Chapter 79: Chapter Seventy Eight

Athena

I paced in front of the electronic doors that led to the elevator in the company’s underground parking lot, glancing at my watch every five minutes and wondering what the hell was keeping Eros.

He’d texted me around five this morning, saying not to wait for him because he’d spent the night at his grandparents'. That had actually made me happy. I liked the quiet. But now it was five minutes to nine, and he had a meeting with the head of global operations in ten minutes—yet he still wasn’t here.

“I’m not going to call him,” I muttered under my breath, shooting a glance at the black van parked a few feet away between two white Teslas. One of them belonged to Juan Jose—I’d driven that car for two years, so I’d know it anywhere. I moved closer to Eros’s reserved parking space.

The hum of the underground lot was low and steady, broken only by the soft flicker of the overhead fluorescent lights. I stood near the B3 column, arms crossed, heels echoing quietly as I shifted my weight from one foot to the other.

I hated waiting.

But for Eros... it was different.

It wasn’t impatience.

It was anticipation.

I was just about to head toward the van when I heard it—the quiet purr of Eros’s car. Not loud. Not flashy. Just a low, deliberate hum that rippled through the silence like silk over bare skin.

My breath caught. I knew that sound. I knew the car. I'd overseen every detail of its purchase and shipping—from the handcrafted build in Italy to its arrival in Eldoria.

A custom-made masterpiece from Orbis Automobili, one of the most exclusive marques in Europe. No dealership. No press. Invitation-only. It was the only model of its kind in existence.

The Aurelius Seraphim GT-X slid out of the shadows like a phantom, its matte black surface cutting across the polished concrete floor. There were no headlights on, only a soft halo of amber light beneath its chassis, casting a spectral glow like something not quite of this world as it came to a halt right in front of me.

The doors lifted with a quiet sigh.

And then—he stepped out.

Eros.

Dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, jacket slung casually over his shoulder, as if he didn’t have anywhere important to be. But his eyes found mine the instant he emerged—like he always knew where I’d be.

That gaze. The kind that made the world go still.

“Athena,” he said, voice low and smooth. Like the car. Quiet, but commanding.

I didn’t answer right away. My heart was still racing—from the sound, from the sight, from the way he always arrived like a storm wrapped in calm.

“You always have to make an entrance?” I asked, arching a brow.

He smirked. “I don’t try. It just happens.”

He walked toward me, and behind him, the car powered down like it knew its job was done—lights fading, engine silenced, presence withdrawn. Its master had already claimed the spotlight.

“Do I get to ride in it one of these days?” I asked, eyeing the car longingly.

“Don’t hold your breath,” he replied without missing a beat.

“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes and turned. “Let’s go. You’re almost late for your meeting.”

“Hold on.” He slipped on his jacket, patting down his pockets. Then he cursed softly under his breath. “Damn. I forgot something in the car.”

He turned back toward the Aurelius, and that’s when I saw it.

Just beyond his shoulder. I froze.

In the open van, just a few meters away, sat a figure dressed in all black. Silent. Still. Holding a rifle—aimed directly at Eros, who hadn’t seen it yet.

It all happened in a heartbeat.

One moment, I was standing five feet away from Eros. The next, I was lunging forward, slamming into him just as a gunshot cracked through the air.

Chaos followed. Shouts echoed through the garage as security guards came running from seemingly nowhere. Tires screeched, the black van tore out from between the Teslas, and vanished down the ramp.

Eros lay still beneath me, and a chill crawled down my spine. What if the bullet had hit him? I looked down at him with wide, panicked eyes.

Before I could say anything, two security guards rushed over and helped me off him.

“Mr. Belmonte, were you hit?” one asked urgently. “Should we call an ambulance?”

Eros groaned and slowly sat up. “No, I’m okay,” he said hoarsely. “What the hell was that?”

“An assassination attempt, sir,” the second guard replied, his tone grim. “The police have been notified. They’re on their way.”

One guard helped him to his feet, steadying him as he swayed. My heart jumped when I noticed his jacket sleeve was torn. I reached for his arm.

He looked down at it, then met my eyes. “The bullet just grazed me, Athena. I’m fine. It didn’t hit anything vital.”

“You’re sure?” I asked, not convinced. “You should still go to the hospital.”

“No.” His voice cut sharp, final. “I said I’m fine.”

I released his arm like it scalded me, stepping back and reminding myself of the line I’d crossed—again.

“Send the officers to my office when they arrive,” he instructed the guards.

“Yes, sir.”

He didn’t bother retrieving whatever he’d left in the car. He simply walked past me, through the electronic doors and into the building. I followed behind, slower, my thoughts racing.

“Reschedule all my meetings for later,” he said as we entered the elevator. “Preferably after lunch.”

“You have a conference call with the Chinese investors after lunch,” I reminded him. “It’s already been rescheduled twice.”

“Then leave that one. Cancel the rest. And have the head of PR see me after the call.”

“Of course,” I murmured.

The police arrived shortly after, took our statements, and promised to do everything to track down the suspect.

Later, when Eros emerged from his office, he said quietly, “Take a walk with me, Athena.”

It wasn’t really a request.

We went up to the rooftop. I didn’t mind. I needed the air, the distance—from everyone, from everything. The PR department was already drowning in calls from reporters, and the weight of the morning still pressed against my chest. It had barely been two hours.

The rooftop was hushed, save for the distant hum of traffic and the low drone of industrial air vents. Eros stood near the edge, his silhouette outlined by the harsh midday sun.

His suit was rumpled, hair tousled, and the hole in his jacket sleeve catching in the breeze made me wince. I lingered a few feet behind him, still trembling.

“You could have died,” I said softly.

He didn’t look back. The sunlight poured over him like gold, casting shadows across his face, making him seem distant. Untouchable. Almost untouchable.

“I should’ve,” he murmured. “He was aiming right at me. He had the shot."

I moved closer. “But he didn’t. Because I was there.”

Silence stretched between us, thick and weighty. Then he exhaled—a jagged breath that sounded like it scraped through him. When he turned, his eyes were glassy, rimmed red from adrenaline—or something far more fragile.

“You stepped in front of me,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Why?”

“Because…” I hesitated. “Because no one deserves to die like that. Not even you.”

He let out a dry, bitter laugh. “‘Not even me,’ huh?” Then, suddenly, the cracks begin to show. The armor he wore so well finally splintered. His shoulders trembled as he stepped toward me.

“I was so cruel to you,” he said, voice breaking. “All those months—God, Athena. I hated you for things you had nothing to do with. And when I felt you lying so still on top of me… when I thought you’d taken the bullet instead…” He broke off, his voice thick.

I blinked, not sure if I’d heard him right. “Eros…” I was startled by the rawness in his voice.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice breaking. “I’m so sorry for everything. I know I don’t deserve it—I don’t expect you to forget—but… please, Athena. Forgive me.”

The words hit me harder than I expected. I had imagined apologies from him before—cold, distant ones out of obligation or pride—but never this. Never from a man who looked like he was breaking apart in front of me.

He was unraveling, and all I could think was… this wasn’t the Eros I had known. Not the sharp-tongued, guarded man who kept everyone at a distance. This was the man buried beneath all that armor. Wounded. Real.

I’d seen his anger, his indifference. I’d faced his cruelty more times than I could count. But I had never seen him cry. Never seen him look at me like this—like he wasn’t sure he deserved to.

And for a moment, I was back in his office months ago, when my own mask had slipped and I’d cried in front of him. That day, I felt exposed, like standing in the middle of a storm with no cover. And now… he stood in that same storm.

My throat tightened. “I forgave you a long time ago,” I said, though the words were more for me than him. My voice shook. “Even when I didn’t want to.”

Because I hadn’t wanted to. I had wanted to hold on to the anger, to the bitterness—it was easier than feeling everything else. But I had let it go a long time ago. Maybe the day he stopped seeing me as invisible. Maybe the day he called my name like it meant something.

A tear rolled down my cheek, uninvited, and before I could wipe it away, Eros stepped forward. His fingers reached up, brushing it aside with a gentleness that didn’t belong in the same world as the man he used to be.

And in that moment, something shifted.

Maybe not everything was fixed. But something had begun.