Only when I turned did they see the knife buried in my back.
A slap alone could never have left me so fragile. But when I fell, by sheer chance, I landed right onto the dagger lying on the ground.
The doctor said the wound was only an inch from my heart. A little deeper, and I would have died right there before Athena’s eyes.
After the wound was stitched, I refused the doctor’s advice to stay in the hospital, since even three stabs back then hadn’t kept me down, walking on the knife’s edge had long been my habit.
When I returned to the villa, Athena was waiting on the sofa in the living room. She lit a cigarette and signaled for me to sit across from her, then after a long drag, she looked at me with a half-smile.
“When my son came home, three of his fingers were broken!”
I raised my eyes toward the bodyguard, who lowered his head, not daring to meet my gaze. I let out a cold laugh.
“My men were careless. So what, does Athena want me to pay with three fingers of my own?”
Athena laughed too, but her smile was as sharp as a blade.
“Nolan blamed himself so much that he tried to jump off a building. When I stopped him, I fell down the stairs, and the child in my belly was gone.”