Dark Revenge Of An Unwanted Wife The Twins Are Not Yours novel Chapter 480

Chapter 480: Damning Verdict II

Ewan could still recognize the woman standing before him. Only that it seemed eons ago since he saw this particular version of hers.

The Athena he knew in recent times had always been calm, deliberate, composed, loving and soft when she accepted his request for another chance—but the one staring at him now was all fire and storm, her fury scorching every word that left his lips.

Her eyes, dark and gleaming, reminded him of molten glass—hot, brittle, and on the verge of shattering.

The moment she had spoken those words—you’re only permitted to see them once a month—something in his chest cracked open. The ground beneath him suddenly seemed to tilt, and he felt as though the world had narrowed to the space between her and him.

His children. His heart. Did she think he’d survive it? Because he was sure he wouldn’t.

He stepped forward, almost stumbling as the wet gravel shifted under his boots. The drizzle that had begun moments ago darkened his shirt, plastered it to his chest, but he didn’t care.

"Athena," he began, his voice breaking, hoarse, "please don’t do this. Don’t let Kael win."

She laughed—a short, dark sound, the kind that wasn’t amusement but mockery and pain woven together.

"Don’t let Kael win?" she repeated, her tone heavy with disbelief. "You think this is about Kael? Yes, he may have been the one behind the article, but he didn’t put your lips on Victoria’s."

Gasps rippled for the second time, through those watching, even Old Mr. Thorne stiffened beside the guards.

"That’s not what happened," Ewan managed after a stunned pause, shaking his head fiercely. "You walked in at the wrong time, Athena. She came on me—like it was planned, like she knew you’d be there."

Athena’s lips twisted in a scornful half-smile. "Planned? You want me to believe that Victoria is working with Kael now?"

Ewan opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He wasn’t sure anymore. The timing had been too perfect, too cruelly precise. And Victoria’s smirk—he still saw it when he closed his eyes.

But doubt was a poison, and he didn’t want to give her any reason to think he was deflecting blame.

"I don’t know," he admitted, voice rough. "But it wasn’t what you think. You have to believe me."

Athena’s eyes flashed. She reached into her sweater’s pocket and whipped out her phone. For a moment, her hands trembled—not from weakness, but from fury barely restrained. She scrolled, then turned the screen toward him.

"Then explain this."

Ewan blinked, his heart seizing as his gaze fell on the images. They were... impossible.

He saw himself—his face, unmistakable—lying beside Victoria on a bed. Her head on his bare chest, his arm thrown over her waist. Another picture, his lips at her temple.

He took a step back, breath catching in disbelief. "No. That’s not me."

Athena’s laughter cracked the air again, this time shaking slightly, as though holding herself up on the edge of rage. "Not you? You think I wouldn’t know your body, Ewan?"

"It’s not!" he declared, his voice echoing through the courtyard. "It’s not me. It’s fake, Athena! You have to know that. You know me."

Her eyes shimmered, and for a fleeting second, he thought he saw the woman who once smiled when he touched her cheek, who once whispered that she trusted him. But that softness vanished in the blink of an eye.

He wanted to tear the world apart. To scream. To prove that the image she held on her phone was a lie. But what did proof matter when the heart had already decided?

His thoughts turned to the children—his children. How would he tell them? How would he explain that he wasn’t allowed to see them for weeks? That their mother, the woman he loved beyond words, now believed him to be a liar and a cheat?

He bowed his head, rainwater dripping from his hair, his clothes clinging heavily to his body. He felt cold—inside and out.

Inside the house, Athena paused briefly at the window overlooking the courtyard. Through the blur of rain, she saw him still kneeling there, unmoving, a lone figure beneath the downpour. Something twisted in her chest, but she clenched her fists, shutting the feeling down.

Florence appeared beside her. "You’re letting him stay out there?"

Athena didn’t answer. Her gaze remained fixed on him. "He can leave whenever he wants."

"But you know he won’t," Florence said quietly.

"I don’t care," Athena whispered. "He lied to me."

Florence sighed, shaking her head. "Maybe. Or maybe he didn’t. You’ve both been through hell, Athena. Don’t let anger do what Kael couldn’t."

Athena’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Goodnight, grandma."

She turned and walked away, without looking at Florence, the sound of her steps echoing faintly down the hall, each step measured, final.