CHAPTER 418: GO HOME II

Athena’s sharp words landed like a slap across Antonio’s face, leaving him stunned in the quiet night air.

Go home.

She hadn’t yelled, she hadn’t raised her voice, but the steel laced within her tone carried more sting than a thousand shouts could.

Antonio stood frozen, unable to believe she had dismissed him so easily. His lips parted slightly, but no words came at first. His brows furrowed, drawing together in confusion as the sting of rejection settled into his chest.

His jaw shifted, clenching once, then again, as though grinding down all the words he wanted to spit out but couldn’t.

The turmoil inside him was violent. Didn’t she see? Didn’t she remember? He had been there when Ewan had tried to destroy her. He had stood in court by her side, had been with her those years ago when her strength faltered, carrying the weight of her battles even when it wasn’t his to bear.

He had fought for her, protected her, chosen her over his own comfort. And yet now, Athena looked at him like all of that meant nothing. She could dismiss him with three words, like a man who had no place in her world.

Antonio’s shoulders stiffened, his chest heaving, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. His lips trembled, caught between hurt and disbelief. Finally, when the silence clawed too deeply, he found his voice.

"You can’t be serious, Athena..." His voice cracked, barely louder than a whisper. He shook his head subtly, eyes locked on hers with desperate intensity, a storm brewing in their dark depths. "What’s a relationship without trust? How can you claim to be in one with me, and yet keep things hidden from me?"

He stepped closer, his voice gathering strength, sharpened with anguish. "Wasn’t I there when you brought down Lucas? Even in the court case? Why can’t you trust me the same now? What has Ewan been filling your head with? That nincompoop?"

Still on Ewan. Always on Ewan. Athena’s chest rose with a weary sigh, her gaze dropping momentarily to the ground. The tiredness in her bones seemed to spill into her expression, softening her face but hardening her silence.

She wanted to tell him everything—despite her grandfather’s warning—but she couldn’t. Doing so would put Antonio at risk. It would make him a target.

Her friends understood. They had accepted the half-truths, the evasions, because they trusted her. But Antonio—Antonio was as stubborn as the word stubborn. He always pushed, always demanded. He didn’t see that she was trying to protect him, shield him from the fire she was already burning in.

"Antonio, this is more than the court case," Athena said finally, her voice carrying the weight of exhaustion. She shifted on her feet, her shoulders heavy. "This is bigger than us all. I don’t want you being a target."

Her confession was quiet but firm. It eased some of the sharpness in Antonio’s anger, the defensiveness cracking slightly. His shoulders dropped an inch, his breath hitched, and for a moment, his heart softened.

Without hesitation, he stepped forward, circling his arms around her waist, drawing her close as though afraid she might vanish if he didn’t. His forehead pressed against hers, eyes closing, voice roughened with sincerity.

"I’m flattered you want to take care of me, my love. But I can do that. I also want to take care of you."

Athena’s eyes lifted slowly, her heart twisting with guilt. She wished—truly wished—that he could. But the reality was harsher. Her gaze held his, steady and unwavering, even as her chest ached.

"You can’t, Antonio. Not this time," she whispered. Her words were soft, but each syllable carried a weight that pressed against his chest like lead.

For a fleeting moment, Antonio’s face had softened. Then her words struck him fully, and the softness evaporated. His hands fell from her waist again. His eyes narrowed, confusion and pain colliding, and his mouth opened in protest.

"But he can?" His voice carried a bitter edge, dripping with accusation. His lips twisted, his brows arched sharply, and his voice shook with a wounded pride.

Always back to Ewan. Always. Athena’s patience thinned, her own frustration bubbling to the surface.

She shook her head slowly, the movement small but sharp. Why couldn’t Antonio see past his ego, past his obsession with her ex-husband, to the bigger picture? Why couldn’t he trust her to handle what was coming, to let her protect him instead of fighting her at every step?

"We can’t keep doing this, Athena. It’s not a relationship then." Antonio’s voice rose again, righteous, wounded, firm. His hands came up, resting firmly on her arms, as though to ground her, as though she were spiraling and he was the anchor she needed.

Athena’s eyes, however, were steel. Her lips parted, and though her words were quiet, they fell heavier than a hammer blow.

"Then maybe we need a break."

Antonio’s face blanched instantly, all color draining. His hands fell from her arms as if burned. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again, but no sound came at first. Shock widened his eyes, his chest rising in quick, shallow breaths.

"You’re breaking up with me because of Ewan?" His voice cracked, disbelief choking his words.

Athena rolled her eyes, her patience done, and took a step back. Her expression was tired, resolute, unbending. "Come back when you’ve gotten over your obsession with my ex-husband."

She didn’t linger. Her eyes flicked past him, already waving to one of the guards near the gates. "They will see you out. Have a good night, Antonio."

Antonio’s chest constricted painfully. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. His mind reeled as he watched her turn away. Just like that?

He reached out impulsively, his hand grabbing her arm tightly.

Athena hissed softly, wincing at the sudden grip, her head snapping back toward him.

"What the hell are you doing?"

The sharpness of her tone jolted him. His hands fell away instantly, guilt crashing into him. "I’m sorry. You just... you drive me crazy." His voice was strained, broken with desperation.

"Doesn’t mean you hold me anyhow you want to, Antonio." Her eyes burned into his, her voice low and warning.

They stood like that for a loaded pause, eyes locked, both breathing heavier than they should, the night air thick with tension.

Antonio’s mind raced, checking, contemplating, searching for a way to fix what had just unraveled. But Athena’s gaze didn’t waver.

"Go home, Antonio," she said finally, quieter this time, but no less firm.

Her tone left no room for argument. And this time, Antonio was wise enough not to reach for her again. He stood rooted to the ground, watching blandly as she turned aside, her figure retreating toward the sitting room without a backward glance.

His fists clenched tightly by his sides, nails digging into his palms. His jaw flexed, his chest burned, but he remained silent, swallowing the storm raging inside him.

When he finally sensed the presence of the guard behind him, his temper snapped. He hissed harshly, turning sharply, glaring daggers at the innocent man as though he were the culprit of his misery.

Then, with a stomp heavy enough to echo on the pavement, he stormed off into the night, curses searing Ewan’s name in his mind.