Dark Revenge Of An Unwanted Wife: The Twins Are Not Yours!

Family heirloom? Ewan swallowed, darting a glance at the bracelet still held gently by Florence, like it was a long-lost—but found—treasure.

His savior was a Thorne? Yet, how was that possible? There was no Thorne his age; except maybe Cedric. And even then, it wasn't a male that had jumped into the raging river to save him.

It wasn't a male that had been friends with him, playing and running down fields with him.

No, it had been a female. A female with black long hair, and the best of smiles.

There must be a misunderstanding somewhere, he thought, taking a step back before he could realize what he was doing. It couldn't be a Thorne. Maybe a similar bracelet?

"Why are you moving away? Won't you answer my questions?"

Ewan exhaled, sliding his hand into his pockets. "Let's talk in the sitting room. Standing is making me more tired than usual," He replied to Florence, who nodded frantically before gesturing to the door.

"This way, then."

Together, the people in the room thronged after Ewan into the sitting room, taking seats just as immediately, breakfast forgotten.

Kathleen sat with her father, while Nathaniel chose to stay with his mother, not begrudging his sister for her choice, because his father had proven himself trustworthy a good number of times.

"So, tell me, Ewan… the bracelet…" Florence continued from where she stopped, determined to get answers immediately. Her husband let her, because he too needed answers. How was his daughter's bracelet in Ewan's hands?

Athena was just as curious. Her hands clasped with Nathaniel's, her eyes were sharp as ever, as were her ears—ready to listen, to understand, and possibly make sense of why she was drawn to the bracelet too, as if it had been an old friend urging her to remember.

"The bracelet belongs to the girl who saved me more than twenty years ago from drowning to my death, as I mentioned earlier. Seeing as there are no female Thorne around that age, I doubt it belongs to a Thorne. Old man, it can't belong to Aunt Emily, too, because she was…" A little weighted pause. "Dead when I was two, or was it three?"

Old Mr. Thorne nodded slowly, leaning forward. "You are right, Ewan. There is no young female Thorne around… yet I can't be wrong—the bracelet is the Thorne's heirloom. Florence, please go get ours."

Florence shot up to her feet immediately, heading toward the passageway.

Five minutes later, she returned to the sitting room with two similar bracelets. She handed them over to Ewan, who took them gingerly and compared them with the one around his wrist. He swallowed again when he realized it was the same.

"Maybe it belongs to one of your sister's children?"

Old Mr. Thorne frowned. "My sister has only one child, and that child only has Cedric. There's no other."

Ewan exhaled tiredly and returned the bracelets to Florence. "Could it be that Aunt Emily misplaced it before her death? Maybe the girl who saved me stumbled upon it?"

Old Mr. Thorne shook his head. "I highly doubt that. Emily isn't one to misplace things. She is very careful… yet…" He exhaled painfully. "That is the only reasonable explanation there is…"

"Or maybe Aunt Emily had a daughter," Chelsea muttered, albeit loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

Florence's eyes widened, her mouth slackening, even as her husband shook his head.

"That's not impossible. Emily wasn't pregnant before her death—I would have known if there was a child."

But the frown didn't disappear from Chelsea's face, to the surprise of Athena. It was like her friend knew more than she was letting on.

"Chelsea, is there something we should know?" Old Mr. Thorne asked, unable to hide the hope shining in his eyes.

If Emily had a daughter, then… He had to willfully suppress the rising emotions within him, not wanting to hurt himself in the long run.

"I'm not sure. But, as you know, Aunt Emily was a good friend of Areso's mother…" She looked at Florence as she spoke her next words. "I'm not sure if you remember Jessica Walters…"

Florence nodded immediately, like an agama lizard. "Of course I do. She was the best student of my Emily…"

Athena's mouth opened slightly. Emily was a fashion designer. Just as Jessica was.

It was no surprise that Areso had followed in her mother's footsteps—or was it Emily? Athena wondered, remembering the first time she had come to the Thorne mansion, the shock that had overwhelmed her when Florence had called her Emily, because Emily had a suit that resembled hers.

"Yes, that. Well, once, I stumbled into one of the unused rooms in their house, and I saw baby items. It wasn't Areso's, because her crib is downstairs. This one was up in the attic. And then I saw some clothes… Areso mentioned that it belonged to Emily Thorne, her role model in fashion. Her mother never stopped talking about her best teacher and friend…"

A significant pause.

"When I asked Areso about the baby items, she mentioned that she wasn't sure who they belonged to. Her mother never spoke about it. As a matter of fact, her mother got cantankerous the first time she asked. Hence, she hasn't asked about it again."

Silence, tinged with tension, descended into the room. Florence broke it the next few seconds by calling on the butler.

"Get my phone!" She called out, hands shaking, remembering the year she hadn't seen her daughter.

Darting a look at her husband, she could see that he was remembering too—the year Emily had claimed she was on a retreat with her husband. Could it be that wasn't the case?

Yet, why would her daughter keep the pregnancy from her?

The butler brought in the phone in the next few seconds and handed it over to her. A bow, and he was out of the room.

Meanwhile, Athena was searching the internet about the woman called Emily Thorne. She gasped softly when the images of the late woman flooded her phone. The woman and her husband.

Athena's heart pounded as she noted the resemblance, understanding why Old Mr. Thorne had insisted that she reminded him of his late daughter, why Florence had called her Emily. It hadn't just been because of the clothes; no, it was her face, the angular nose, the brown eyes, the bow-shaped lips.

Only she didn't have the woman's dark brown hair. No, her hair was as black as midnight—like Declan's; husband to Emily.

Athena gulped in air.

Beside her, Nathaniel was battling disbelief too at seeing the pictures; feelings assaulted him in rapid succession—feelings that bamboozled him when he first saw Ewan's picture. Could fate be that funny?

"Hello, Jessica…" Florence's tense voice dragged Nathaniel and his mother out of their thoughts into the real world.

They watched as Florence put the phone on loudspeaker at her husband's gesture.

"Who is speaking, please?" Jessica's soft voice wafted through the phone.

Athena bit her lips, her mind starting to calculate Jessica's affection for her—one that had almost caused a divide between her and Areso at one time. Could it be because she resembled Emily Thorne?

Athena shook her head to dismiss the thought and listened to the conversation. People saw their doppelgängers every day. It was a normal thing.

"…Really? It's great to hear from you, Florence. It's been ages… how are you doing?" Jessica was happy to hear from Florence, that was evident from the happy lift of her voice.

"Yes, I'm fine, Jessica. Please, can I ask you a question?"

Straight to the point, Athena mused, clicking her phone off momentarily.

A pause ensued on the other end.

"Please go ahead, Mrs. Thorne," Jessica finally responded.

"Thank you, Jessica. Please, I want the truth to this question—nothing but the truth. Did my Emily have a child? Was she pregnant at any time?"

Another pause.

This time, the call was cut off.

If there was hesitation to believe that Emily had been pregnant at any point, that hesitation was gone. Ewan thought, watching Old Mr. Thorne take the phone from his wife and try again.

The call rang straight to voicemail.

He cursed loudly and used his own phone to make the call. Luckily, Jessica answered this time.

"Hello…" Her voice was tentative, as if uncertain what to expect, and Athena knew that the woman didn't know who was calling her.

Oh well.

"Jessica Walters, if you end this call, you end your career and that of your daughter, and possibly your life," The old man declared.

Really? Athena thought, now amused. The man had to go that far?

"What do you want? Who is this?" Jessica's voice gained a curious, annoyed tone.

"This is Mr. Thorne. Now, answer my wife's question."

Silence on the line.

A silence that lasted more than a minute.

"Jessica…" Old Mr. Thorne growled, patience running thin, feeling his heart leap at a fearsome rate.

A sigh echoed from the other end—a sigh of resignation that sealed the matter in Athena's eyes.

"Yes, she had a child. A daughter. Named Cecilia."