Dark Revenge Of An Unwanted Wife: The Twins Are Not Yours! - Chapter 172

Chapter 172: A Grey Problem II

Athena pressed her lips into a thin line, her mind racing as she wondered what had gone wrong now. Just as she was pondering this, Sandro walked into her office.

He looked haggard, his eyes surrounded by dark circles of exhaustion—had he been treating the Grey disease too?

She couldn’t recall the last time she had seen him not clean-shaven, and now his jawline sported more stubble than usual.

“Good afternoon, Athena. How are you doing?” Sandro greeted, slumping into one of the chairs positioned across from her desk.

She couldn’t help but chuckle as she noted his disheveled appearance. “I seem to be doing better than you are.”

Sandro let out a dry laugh, ruffling his hair as he settled to a more comfortable position. “Try handling a company with diverse branches, stepping into the shoes of your boss, and see if you won’t grow an extra finger and two eyes.”

Athena grinned, shaking her head. “We can run an exchange then. You handle the recent Grey disease problem, and I’ll handle Ewan’s companies…”

Sandro pretended to consider it seriously, his finger tapping thoughtfully against his jaw, but he shook his head the following minute. “I think I’ll pass. I’d rather stick to my own problems, thanks.”

Athena scoffed. If Sandro tried to battle the Grey disease, he just might lose his sanity amidst the chaos. “I thought as much…” She muttered, sinking deeper into her chair.

“So, why are you here? My assistant mentioned it was an urgent matter,” She asked, hoping his news didn’t involve her friend being stricken by the Grey disease. She was already stretched thin by the fight against the outbreak.

“As you know, I’ve been trying to stall the shareholders’ meeting as long as I can until Ewan wakes up. I believe he’d handle it better than I will, even from a hospital bed. But the shareholders are growing restless; they’re demanding that the meeting be held next week. They’re also asking for a status report on Ewan’s health, wanting to know if they’re just selecting an acting director or if we’ll be looking at his will soon to see who he’d passed down the company to.”

Athena shook her head. “Probably Fiona,” She mused, bitterness lacing her voice. “The fickleness of men, huh…”

“Yeah. But I guess they are businessmen first, before friends or partners. Still, I would’ve preferred a show of solidarity. I mean, imagine asking for his will? It’s like they’re signing a contract with death itself!”

“I get your point…” Athena muttered, rummaging through the third drawer of her desk. She pulled out a lined piece of paper, glancing at it as if it held the answers they desperately needed. “This is Ewan’s situation at the moment,” She said, holding it out to Sandro.

He took a quick look but didn’t take the paper from her grasp. “I’m no doctor, Athena. I suggest you interpret this foreign language for me.”

Athena’s eyes widened slightly as she let out an “Oh” of realization regarding her oversight. “It means he’s getting better. But to know if he’ll be awake by next week, I’m not sure. Most of it depends on his will to live, something I unfortunately have no control over.”

Sandro nodded solemnly. “So, we’ll just keep praying then.” He sighed deeply, ruffling his hair again, a nervous gesture that was becoming more indicative of his stress.

“I really need him to wake up. I don’t know why Alfonso suggested the shareholders’ meeting, but I have a feeling that the man is up to no good—especially with Fiona lurking in the shadows.”

Didn’t she know? Athena thought, inhaling deeply to dismiss the matter from her mind. The Adams family was no longer her concern.

“I’ve moved all of Fiona’s things from the mansion to their house,” Sandro said out of the blues, a hint of mischief sparkling in his eyes. “Good thing Margaret was there to receive me, because I was ready to drop them off right at the gates.”

Athena chuckled softly at the thought, both at Sandro’s aggrieved tone and the image of tossing Fiona’s expensive items onto the road for scavengers to pick through.

“How is she—Margaret, I mean? The last time I heard her voice, she had a cold,” She asked, her tone momentarily shifting to concern.

Sandro shrugged his shoulders casually. “I don’t really know. But she was wearing black, like she was in mourning.”

She hadn’t taken Old Mr. Thorne’s advice then. Athena surmised.

“Did you even know Fiona had some of the guards under her thumb?” Sandro pressed, his voice rising slightly with indignation.

Athena shook her head, welcoming this rant, as she too needed a distraction amidst the turmoil surrounding her life now.

“I sacked them all then blocked her accounts with the bank,” Sandro continued, his tone already lightening. He reached into the front pocket of his shirt and pulled out two short bars of chocolate, handing one to Athena as if it were a lifeline.

“I thought Ewan had the sole authority to do that?” Athena asked, accepting the chocolate gratefully.

“I thought so too, until I tried. Turns out Ewan had given me more access than I had bargained for. Good thing, really, because Fiona isn’t touching any of his money again—neither is Alfonso.”

“That’s good. But how many shares does the Adams family hold in Ewan’s company? That would play a role in whatever Alfonso is planning.”

“Quite a lot, actually. Each of them has some amount of shares,” Sandro replied, the worry creeping back into his expression.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Athena sighed.

“About 15 percent, give or take…”

Athena nodded slowly. “Then I don’t think there’s much to worry about.”

Just then, Sandro’s phone rang, and he scowled at the screen. “I’m sorry. Got to go; work is calling,” he said, clearly frustrated at the interruption.

“That’s okay. Thanks for coming; I needed the distraction,” Athena replied, grateful for the brief reprieve from her worries.

Sandro stood, giving her a smile that attempted to mask his stress. “See you around, Athena.”

“See you around, Sandro. Send my regards to Zane,” She called after him as he stepped out of the office.

Only ten minutes had passed before there was another knock on the door. Athena didn’t bother to wonder who it could be; her patience was waning.

“Come in,” She said, trying to keep her voice steady.

The door swung open, revealing Herbert, who looked stricken with grief. For a fleeting moment, panic surged through her.

“What is the matter, Herbert?”

“I think I have the Grey disease.”