Chapter 38: Chapter Thirty Seven

Athena

An hour later, the cab slowed to a stop in front of a black gate. I exhaled, reaching into the pocket of my hospital pajama top—only to find it empty. My stomach dropped. I hadn’t even remembered that I had nothing—no purse, no wallet.

The driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror. "That'll be €20," he informed me.

I swallowed hard. "I... I don't have any money on me," I said, panic creeping into my voice.

His face twisted in frustration. "You've gotta be kidding me."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my hands gripping the edge of my sleeves. "I was in the hospital—I didn’t think—"

The driver let out a long, exasperated sigh. He glanced at my hospital attire, then shook his head. "Fine. Just—just go. This is why I don't pick up people in hospital clothes." He grumbled. "Don’t make a habit of it."

Relief flooded my chest. "I’m really sorry. Thank you," I murmured, pushing the door open and stepping onto the pavement, my legs still unsteady beneath me. I shut the door behind me.

The cab sped off, leaving me standing on the brightly lit pavement, staring at the place I called home. The night air was heavy with something unshakable, something that told me leaving the hospital had been the right choice. But for some reason, the unease in my chest only grew stronger.

I approached the towering iron gates, my fingers trembling as I grasped the cold bars to steady myself. Exhaustion weighed heavily on my limbs, and the biting night air whipped around me, carrying the scent of an impending storm. My cardigan did little to shield me from the cold, and I shivered as I stood there, drained.

For weeks, I had lived in uncertainty, never knowing if I would see another day. Then came the last few hours—alone in the hospital, afraid, and unsure of what awaited me upon my return. But nothing could have prepared me for the news that greeted me.

Beatrix had accused me of theft before claiming I had run away. If I weren’t so utterly baffled, I might have laughed at the absurdity of it. But I was in no state to process her lies, let alone wonder about her motives. Right now, all I wanted was for someone to open these gates and let me in. 

I pressed the intercom button, my pulse hammering in my ears as I waited. A sharp crackle came through the speaker before a voice answered—a voice I recognized instantly.

Michael. The head of security.

"Who is it?" His voice was gruff, unfamiliar in its coldness.

"Michael, it's me... Athena." My voice was hoarse. "Please let me in."

There was a pause before another familiar voice came on—Jonah, Michael’s colleague. 

"Athena?" Jonah sounded surprised. "You're back?"

"Yes. Please. Let me in. It's freezing out here." My plea was desperate. They only had to press a button. Just one press, and the gates would open like they always did.

"Hold on." Michael's reply was short, clipped.

Then—silence. I heard no movement, no response. Minutes dragged by before I saw them approaching through my blurred vision. Relief flickered within me, despite the fact that they should have let me in already. It was how things used to be.

But something was wrong.

Their expressions unsettled me. Jonah was never the friendliest, but Michael and I had always been on good terms. Yet, the way he was looking at me now—like I was a stranger, or worse, a criminal—sent a cold wave of dread through me.

"Hi." I forced a smile, hoping for some sense of familiarity. "Why aren’t you buzzing me in?"

Jonah folded his arms. "Mrs. Sanderson ordered us not to."

My heart lurched. My stomach dropped. "What do you mean I can’t come in?" My voice cracked, panic creeping in. "This is my home."

"Not anymore." His tone was final. "Mrs. Sanderson's orders. You’re not to step foot inside."

A lump formed in my throat. "Please… I just need to get inside," I whispered desperately. "You know me. You’ve seen me live here for years."

I turned to Michael, my last hope. "Michael?" My voice was barely above a breath as I met his gaze, pleading. "Please."

Michael mirrored Jonah’s stance, crossing his arms. "Orders are orders, Miss Sanderson. Mrs. Sanderson made it very clear—you’re not allowed inside," he reiterated, his tone devoid of sympathy.

The absurdity of it all made my head spin. Beatrix was treating me like a criminal over something so outrageous, something I obviously hadn’t done. My chest tightened with disbelief and frustration. 

"She’s my mother—my legal guardian! Why would she do this?" My voice rose, laced with desperation.

"That’s not our concern. You need to leave," Jonah said with a shrug, his indifference cutting deeper than I cared to admit.

I shook my head vehemently, gripping the cold iron bars so tightly that my knuckles turned white. "I have nowhere else to go! My things—my ID, my clothes—they’re all inside! Just let me in for a moment. I’ll talk to her," I pleaded, my voice raw with emotion. 

If getting down on my knees would make them reconsider, I wasn’t beyond doing it. I would get down on my knees right here.

Michael scoffed, his indifference shifting into mockery. "Talk to her? If she wanted to see you, she wouldn’t have given us strict orders to keep you out."

His words struck me like a slap, sending a sharp pain through my chest. A choked sob lodged itself in my throat. "She can’t just abandon me," I whispered, my vision blurring with unshed tears.

Jonah’s response was sharp, cutting through the night like ice. "Looks like she already did."

I refused to accept it. I hadn’t endured years of being treated like a servant just to be discarded like this. I was close—so close—to breaking free, to carving out a future of my own. I can't give up now.

A lump formed in my throat. "Please," I whispered, barely able to hear my own voice over the roaring in my ears. "At least let me talk to her."

Jonah took a step forward, his expression hard. "Are you deaf?" he snapped. "She doesn’t want to see you. She made that very clear."

I shook my head, my vision blurring. My time in the hospital had been lonely and terrifying, and now this? I pressed my forehead against the cold iron bars, my body trembling from exhaustion. If they didn’t let me in soon, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stand. 

And if I collapsed here, would they even care? I wanted to believe they would, but I wasn’t foolish enough to hold on to that hope.

I exhaled shakily, my voice barely above a whisper. "Please… just call her. Let me speak to her." My voice cracked as my hands clenched the bars, desperate. "Maybe she’ll—"

"We already did," Michael interrupted, his patience wearing thin. "She said no. Now leave before we have to remove you by force."

Tears spilled over, hot against my frozen skin. My grip on the bars tightened as my knees threatened to buckle beneath me. "I’ve lived here for years. I’m her daughter!" My voice rose in frustration, a final desperate attempt to make them see reason.

Jonah let out a cruel scoff. "A daughter?" His lips curled in disdain, his eyes glinting with cruelty. "You think she sees you as her daughter? You were nothing more than a charity case."