Chapter 4 Chapter 4

Athena POV:

I woke up in the alley, every part of my body screaming in protest. Sometime later, I managed to drag myself back to the mansion. The front door was unlocked.

Hardin was in the living room, staring at his phone, a deep scowl on his face. He looked up as I entered, his eyes immediately darkening with anger.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded, his voice sharp as broken glass. "I've been calling you for the past hour."

I glanced at my phone. The screen was black. The battery was dead from the water damage.

A chill that had nothing to do with my still-damp clothes seeped into my bones. "I couldn't get in," I said, my voice hoarse and trembling. "The security guards... they wouldn't let me in. They thought I was a crasher."

I took a shaky step forward, my resolve hardening. "And Carina... Hardin, she's not who you think she is. In the dressing room, she hurt my wrist on purpose."

"That's enough!" Hardin roared, slamming his phone down on the coffee table with a crack. The sound made me flinch. "I am so sick of you making things up, Athena! Carina is a sweet, kind woman who has been nothing but gracious to you. All you've done is try to sabotage her."

He stood up, his tall frame looming over me. "I am so disappointed in you."

His words hit me like a physical blow. Disappointed. He was disappointed in me.

The pain in my chest was so intense it felt like my ribs were cracking. It felt like he had reached into my chest and ripped out my heart, holding it in front of me, still beating, just so I could watch it die.

My fingertips trembled. "You believe her? Over me?" I asked, my voice breaking into a choked sob. "After everything?"

"Of course I believe her!" he shot back, his own voice rising, a flicker of something-guilt?-in his eyes before it was extinguished by fury. "Maybe you're the one who needs to cool off!"

He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into the bruised flesh. He pulled me, stumbling and protesting, towards the master bathroom. He shoved me into the large, glass-enclosed shower and turned the knob. A torrent of icy water rained down on me, the shock of it stealing my breath. I felt trapped, the cold spray a physical manifestation of his chilling anger. I collapsed onto the tiled floor, a shivering, soaking heap.

Suddenly, strong arms were around me. Hardin was lifting me, holding me against his chest. His voice was a soft murmur against my hair. "Shh, it's okay. I'm sorry. I just... I lost my temper. You just need to calm down."

He carried me out to the living room and gently set me down on the sofa. He retrieved the first-aid kit and began dabbing antiseptic on my scraped elbow with an almost reverent tenderness.

I watched him, my mind a confused, chaotic mess. One minute he was a monster, the next, a gentle caretaker. The whiplash was nauseating.

My eyes, red-rimmed and swollen, stared at him, a flicker of raw fear in their depths.

Did I ever really know this man? Or had I just fallen in love with a ghost, a character he had invented for my benefit?

He didn't come home for the next three days. I was left alone in the silent mansion, nursing my wounds and my shattered heart. Late one night, my phone buzzed with a news alert. It was a photo of Hardin and Carina at a gala, his arm wrapped possessively around her waist, their heads close together as they shared a laugh.

I stared at the image, my face impassive. I felt nothing. The part of me that would have felt a stab of jealousy was already dead.

The next afternoon, the front door opened. It was Carina. Alone.

She sauntered into the living room as if she owned the place, a cigarette dangling from her perfectly lipsticked mouth. "Still here?" she asked, blowing a plume of smoke in my direction. "I figured you'd have taken the hint by now."

I watched the way she held the cigarette, the practiced, almost bored way she inhaled. Hardin hated smoking. He claimed to be allergic.

"Does he know you smoke?" I asked, my voice flat.

Her face darkened. She took a deliberate step closer, her eyes glinting. "He tells me everything, you know." She leaned in, her voice a venomous whisper. "Even about the silly little notebook you keep, full of his promises." Her words were a brand, searing deeper than any physical heat.

"Athena! What are you doing to her?"

Hardin' s voice boomed from the doorway. He had just returned.

Carina immediately collapsed into his arms, sobbing hysterically. "Hardin, she... she tried to take my cigarette! She said I was a disgrace!" She held up her unblemished hand.

Hardin hugged her tightly, stroking her hair. He looked over her shoulder at me, his eyes filled with an icy rage that terrified me. "Hold her," he commanded to the two bodyguards who had entered behind him.

Before I could react, they seized my arms, pinning me in place.

Hardin' s voice was chillingly calm. "Carina is sensitive. She scares easily. You need to be taught a lesson." He looked at his men. "Don't touch her face or her right hand. We can't have any visible marks."

My fingers trembled. Tears welled up, thick and hot, and spilled down my cheeks. He knew. He knew my right hand was my life, and he was deliberately preserving it while allowing the rest of me to be destroyed.

One of the guards tightened his grip on my left arm, holding it steady while the other stood impassively by. The humiliation of being restrained, of being treated like a misbehaving child, was a gut-wrenching, silent sob that shook my entire body.

Through a blur of tears, I saw Hardin. He wasn't looking at me. His full attention was on Carina, murmuring comforting words into her hair as she "cried" on his shoulder.

He didn't even grant me a final glance.

A flash of white light exploded behind my eyes, and then, mercifully, there was only darkness.