Chapter Eighty Eight

Chapter Eighty Eight
Athena
I pulled into the underground parking lot of the Belmonte Group and parked beside Eros’s car. After turning off the ignition, I grabbed my bag and files from the passenger seat, opened the door, and stepped out. 

I shut the door behind me and locked the car, about to walk away when Lysander appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

He looked disheveled—dressed in faded jeans, a gray T-shirt, and a jacket. His tousled hair, dark eye bags, and bloodshot eyes told me he’d either been drinking heavily or hadn’t slept in days.

"What are you doing here?" I asked with an exasperated sigh. "You’re not supposed to be within ten feet of me. Remember? You’re violating the restraining order."

"Like I give a damn about that," he snapped, taking a menacing step closer. "I made one mistake and you ran straight into his arms? Just like that? After everything I did for you?"

"This is getting old, Ly—"

"After everything I did for you?!" he bellowed, his voice echoing in the garage. "He left you, Athena! He didn’t want you anymore! And now, just because he had a change of heart, you drop me like I never mattered?"

"I didn’t leave you for him!" I shot back. "I left because you’re unstable, Lysander! You really think I’d have so little self-respect that I’d stay with an abusive man? After everything my mother went through at the hands of—" I stopped myself, my voice catching. "You hit me, Lysander. You raised your hand and hit me square in the jaw. Without even thinking."

"It was a mistake!" he shouted.

"The fact that you even did it once told me I wasn’t safe with you!"

His expression twisted with rage. "So, what? You feel safe with him?" he hissed, getting inches from my face. "Are you in love with him?"

"If you don’t leave right now, I’m calling the police," I warned. "I swear, Lysander, I will."

"You’re my wife, Athena. You belong to me, not him." He suddenly yanked my bag and files from my hands, tossing them to the ground. Then he grabbed my forearms in a bruising grip. "If you think I’ll let you walk away from me like I meant nothing, you’re sorely mistaken."

"Let me go!" I struggled, wincing. "You’re hurting me!"

"I’m taking you away from here," he said with chilling certainty. "Far from him. He’ll never see you again."

White-hot rage surged through me. I lifted my knee and slammed it into his groin. He doubled over and released me with a grunt of pain. I tried to run, but I didn’t get far. He lunged, wrapped his arms around my waist, pinning my arms to my sides, and lifted me off the ground.

"You’re coming with me!" He grunted.

"No! Let me go!" I screamed.

"Athena!" Eros’s voice rang out in desperation.

Lysander froze, his face contorting as he turned to see Eros sprinting toward us, flanked by two security guards. He immediately let go, dropping me roughly. 

I hit the ground hard, my palms scraping against the concrete, but I barely felt it. Eros was at my side in an instant, pulling me into his arms.

"Are you okay?" he asked urgently, cupping my face. "Did he hurt you?"

I shook my head, still trembling, my heart pounding like a war drum. "No. I would’ve done more damage if he hadn’t pinned my arms."

Relief swept across his face. Eros let out a shaky breath and hugged me tightly, stroking my hair. "Thank God I came out when I did. I was worried."

"Thank you for saving me," I murmured into his chest.

"I’ll always save you, Athena," he whispered into my ear, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my temple. "Never forget that."

I didn’t care that the security guards were probably watching us. I clung to Eros, eyes squeezed shut, as the weight of what had just happened crashed down on me—my own husband had tried to kidnap me. The man I’d known for nearly thirteen years… was truly unhinged.

I’d married a lunatic.

A shiver ran through me, and Eros must have felt it because he pulled me closer, his heartbeat a steady rhythm that anchored me. In that moment, a deeper truth surfaced—one I’d buried for far too long.

I’d always been in love with Eros Belmonte.

With Lysander, I had settled. I had loved him once—but never like this. Never the way I loved Eros.

And that… that was the real tragedy, wasn’t it?

\~~~~~
Eros
I didn’t give a damn that the security guards were standing just a few feet away. All I could focus on was Athena in my arms—trembling, shaken, clinging to me like I was the only solid thing left in her world.

And maybe I was.

I felt her body shudder, and instinctively, I held her tighter, pressing my cheek to her temple. My heart was still racing, but hers... hers felt like it might beat right out of her chest. She was scared. Hurt. Betrayed.

He had tried to take her.

That bastard—her husband—had tried to drag her away like she was his property, like she didn’t have a mind or a will of her own. I’d never wanted to hurt someone as badly as I did at that moment.

Then something shifted. I felt it in the way she held onto me, the way her breath began to slow as if my presence calmed her. And I realized—I wasn’t just someone to her. I never had been.

She’d loved me all along.

Not in the way she might’ve tried to convince herself she loved him. This was different. Deeper. Real.

She had settled for Lysander.

And now she knew it.

That knowledge burned in my chest—not out of pride, but out of heartbreak for all the years we’d lost.

But not anymore.

Believing it would be safer for Athena, I convinced her to move in with me. It wasn’t just about protection—it was about control. Not over her, but over the chaos Lysander had unleashed. I needed her somewhere I could see her, somewhere no one could take her from again.

She was hesitant. Proud, like always. But she agreed. Packed a suitcase, locked her apartment, and crossed the invisible line between surviving and choosing something more. Me.

“Don’t think I’m doing this because I can’t take care of myself,” she told me that night as she set her bag down in my hallway. “I’m doing this because I don’t want to be watching my back every damn minute.”

“I know,” I said. “But he’s not going to hurt you again. Not while you’re here.”

She filed for divorce the next day, citing Lysander’s threatening messages and the attempted abduction. It was brave—braver than anything I’d ever seen.

Still, his reach was long. Too long.

“Change your number,” I told her one morning over coffee. “Don’t give him access to you. Not even through a screen.”

She looked up from her mug, eyes still foggy from sleep. “You think he’ll stop?”

“No. He probably won't stop,” I admitted. “But that doesn’t mean we back down.”

“I’m scared, Eros,” she whispered. “What if this just makes him angrier?”

A beat of silence passed between us. Then I pulled her into my arms, pressing her against my chest. “You did the right thing. You don't have to be scared."

We stood like that for a long moment before I drew back and lifted her phone. “I still think you need a new number.”

She gave a reluctant nod. “You’ve said that three times already.”

“And I’ll keep saying it until you do it.” I tossed her a playful look. “Don’t make me call the mobile service provider myself.”

She rolled her eyes but smirked. “Fine. I’ll change it today.”

And she did. It was the first step toward erasing Lysander from her life.

The second step came unexpectedly.

We were walking out of a gallery in Midtown—quiet, hand in hand, her laugh still echoing from some joke I barely remember. And then she leaned in. Just slightly. Her lips brushed mine like she wasn’t afraid anymore. Like she chose me.

Of course, some bloodsucking paparazzo caught the moment and sold it to the highest bidder. By the next morning, our kiss was plastered on the front page of every gossip site from here to Africa.