Chapter 9

“Well, isn’t she just the perfect little sister,” Athena said, lips curling into a smile–though it never touched her eyes. “If she wants to wait, then let her wait.”

The disdain in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed. Michael frowned.

The Athena he used to know had been warm, bright, always eager to please. He wondered, ‘When did she become so sharp, so cold?’

“Willow came to see you out of kindness, and you turn her away? Don’t you have the slightest sense of responsibility as an older sister? This is completely out of line,” Michael said, clearly displeased.

He thought, ‘A woman like this–how could she possibly be fit to stand beside me? How could she ever be the lady of my family?’ And Willow–he’d always treated her like a sister. He couldn’t bear to see her hurt.

“Do you remember what I said before bringing you home? Have you forgotten everything already?” he asked.

Athena arched a brow and looked at him steadily. “So, for Willow’s sake, you’d send me away again? What a fine fiancé you are–Willow’s future brother-in-law, through and through.”

The words struck her as almost funny. She thought, ‘I’m immature? Hasn’t he once said I am the most considerate, the most well-behaved? But that so-called maturity has come at the cost of my silence, my self-sacrifice.’

She had loved those southern pearls–but the moment Willow so much as hinted at liking them, Athena handed them over without a second thought.

Every pretty thing in her room–if Willow so much as glanced at it, Athena gave it without hesitation.

No one had ever asked if she was willing. It was as if being the older sister meant she owed Willow everything–for life.

Athena looked at Michael in silence. She didn’t say a word, but her eyes said plenty. And somehow, that silence made him uneasy.

He scowled, thinking, ‘She’s the one in the wrong–so why does she look like the one who’s been hurt?’

The air in the room grew tense. Sensing an argument on the brink, Aliza quickly stepped in to ease the moment.

“My lady… the wind’s picking up. Looks like rain’s coming. If Lady Willow stays out there and catches a chill, it wouldn’t be good…” she said gently, looking to Athena for a response.

Athena glanced outside. The wind had already picked up, and a distant rumble of thunder echoed across the courtyard.

At the gate, Willow was still standing there, quietly waiting.

A faint cough carried over, perfectly timed–soft enough to sound pitiful, loud enough to be heard.

Athena knew exactly what Aliza was implying. Everyone in the household already thought she was cold-hearted. If Willow fell ill from standing in the rain, they’d pin it all on her again.

And just subtle enough to apply pressure.

She didn’t care what they thought, but she was tired of the constant accusations.

“Fine,” she said flatly. “Let her in.”

Seeing that Athena was still wearing a frosty expression, Michael added coldly, “Willow’s not in the best health–you’d do well not to make things difficult for her."

“We’re getting married in six months, and she’ll be the one sending you off at the ceremony. If you make things too awkward between you, it won’t be good for anyone.”

With that, he turned and walked out.

When Willow was brought in, she wore a delicate, demure expression.

Michael, supporting her by the arm, looked down at her with unmistakable tenderness.

Once upon a time, he’d looked at Athena the same way–softly, like she was the only woman in the world. He’d told her she was the finest lady he’d ever known. But now, all that warmth belonged to Willow.

Athena’s gaze drifted to the sachet tied at Michael’s waist. Her eyes flickered. She recognized it instantly–the design on the sachet was her own.

Three years ago, Willow had come to her with a special request: she wanted Athena to sketch roses so she could embroider them onto a gift.

At the time, she’d even told Athena that roses symbolized everlasting love–she was making it for someone dear to her.

So Athena thought, ‘Even back then… something has already been going on between them.’

Willow, sensing the chill in Athena’s eyes, quickly stepped away from Michael like a child caught misbehaving. Her voice trembled as she rushed to explain, “Athena, please don’t misunderstand. Michael only helped me so I wouldn’t fall…”

Her voice was soft and quivering, laced with tears. “You know how clumsy I am–I’m always tripping over things…”

“You don’t need to justify yourself to her,” Michael said sharply, stepping protectively in front of Willow. “Only someone with a filthy heart sees filth in everything.”

Willow blushed and tugged lightly at his sleeve. “Don’t say things like that…”

She stepped forward and gently placed a tray on the table. On it sat a small jar of ointment.

Sliding it toward Athena, she offered a carefully crafted smile. “This is my fault. I should’ve come to see you sooner… I was just afraid you didn’t want to see me.”

“Oh? And yet you came anyway.” Athena’s voice was cool and laced with sarcasm. Clearly, she had no interest in playing along.

Willow’s eyes turned red, on the verge of tears.

She dabbed delicately at her eyes with a silk handkerchief and continued in a soft, pitiful voice. “I know you care about Lord Osborne, Athena. I would never try to take someone you love. This ointment–he brought it himself. It’s supposed to be excellent for healing wounds. I only came to return it to you.”

As she spoke, she nudged the jar a little closer, as if offering it in peace. Her expression was meek, full of feigned humility.

Athena’s gaze dropped to the jar, her eyes filled with quiet scorn.

A gift, dressed up as kindness. But this wasn’t concern–it was a performance.

She wasn’t here to help. She was here to show off, to remind everyone that Michael’s heart belonged to her now.

Athena thought, ‘If he truly only loves Willow, why go to such lengths to prove it? Real affection never needs to be paraded around.’

With everyone watching, Athena didn’t even reach for the ointment.

Michael’s patience finally snapped. His eyes darkened, and a storm gathered behind them.