Chapter 61: Chapter Sixty

Athena

Eros had invited me to his house, and from everything he’d told me about it, I knew it wasn’t just any home—it was sacred. No one outside the Belmonte family ever stayed there. Guests came only for informed visits, never lingering more than a few hours.

So the fact that he’d asked me to spend the night made me feel… special. Important. He’d reassured me that he was home alone with just the staff—his father had left on a two-week business trip.

I’d seen Villa Isadora before—on TV, in real estate magazines—but none of it compared to seeing it in person. It was paradise brought to life.

A soft breeze stirred the flowering vines trailing along the stone pillars. The sun cast a golden hue across the marble patio, enveloping me in warmth as I sat quietly on the cushioned bench. My fingers idly played with the hem of my dress, eyes drifting toward the distant hills.

Eros stood a few feet away, hands tucked in his pockets, staring out at the horizon with a faraway look in his eyes.

The silence between us wasn’t awkward—but it carried weight. The kind of weight that builds up from unspoken words and questions left unanswered.

And today, I wasn’t going to let the silence win.

"Eros… can I ask you something?" I said softly.

He turned his head slightly, giving me a gentle glance. "You never need permission to talk to me."

"You remember… After that day, everything changed. I asked you what you’d done, but you never told me." My voice was quiet, eyes still focused ahead.

"I remember," he said carefully, his tone cautious.

"You still haven’t answered me. Why?" I asked, finally turning to meet his gaze.

He let out a slow breath, a flicker of something—guilt, maybe even regret—crossing his face. I couldn’t tell.

"Because it didn’t matter," he said. "You were safe. That’s all that mattered to me."

I shook my head gently. "It did matter—to me. You can’t just rewrite a part of my life and pretend like your hands weren’t behind it." My voice trembled slightly—not out of anger, but from the ache of wanting answers.

"That was the whole point, wasn’t it?" He said quietly. "You were suffering in that house. You deserved better. You still do."

"I may not have known exactly what happened, but I noticed the difference. I’m not blind. When Alfred suddenly disappeared and a new driver arrived—kinder, more respectful—I felt the shift. Even life in Beatrix’s house… it changed. I’m no longer treated like a servant. She doesn’t snap her fingers at me or whisper those cruel little comments under her breath anymore."

I paused, studying his face, searching for what his silence might reveal. Sometimes, trying to read Eros was like attempting to escape from a maximum-security prison—impossible to crack, tightly guarded. 

Other times, it felt like staring into a mirror, his thoughts so in sync with mine that I could see them reflected in my own. But now… now was one of those moments when his mind was a locked vault, and I couldn’t find the key.

"Things like that don’t change overnight without a reason. So tell me, Eros… what did you do?"

"I did what I had to," he replied quietly, evasively. "You don’t need to know the details."

"That’s not an answer," I said, frowning.

"It’s the only one I can give you."

I fell silent, eyes fixed on him. I wasn’t going to back down. I needed to know. If Beatrix ever decided to revert to her old ways, I didn’t want to be blindsided again. That woman was like a storm—unpredictable and dangerous.

"Did you threaten them?" I asked, my tone firmer now, unwavering.

“No,” he said sharply.

“Then what?” I pressed, frustration creeping into my voice. “Did you bribe someone? Pull strings behind closed doors? What did you trade to make them treat me like a human being again?”

He turned to face me fully, his eyes shadowed with intensity.

“I didn’t trade anything,” he said, voice low but firm. “I reminded them who they were dealing with.”

I frowned, confused. “What does that mean?”

“It means I made calls. I used my influence. I uncovered some of Beatrix’s precious little secrets and made sure she understood exactly what would happen if she kept treating you like a disposable pawn in her perfect little campaign family,” he said, his jaw tightening as if recalling something bitter.

“You blackmailed her?” I asked, stunned.

“Not exactly,” he replied. “I simply held up a mirror to her sins. Alfred was the first to go—he was only there for his own gain, using his position to get closer to you. Replacing him with someone who actually had a conscience wasn’t hard.”

“And you never told me?” I asked, my voice trembling.

His expression softened. “Because I didn’t want you to feel like you owed me anything. Or worse, to think you were weak—like you couldn’t stand on your own. All I wanted was for you to breathe a little easier… to sleep without fear, to wake up without that heavy dread.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight with emotion. He was incredible—far more than I ever gave him credit for. Selfless. Unwavering.

“I didn’t know,” I murmured. “I thought maybe Beatrix had grown a conscience… but I should’ve known better. It was you. It’s always been you. For the first time, I wasn’t afraid to sit at the same table, to breathe without apology.”

I rose to my feet, stepping closer to him, my voice quiet but firm. “Why do you keep doing this? Protecting me from the shadows?”

“Because you deserve a world where people fight for you—not just against you,” he said, holding my gaze. “I wanted you to believe you earned that peace yourself.”

“I didn’t earn it,” I said softly. “You gave it to me. And I don’t know how to thank you… but thank you, anyway.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said gently. “Just live freely. That’s all the thanks I’ll ever need.”