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

Cecilia Thorne. Granddaughter to Edward Thorne. Heir to the Thorne empire.

If she was still alive, that is. Wow. Athena mused, hoping the female was alive, seeing the faith shining in the eyes of Mr. and Mrs. Thorne.

She couldn't even pretend to understand the feelings sweeping through the couple—having a piece of their daughter back, moreso, a granddaughter. It was more than they could ask for.

Whoever she was, Athena thought, she was both lucky—and well, in for a lot of trouble—considering Cedric had been trained from birth to see the Thorne's empire as his. It would take a lot to dissuade him from his pursuit.

Fortunately, old Mr. Thorne wasn't exactly gentle, or a pushover when it came to serious matters.

Cecilia Thorne. They might be good friends.

Athena watched the couple murmur the names of their granddaughter under their breath, as if tasting the synergy of the two names. Then she looked at Ewan.

He seemed ridden with shock, and Athena felt a sinking feeling as her mind supplied the possibility of Cecilia Thorne becoming Ewan Giacometti's next obsession.

She twisted her fingers, unsure how to feel—uncertain if she wanted Cecilia to be found again.

Jesus! Get rid of that stinking thought, Athena! She cursed herself, hating that her mind could conjure such nonsense.

She shivered, shaking away the evil thought and the feelings that accompanied it. Wishing an unknown female dead because of Ewan?

What could she say? She was beginning to resemble Fiona! And Athena would rather be dead than be that woman!

If Cecilia had captured Ewan's obsession, so be it. She had Antonio as a boyfriend, after all; maybe then she could focus solely on Antonio while co-parenting smoothly with Ewan. Beautiful right?

No.

"Is she alive?" Florence finally broke the long silence.

The phone was on loudspeaker so Jessica Walters could hear the woman's hoarse voice.

She sighed. "I don't know."

"What do you mean? Tell me everything about my daughter and granddaughter now!" Old Mr. Thorne screamed, unable to contain his frustration.

Another pause. This time, however, it wasn't long.

"Well, Emily informed me when she was pregnant, made me swear to keep it a secret. I was present—Declan and I—when she told you she was going on a fashion retreat…"

A pause.

"It was a retreat, all right, but it was for the utmost secrecy of the pregnancy. She didn't want it to be a public affair."

"Why?" Florence was crying now, not bothering to stop.

"For the protection of the little one. They were getting threats—her and Declan. Threats to their lives and careers; she suspected it was from the family. Your sister, Mr. Thorne, and her family. Emily didn't want to burden you, didn't want you at odds with your only sister. She thought she could handle it alone, seeing as Declan hired bodyguards to keep them safe. The security detail were always around the house."

A significant pause.

"I was there when Cecilia was born. A beautiful thing. She got her father's black hair, and her mother's bold, brown eyes. Cecilia. That was Emily's name for her. Declan had no choice but to go along—you know how much they loved each other."

A sad laugh. A deep inhale.

"Immediately, I took on the role of godmother and nanny. It was easier since Areso was two then and could get around without giving me a headache. But then the threats worsened—as if the enemies suspected she was pregnant. There was contention for the positions… I'm sure that's not news to you…"

"Yes, continue. What happened then?" Old Mr. Thorne asked gently this time.

"Well, on the day you called her to visit, the baby was four months old. Emily was getting her weight back in check already, and she decided to visit her best friend, Miley—you know, Ewan's mother."

"Yes, yes. I remember her."

"And that's all I know. That was the last day I saw her." Jessica's voice had become hoarse too, clearly weeping too.

Old Mr. Thorne shut his eyes, pain filling him—overflowing. His daughter had kept this huge secret from him, because he had always been all for public displays and family parties. Yet, he knew he would have kept her secret. He would have respected her decisions.

But what's done was done. His daughter and her husband were gone. It left his granddaughter. Was she still alive? He couldn't make further inquiries since Ewan's parents had been murdered in a gruesome manner too.

"Thank you, Jessica."

"Not to mention, Mr. Edwards…" A pause. "I'm sorry I've kept this secret for so long. It's just that…"

"I understand…" Old Mr. Thorne cut in, hugging his weeping wife to his side. "Thanks for telling the truth, still." And he ended the call.

He ended the call and looked at Ewan. "Tell me everything you remember. Where did you get the bracelet?"

"From Fiona," Ewan answered immediately, knowing the old man's patience wouldn't last as usual.

He watched Florence's head shoot up as if she'd been pinched.

"Fiona? Could she…"

Ewan shook his head just as quickly. "She's not the one. But she knows who has the bracelet. She refused to speak, however."

"I can make her talk," Old Mr. Thorne offered, knowing Fiona was still held captive by Ewan.

"Not to bother. I will do that myself. We can head there together, if that's convenient for you."

Old Mr. Thorne flung his free arm wide. "What's more important than finding my granddaughter? I'll follow you. We can even go now." He turned to his wife. "You will stay here. I don't want you to…"

But Florence was already shaking her head. "I'm coming with you. I'm not scared of a few broken bones and teeth."

Chelsea and Gianna exchanged glances. They both knew what was about to happen; as unsavory as it might seem—especially to Chelsea, who was a doctor and didn't know Athena's second job.

Old Mr. Thorne sighed and turned back to Ewan. "Can we go now?"

Ewan bit his lips. "The kids have to be prepared for school… breakfast…"

"I think that can be sorted out," Florence replied, wiping her tears, her voice strong again. Without another word, she left the room for the kitchen to get things ready.

"Mom, do you think Cecilia is alive?" Nathaniel asked, not exactly asking the main question in his mind.

Mom, do you think you are the missing Thorne?

"I don't know, sweetheart. I don't know. We can only hope she is. It would mean so much to your old man."

Just then, Ewan's phone rang out, breaking the silence. He furrowed his brows when he saw Connor's name flashing across his screen.

What was going on? He wondered, answering the call, hoping it wasn't bad news—that it was a call about the answers they were about to seek.

"Connor, what's the matter?" He asked after the greeting.

A heavy sigh, hinting at trouble. "Some men from our gang are here. I'm not sure if they know it's my place, but they're shooting outside, asking for Morgan."

Ewan's eyes immediately connected with Athena, then Aiden.

Without saying a word, he stood from his seat, walking out of the larger sitting room into the passageway, toward the room assigned to him.

"Don't open the door to them. Keep them out with some shots—make them think you're not alone in the house. Can you do that? I'm sending backup. We can't lose the captives. Am I clear, Connor?"

"Yes, boss."

And the call ended just as the door to the room opened. Aiden, Athena, Susan, and Old Mr. Thorne entered.

"What's going on, Ewan?" Old Mr. Thorne asked, his face firm like a soldier headed to war, eyes sharper than a knife.

"Some rescue team has arrived for Morgan and his friends. They're shooting up the house."

"Where is Connor?" Athena asked, already pulling out her phone to make some calls, knowing how precarious the situation was.

"Inside the house. Alone. I asked him to shoot out too—make them think he's not alone until backup arrives."

Aiden sighed. "Ewan, it will take at least thirty minutes for our men to match up."

"I don't think so," Ewan muttered, dialing Spider's number.

"Spider, send in the cavalry. It seems they've traced Connor's location. They're from your gang."

There was a pause on the other end—papers shuffling, the beeping of a laptop.

"Okay, Ewan. It's good I placed our men nearby. The new boss would have to deal with the death of some of his men."

Another pause.

"It's obvious he's taken the new contract for the Grey Disease—or maybe something else is at play... What do you think?"

"Just keep an eye on them. You're already an insider. Send any important info to me or Aiden. I'm counting on you." Ewan instructed, too wound up to think about the goals of his old gang.

"Sure, boss."

"How many minutes out?" Athena asked, eager to get out of her robe and into some trousers and a shirt.

"Five. I made the calculation right this time. Morgan won't be escaping today—or anytime soon. Let's go."