Chapter 51: Chapter Fifty

Athena

I stood frozen, the note trembling in my grasp. The words blurred before my eyes as a crushing weight settled on my chest. The air thickened, suffocating, pressing in from all sides. My fingers slackened, and the note slipped from my hands, fluttering soundlessly to the floor.

My breath came in short, shallow gasps, my pulse a deafening roar in my ears.

"No… this can’t be…" The words barely left my lips, strangled, as if something had wrapped around my throat, squeezing tight.

A shudder ran through me. My vision swam, the room tilting dangerously. The walls seemed to close in, trapping me in a shrinking space. Panic clawed its way through me—cold, merciless, unrelenting. 

My heart pounded against my ribs, each beat a hammering echo of my spiraling fear. My knees gave way, and I crumpled to the floor, trembling violently.

"I—I can't breathe..." I gasped, clutching my chest. Tears blurred my sight as I struggled for air, but it was useless. The air wouldn't reach my lungs. I was suffocating. Drowning on dry land.

Just as the darkness crept in at the edges of my vision, hurried footsteps rang out on the marble floor—sharp, urgent.

"Athena?"

Graham’s voice, laced with worry, broke through the haze.

I wanted to acknowledge it, to say something—anything—about how he’d finally called me by my name instead of Miss Sanderson. But before I could even part my lips, the darkness swallowed me whole.

\~~~~~

Graham

I had overheard the argument between the two girls—not that I was eavesdropping or anything. I was just concerned. The expression on Miss Sanderson’s face when she saw her visitor had been unsettling. She had probably been expecting young master Eros, not Miss Granville.

A few minutes after Miss Granville left, the silence from the living room made me assume Miss Sanderson had retreated to her bedroom. But an uneasy feeling gnawed at me, refusing to let go. Something wasn’t right. I decided to check on her—only to freeze at the sight before me.

She lay crumpled on the floor, her body limp, her face drained of color. My breath hitched, fear slamming into my chest, sharp and unrelenting. In two quick strides, I was beside her, hands hovering with uncertainty, afraid that even the lightest touch might break her.

“Athena, hey. Look at me. What’s wrong?” My voice came out low, urgent. I shook her gently, hoping for a response.

Nothing. No response.

A sickening dread coiled in my stomach. Did Miss Granville do something to her?

“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath, my jaw tightening.

My pulse thundered as I cupped her face, my thumb brushing over her cheek, searching for any flicker of movement. She was too still. Too quiet. My breathing quickened, memories clawing their way to the surface, but I shoved them back. Not now. I had to focus.

“Come on, Athena… wake up.” I pleaded, my voice cracking.

Still nothing. My throat tightened. Exhaling sharply, I gathered her into my arms, cradling her as though shielding her from whatever had stolen the breath from her lungs. My grip was firm yet careful, instinctively protective in a way I didn’t stop to question.

“You’re safe. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.” I murmured.

I stood, holding her close to my chest, and strode toward the stairs, my grip unwavering. The note I had seen lay forgotten on the floor, its cruel message waiting to be read again.

Once in her bedroom, I placed her gently on the bed before reaching for the cordless phone. My fingers moved swiftly, dialing Eros’s number. The line barely rang before he picked up, his voice clipped.

“Graham? What is it?”

“It’s Miss Sanderson. She collapsed. I found her unconscious in the living room.” I said.

A sharp inhale. “Collapsed? What happened?” His tone was sharp, edged with urgency.

“I think it was a panic attack. She must’ve passed out. Scarlett—Miss Granville was here a few minutes ago. There’s a note—”

“Scarlett?” Eros cut me off, his voice instantly cold.

“Yes, sir. I don’t know what she said to Athena, but she left a note. Whatever was in it must have triggered her. I found Athena on the floor, barely breathing. Should I take her to the hospital?” 

The pallor of her face and lips was deeply alarming. Her breaths were so faint that I could barely see her chest rise and fall. Whatever was written in that note must have shaken her so badly that it triggered a complete nervous breakdown.

I had seen and heard of cruel children before, but most were simply underprivileged kids, lashing out at the world—and the parents who had failed them—out of anger and neglect. Then there were the over privileged brats, the ones who saw the world as their personal playground, indifferent to the damage they caused. 

Scarlett Granville belonged to the latter group—the kind who would destroy lives without a second thought just to get what they wanted.

Silence. Then, when Eros spoke again, his voice was lethal.

“No. Call Dr. Moreau. Have him check her at the hotel. I’m coming.”

“Understood, sir.”

The line went dead.

I wasted no time calling Dr. Moreau. Twenty-five minutes later, the doorbell rang. I hurried downstairs to let him in, then led him up to Athena’s room.

“Tell me everything. What happened?” he asked, setting his bag on the bedside table.

“She had a panic attack. I found her unconscious,” I explained.

Dr. Moreau settled beside Athena, pressing two fingers to her pulse before checking her pupils. He listened to her heart, his expression unreadable.

"Her heart rate is irregular—likely from the panic attack. She's dehydrated and physically drained. I’ll administer a mild sedative to stabilize her and prescribe something for the anxiety. What she needs most right now is rest—both physically and mentally," he informed me.

A tense silence settled between us.

Then, footsteps echoed outside the bedroom door.

I looked up just as it burst open.

Eros strode in, a storm of fury and worry written across his face. His gaze locked onto Athena’s still form, and for a moment, he didn’t move. His fingers curled into fists at his sides.

“How is she?” he asked, his voice tight but controlled.

Dr. Moreau stood, nodding respectfully. “She’s stable but weak. The panic attack took a toll on her. I’ve given her a sedative to calm her system. She needs hydration and rest.”

Eros moved to the bedside, crouching beside her. His fingers brushed over her clammy forehead, his jaw clenching. I’d known him for years, and I’d never seen him this worried about another person. 

After his mother’s death, it was as if he’d shut down, lost all capacity for genuine concern. But seeing him now—this protective, deeply affected version of him—made me realize that the kind hearted boy he used to be was still in there somewhere.

“What did Scarlett do?” he asked quietly, turning to me.

I hesitated before handing him the note. He snatched it from my grasp, eyes scanning the words. With each passing second, his expression darkened. His grip on the paper tightened until it crumpled in his fist.

“She’ll regret this,” he muttered, his voice like ice.

He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus on Athena. His hand slipped into hers, holding it gently.

“I’m here now,” he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.

Dr. Moreau gathered his things. “She should wake up soon. If she has trouble breathing or shows signs of distress, call me immediately.”

Eros barely acknowledged him, his attention fully on Athena, so I responded instead.

“Thank you, Dr. Moreau. I’ll see you out.”

As the doctor and I stepped outside, I glanced back at Eros. He remained by Athena’s side, waiting for her to wake up—no doubt already plotting his revenge against Miss Granville.

Over the past month, I’d come to see Athena as a daughter. I couldn’t understand why anyone would hate such a lovely girl. And after losing my own wife and child in a car accident, I knew exactly what kind of pain she was going through.