The Bigshot's Superstar Wife - Chapter 47

Chapter 47: Drunk

The absence of any substantial information made her thoughts drift back to Mors. What if he is a royalty? Nah… he’s too rigid. But what if…

He was undoubtedly connected to the Angelus family, given the way the shadow guards addressed him and his commanding presence. Could he be the second prince? Impossible…

Her gaze fell on the family tree displayed on her optical brain. I have no evidence.

Seraphina, the first empress, had three children before her untimely death, the second prince, the second princess, and the fourth prince.

All three were enigmas, their lives veiled in secrecy. If Mors is indeed the second prince, what could have happened to make him live in the shadows?

And what of the other two? Could their absence be connected to the dark tales I read earlier? Were they hidden by the current emperor?

A shiver ran down her spine as her imagination wove possibilities, each more unsettling than the last. It can’t be.

The faint hum of the interface broke her focus, and she closed the hologram with a sigh. I need to stop imagining.

The Angelus family had more secrets than she had anticipated, and it seemed that Mors was at the heart of them. Or maybe she was overthinking.

Whether she liked it or not, she was now a part of this tangled web of mystery, and something told her she was far from unraveling it all.

–

Athena had just started to drift into a light sleep when the faint creak of her bedroom door pulled her back to consciousness. Is he back? Why so late?

Her instincts, honed from weeks of danger, made her reach for the small dagger she kept under her pillow. But what if it’s not him? Just to be sure…

But before she could fully react, the distinct scent of alcohol filled the room, overpowering the crisp, clean air she had been accustomed to.

“Mors?” she called softly, her voice tinged with a mix of confusion and concern.

The silhouette in the doorway confirmed her suspicion. Mors staggered in, his usually composed demeanor replaced with one she had never seen before.

His shirt was slightly disheveled, his hair falling in unruly waves over his face. Why was he so drunk? Was there a gathering somewhere?

As he stepped closer, the moonlight streaming through the window revealed his reddened eyes and the deep crease of sorrow etched across his features.

Athena sat up, unsure how to process this version of him. “You’re drunk,” she said, her tone more observational than accusatory.

Mors didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he crossed the room in uneven steps and, without warning, dropped to his knees beside her bed.

His head rested against her lap, and his arms wrapped around her waist in a desperate embrace. Why is he acting like a child now?

The gesture startled her. Mors, who was always in control, who carried himself with an air of invincibility, now seemed utterly broken.

“Mors?” she whispered again, this time with more softness, her hand hesitantly brushing against his hair. “What happened?”

He didn’t respond. For a moment, the only sound in the room was his uneven breathing. Then, in a voice heavy with pain, he muttered, “I tried to forget… but I can’t.”

Athena’s heart tightened. She didn’t know what he was referring to, but the weight of his words and the vulnerability he was showing were enough to silence her questions.

He pulled back slightly, his glassy eyes meeting hers. “I’ve carried too much, Wifey. Too many things… too many mistakes.”

She wanted to ask what he meant, but the raw emotion in his gaze stopped her. Instead, she placed her hand gently on his cheek. “You don’t have to carry it alone,” she said softly.

Mors let out a bitter laugh, his lips curving into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “But that’s who I am, isn’t it? The one who carries it all.”

Athena didn’t know how to respond. She had seen him as a protector, a warrior, someone who faced challenges with unwavering strength.

But now, she was seeing the cracks in his armor, the burden that weighed him down. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I’m always here for you.

“Mors,” she said after a moment, her voice steady. “Whatever it is, you can talk to me. I’m here.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch like a man starved for comfort. “I don’t deserve it,” he whispered.

“Maybe not,” she replied honestly, surprising even herself. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll walk away.”

For the first time, Mors seemed to relax. His grip around her loosened, but he didn’t let go entirely. Did he just fall asleep in this position?

His breath evening out as the alcohol and exhaustion overtook him. Athena stayed still, her mind racing with unanswered questions and emotions she couldn’t fully understand.

But as Mors’s breathing steadied, she realized something, for all his strength and power, he was just as human as anyone else, carrying pain he rarely let anyone see.

In that quiet moment, Athena resolved to be his anchor, even if he didn’t believe he deserved one.

The room fell into an uneasy silence as Mors drifted off, his head still resting against Athena’s shoulder. I should carry him to the bed…

She sat still, her heart heavy with emotions she couldn’t quite name. His earlier words echoed in her mind, words filled with pain, regret, and vulnerability.

This wasn’t the stoic warrior she had come to know. This was a man weighed down by secrets and a burden he clearly wasn’t ready to share.

Athena shifted carefully, lowering him onto the bed to ensure he was comfortable. His grip on her had slackened, but even in sleep, his expression was troubled.

She brushed a strand of hair from his face, her fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

“Who are you, really?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

For a little while, she’d been piecing together fragments of his identity, from the mysterious markings on the Zerg leaders to the royal family tales in the library.

The shadow guards calling him “Your Highness,” and the secrets he carried, it all pointed to a truth she wasn’t sure she was ready to face. Only time will tell.

She sat beside him for a while, her mind racing. The weight of the day’s battles and discoveries pressed down on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave.

Instead, she leaned back against the headboard, her eyes fixed on the ceiling as she tried to make sense of it all.

A sudden movement from Mors startled her. He murmured something in his sleep, his brow furrowing. Athena leaned closer, trying to make out his words.

“Don’t let it… take everything,” he muttered, his voice strained. “Protect… them…”