Chapter 38

Matthew might not have liked Athena, but she was still his sister. And seeing a member of the Monson family being laughed at in public—it was a slap to his own pride.

On reflex, he stepped forward to help her up, but Joseph grabbed his arm and held him back.

“Well, well, Athena,” he sneered, “you’re not a child anymore, yet you still can’t stay on your feet? Look at you—what a pathetic sight.”

There was no hiding the excitement in his voice.

Athena lifted her gaze toward Michael, only to find him standing there, expression unreadable, cold. But his fists were clenched tightly.

He was hesitating. If she had just said something—asked for help, shown a hint of softness—he wouldn’t have left her like this.

But she didn’t. She gave him the barest glance, then looked away, as if even sparing him a second of attention was beneath her. As if looking at him too long might dirty her eyes.

Michael felt the sting of humiliation. He stood frozen, fists clenched, but did nothing.

“Athena, why are you still sitting there? Hurry and get up,” Willow said, her voice all sweetness and concern—though she didn’t move an inch.

Instead, she looked at Michael with pleading eyes. “Michael, can you help her up? There are so many people around… she must be so embarrassed.”

Michael’s tone was distant, flat. “Lady Athena is always quite capable. I’m sure she doesn’t need my help to stand on her own. Isn’t that right?”

If she hadn’t insulted him earlier, maybe he wouldn’t be acting like this. But she had called him cheap.

Michael had never imagined she saw him that way. He thought, "If that’s how little I mean to her—then fine. I won’t lift a finger for her again."

Willow bit her lip, eyes growing red. “But… she’s still—”

Michael didn’t even look at her. “What’s it got to do with me?”

The very words Athena had once flung at him—now thrown right back in her face.

Of course, Athena caught the implication. But his words didn’t hurt. Not anymore. In the three years she’d spent away, she’d heard worse things that cut deeper than this ever could.

She stood up from the mud, composed and unflinching. Her voice rang out clear, “You’re right—it has nothing to do with you. Because whatever was between us is long over. I sincerely wish you and Willow a happy life together. May you grow old in wedded bliss.”

Trashy man and a shameless woman—what a perfect match. At least they won’t ruin anyone else.

She didn’t bother hiding how bedraggled she looked. She stood tall, letting everyone see.

But Michael’s face darkened instantly.

It was summer, and her soaked, clinging dress outlined her figure far too clearly. He noticed the lingering stares from the men around them—full of lewd interest.

He barked, “Anyone who wants to lose an eye—keep looking.”

Most of the men present were sons of noble families, but few held higher status than Michael. The moment he spoke, they all turned away in a hurry.

His show of protectiveness made Willow’s eyes well up with tears. She looked at him, bewildered, waiting for some kind of explanation.

But Michael didn’t even glance at her. Instead, he pulled off his outer robe and forcefully draped it over Athena’s shoulders.

That was exactly the kind of gesture Athena hated most—false, performative, and full of empty meaning. They had nothing to do with each other anymore, yet he insisted on playing the part of the caring lover. It made her stomach churn.

She ripped the robe off and shoved it back into his hands. Her voice was cool and sharp. “Lord Osborne, please have some self-respect.”

“You—” Michael’s composure cracked. “This isn’t the time to be acting stubborn. Do you want to throw your reputation away completely?”

“My reputation?” Athena shot back with a cold smile. “Didn’t that get ruined the moment I stepped into the military camp?”

She lifted her gaze and looked straight at Willow—sure enough, tears were already streaming down her face.

“Lord Osborne, instead of wasting your concern on an outsider like me, maybe worry about your own fiancée. Look, she’s crying again.”

Athena had to admit, Willow had a real talent for turning on the waterworks. Her timing was flawless, and the tears came just right—pitiful and delicate, like a weeping flower in the wind. The kind of crying that tugged on heartstrings and drew sympathy like a magnet.

Only then did Michael seem to remember Willow was still standing there. Just as expected, her face was streaked with tears.

He gave her an apologetic look. “Let me walk Athena back to her courtyard. I’ll come find you afterward.”

With that, he grabbed Athena’s wrist and started to lead her away, brushing right past Matthew’s attempt to intervene.

But just then, a calm, unhurried voice cut in, bringing him to a halt. “And where exactly are you taking Lady Athena, Lord Osborne?”

Athena looked up to see a tall, lean man stepping into their path.

He was strikingly handsome, with sharp, refined features. His narrow, almond-shaped eyes held a faint, unreadable smile—but there was a chill behind it, a kind of dangerous edge. Arrogance radiated from him, and the challenge in his gaze was obvious.

Everyone around them fell silent and lowered their heads the moment they saw him.

Michael, however, merely smiled and greeted him. “So Lord Ray has time for leisure today. I didn’t expect to see you at the Monson family.”

The man he addressed was Ray, the crown prince of the McGee family.

Athena looked at him in surprise. She hadn’t seen him in years, and he’d changed so much she almost didn’t recognize him. If not for the small red mole under his eye, she might’ve missed him entirely.

Ray gave her a warm, casual smile. “My mother sent me to find you. I didn’t expect to catch you here.”

Athena quickly pulled her hand free from Michael’s grip and offered Ray a grateful nod. “Apologies for keeping you waiting, Your Highness.”

She glanced down at her muddied clothes in embarrassment.

Without missing a beat, Ray took off his cloak and draped it over her shoulders. “Allow me to walk you back.”

This time, Athena didn’t refuse. She thanked him softly and turned to head back to her courtyard, Ray following behind.

The two of them walked away—one after the other. Michael stood frozen, watching her leave, his face dark as thunder.

Behind him, Willow’s quiet sobbing continued, needling at his nerves.

Matthew tried to comfort her in a low voice, but the more he consoled, the harder she cried.

With no other option, he turned to Michael and said, “Why don’t you walk Willow back? She’s really upset.”

He thought he was helping Michael save face, giving him a graceful exit. But instead, Michael turned his icy stare toward Joseph. “Was it you who pushed her?”

He ignored Willow completely—and was now standing up for Athena.

Joseph was caught off guard. “I didn’t mean to,” he stammered. “How was I supposed to know she’d fall so easily? I just gave her a little shove.”

Michael took a step forward, his voice calm but cold. “Is that so?”

Before anyone could react, he raised his foot and drove it straight into Joseph’s chest.

Splash! Joseph flew backward into the pond.

Just moments ago, Athena had been the one drenched in mud—now it was Joseph's turn.

Matthew’s face darkened instantly. “Michael, what is the meaning of this? Are you seriously standing up for Athena?”

He could stomach Michael ignoring Willow’s tears—but to strike Joseph in public? That was nothing short of humiliation.

Willow looked up, stunned. Her tear-filled eyes locked on Michael, wide with disbelief. “Michael…?”

But Michael didn’t even look at her. His expression was still ice-cold. “You all knew exactly what Athena was walking into today,” he said, his voice low and cutting. “And not one of you stepped in to stop it. And this is what you call caring for her?”