CHAPTER 424: PARTY TIME III

Old Mr. Thorne adjusted the microphone with steady hands, though his voice, when it filled the hall, carried the weight of decades of grief and longing.

"Many of you know me as a businessman. A man of industry, of empire. But tonight, I stand before you not merely as Edward Thorne the magnate, but as Edward Thorne the father... and now, the grandfather."

The room hushed, leaning into his words. His eyes, pale yet burning with unshed emotion, scanned the crowd before softening on Athena.

"I once had a daughter," he began, his tone trembling, "a daughter who was my pride, my joy, my only child. She chose her own path, married the man she loved, and for a time, I believed life could be whole. But fate can be cruel. I lost her, and with her, the hope of an heir. For years, my wife and I lived in silence... just the two of us, growing older, carrying sorrow like a stone in our chests."

He paused, swallowing hard. The weight of memory bent his shoulders for a moment before he straightened, his voice lifting with fresh strength.

"Then, one day, thank God, I discovered I had a granddaughter. Not just any granddaughter, but one who had made a name for herself long before I knew her blood was mine. The infamous doctor Athena Caddels. A woman of courage. Of resilience. Of brilliance."

A murmur rippled through the hall, admiration laced with awe.

Mr. Thorne raised his glass high. "Tonight, I’m grateful for restoring what was lost. I thank the date etched in history for bringing her back into my life. And I thank Athena herself, for accepting me, for accepting this family despite all the storms of fate. Ladies and gentlemen, my granddaughter—Athena Cecilia Caddels Thorne. From this day forward, she shall stand as heir to the Thorne Empire."

The declaration set the hall ablaze with murmurs, gasps, even protests from the extended family seated near the front. Still, Mr. Thorne’s voice cut through their noise like steel. "It is decided."

Antonio’s fingers tightened gently around Athena’s as Mr. Thorne gestured for her to come forward at that moment.

He bent his head, whispering, "Ready?"

She nodded faintly, wishing her mother was alive to see this; the mother she knew. Together they began moving toward the stage. At the bottom of the stairs, Antonio stopped. He released her hand with deliberate reverence, offering her a small, proud smile. "This part is yours alone,"

The applause swelled, thundering as Athena ascended the steps, thundering the weak protests and glares of Cedric and his family. Lights cascaded over her gown, making the sequins along her backless dress glitter like stars. The sound of clapping, cheering, and champagne glasses clinking rose around her until it was almost overwhelming.

On the stage, Mr. Thorne lifted his glass again, this time directly toward her. His voice resonated, full of warmth and triumph. "To Athena!"

"To Athena!" the crowd echoed in unison.

She raised her own glass, the delicate stem cool against her fingers. Just as she tilted it toward her lips, a sharp, acrid scent invaded her senses—bitter, metallic, unmistakable. Her smile faltered, her nose wrinkling in instinctive revulsion.

Her frown was immediate and sharp enough to halt the chatter around her. The hall hushed.

"What is it?" Mr. Thorne asked, turning toward her, concern tightening his features.

Athena lowered the glass slowly, her voice firm, cutting through the silence. "It’s poisoned."

The words detonated in the hall. Gasps, shrieks, chairs scraping against the floor as guests recoiled.

A wave of panic surged, but Mr. Thorne slammed his hand against the podium in anger. "Lock the doors. No one leaves until this is resolved!" His command thundered, brooking no argument. Guards rushed to obey.

Down the floor, Ewan was already in motion, anger and fear beating against him, his instincts driving him toward Athena. What if she hadn’t been sensitive?

For a split second, it was déjà vu: the annual Thorne party, the night Athena had accused Fiona of poisoning her drink. Back then, he had defended Fiona, foolish and blind. The memory stung, but he shoved it aside. This was different. This was now.

His eyes locked on Athena’s. He would not make the same mistake again.

–

The search began swiftly. Guests were questioned, servers lined up against the walls, trays inspected under sharp eyes. The once-glittering hall now felt like a cage of whispers and suspicion.

Athena stood near the edge of the stage, her glass set aside untouched. She scanned the chaos, her jaw set, refusing to let fear take root. Then her gaze found Ewan, who was just a few feet away.

He met her eyes instantly, as if he had been waiting for it. His expression softened, the smallest of nods offered—silent reassurance, a vow without words that she wasn’t alone. A breath escaped her lungs, easing tension from her chest. Her lips curved in the faintest, grateful smile.

But the moment fractured. From the corner of her vision, she caught sight of Victoria.

Gliding through the throng like a predator cloaked in silk, Victoria sidled up to Ewan, her painted smile sharp as a blade. Without hesitation, she slipped her hand around his arm, leaning in as though she belonged there.

Athena’s eyes widened, disbelief flashing across her features. Moreso, when Ewan didn’t push the woman just as soon.

Confusion twisted into hurt, then into something darker. Her chest tightened, a hot coil of anger flaring beneath her ribs. Betrayal pricked like needles. Why wasn’t he pulling away? Why wasn’t he making it clear?

Her pulse hammered, and before she could stop herself, the fire turned into rage. She tore her gaze from him, unwilling to let him see the storm in her eyes. Just then, Antonio touched her arm, grounding her back into the present. His eyes searched hers, steady, loving.

She clung to that, forcing herself to breathe evenly. Whatever storm brewed across the hall, she wouldn’t fuel it with her gaze.

She didn’t see, then, the instant Ewan disentangled himself from Victoria, his scowl breaking across his face as he shoved her hand off with finality; as he moved away, toward his friends, his jaw hard with restrained fury.