.
She would take her therapy sessions more seriously from henceforth.
And she had an apology to render.
Apologies, if she included Sandro, and Zane who had almost bitten her head off when he ca to the company two days ago. And there was her family, who she had neglected...
She sighed, terribly weary. "I am sorry."
She looked at each and everyone in the room. "I’m so sorry for my actions these past days."
She was forgiven easily, because really, they had all been waiting for this mont.
Chelsea dived at her first. "I almost knocked your head one ti... with your prideful nose in the air..."
Athena chuckled, feeling light already, hugging her friend, gasping when Areso and Gianna dumped themselves on her in a tight embrace.
Florence had already left the bed, too old for such gas. But she was smiling, pleased that their work tonight had been fruitful. Her smile widened when she felt her husband’s hand around her waist.
"You know I would never have let you go then..." he murmured.
She snorted softly, relaxing into his chest. "I know, my love. Thank you."
Old Mr. Thorne kissed her on her forehead, his heart filled to the brim with so much love.
"I have to tell you guys sothing..." Athena spoke a few minutes later, now sitting close to the middle of the bed, her friends fanning her, just before her grandparents left the room.
The old couple glanced at each other, then made themselves comfortable again on the sofa.
"What is it?"
She licked her lower lip, a bit nervous, but she didn’t see a better ti to tell this secret than when the spirit of forgiveness and joy was in the air.
"Well, you see..." she paused, tangling her fingers together.
"Athena... you can trust us with anything," Gianna muttered, but Athena was rather concerned for her grandparents, as it had to do with them.
She exhaled. "It’s about Ewan’s visit to his old boss. He didn’t tell you everything."
Significant silence filled the room.
Then she blurted: "He was behind the kill order for my mother. Grand-aunt was really behind the murder of my parents."
Thick, heavy silence.
"What?" Florence stuttered, her voice barely heard. She looked at her husband. "I told you..."
Old Mr. Thorne sighed. "I know. But we need evidence to tie it to my sister, I’ve told you that..."
Florence’s eyes watered as she looked away from her husband, her hands clenched tight on her lap. Then she startled, making everyone in the room jump in turn.
"What is it, Grandma?"
"The gang..." Florence muttered, losing color on her face. "Connor’s father was part of the gang. If that was so, could it an that he had accepted my paynt while being part of the killers—and inford Cassandra, your grandaunt?"
She paled further. "Could the couple have been chosen... knowing that I wouldn’t be able to take the heat?"
Old Mr. Thorne was just as pale as his wife, anguish tightening his features, as the revelation sank deep into the room’s stillness.
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