It had been a while since Mikhail's parents left. Athena was all alone in that huge mansion, where every inch saturated with Mikhail's scent. She sat on her bed, staring at the heavy rain. Her eyes, devoid of emotions, continued to gaze at rain as if  it were shedding tears on her behalf. Clara had already returned home for the day following Mikhail's instructions. Athena desperately wanted someone to talk to, but the solitude was suffocating, making her heart feel like a heavy burden. The turbulent atmosphere reminded her of Mikhail. The moon continued to hide under the wings of vast night as if it were hiding from something.

 Each and every minute of her stay in there felt hellish. At times, she woke up startled, haunted by nightmares. The dead body she saw in the basement and the sound of gunfire aimed at Sophia were etched into her mind like an unshakable wound.

Every moment she spent inside the mansion made her nauseous. She was terrified of Mikhail. Athena thought of Mikhail as the embodiment of evil — no, she soon corrected herself; he was  evil itself. A simple mistake had led to Sophia losing her life, and it didn't even involve Mikhail. But what would he do to Athena once he knew the truth? That she was, in fact, Athena Everhart, but not Grace Everhart. Athena was certain, she wouldn't live to see another day once her true identity was unveiled.

The rain subsided. Athena lifted herself from the bed. As she was drawing the curtains to close, she spotted the woman who had humiliated her in public— Nathalia Marlowe. Nathalia seemed to be conversing with someone. As Athena looked closer, she recognized the familiar face of Mikhail. Nathalia was indeed well-matched with Mikhail. While Mikhail killed people swiftly with lethal actions, Nathalia chose to kill people slowly but cruelly, like a deadly disease. Without gazing at them further, Athena quietly closed the windows, concealing her thoughts.

She desperately wanted to escape from Mikhail. Although he sometimes seemed gentle to her, Mikhail was still the man who ignored his so-called wife at the charity party while others mocked her. He was the man who treated her like someone who could be discarded at any moment, like garbage. How much could Athena trust him? Not at all; that was her conclusion. Above all, how long could she live with a man who killed people like insects? He was dangerous. If he wanted Athena to die, then that would be her fate.

The mornings dawned and dusks fell for days, but the silence between Mikhail and Athena remained unbroken. She wasn't the only one trapped in emotional turmoil. Seeing Athena trembling and gasping every time she saw Mikhail made him anxious. For the first time in his life, he began to doubt his own actions. Was it wrong to kill Sophia? Was it because he killed her in front of Athena? What was the reason? Mikhail didn't know.

Athena didn't leave her room for an entire week. Every day, she would fall asleep before Mikhail came home, regardless of the time. It was as if she was sleeping all day to avoid her painful realities. But Mikhail couldn't bring himself to ask her anything; she was horrified of him, looking at him as if he were not human, but a monster.

Mikhail decided to face Athena's emotions head-on as he walked towards her bedroom. He stood outside her room, his heart racing with concern. Taking a deep breath to gather his courage, he knocked gently on the door. The door creaked open, revealing Athena's fearful eyes. She looked like a caged bird that had given up on flying away. Her gaze landed on his face, then quickly shifted back to the floor, as if she didn't want to look at him.

"My wife, can we talk?", Mikhail said softly, trying his best to sound non-threatening.

Athena looked at him, her eyes filled with memories of her nightmares. She coughed, her voice barely audible, "I don't want to." But she knew he wouldn't accept that, so Athena hesitantly opened the door wider, her hand trembling on the doorknob. Mikhail stepped inside, aware of Athena's reluctance. As he entered, his eyes locked on hers, unable to look away from her fragile face. Athena's heart raced with fear, while Mikhail secretly took a deep breath to calm his own racing heart.

"I won't do anything to you, my love," Mikhail said tensely. He was upset that she wouldn't look at his face. He came closer, but Athena quickly backed away. Mikhail sighed heavily, his broad shoulders sagging as if he were losing hope. He turned away from her. As he reached out his hand to turn the doorknob, his eyes gleamed with a final decision. As he walked away from her bedroom, thick with burning emotions, he pulled out his phone. His voice was low as he spoke into the receiver,

"I will be bringing her to you soon," he said. He paused and turned his back, gazing at her room. The silence spoke volumes, even though they didn't exchange a single word.

Mikhail couldn't accept the fact that he was being ignored by Athena. When he saw Athena sobbing, it was like his heart was shattering instead of her tears. He wondered, if not for his love for her, if not for his heart beating like crazy for her, would she still be alive? His calm and peaceful mind had now become dreadful with emotional waves for a woman who was terrified of him.

Mikhail was at a loss, unable to understand where he had gone wrong. He treated her better than any woman he had dated—never hurt her physically, always addressed her gently, never forced her to spend time with him. That much Mikhail loved her. He had a place in his heart reserved only for Athena. It was his first time being rejected, and he couldn't accept it. No other woman he had been with dared to act like Athena. Slowly and steadily, Mikhail was losing his patience. He clenched his fist but soon calmed his mind, forcefully hoping she would eventually fall for him and him alone.