The silence in the room had become unbearable for Athena, suffocating even, as she sat amidst the palpable tension.
Old Mr. Thorne and his wife, Florence, both seemed to stare into the depths of their own thoughts, looking down not just at the plush carpet beneath their feet but into the chasms of their grief.
They wore expressions that reflected a complex mix of emotions—downcast yet somehow angry. Athena couldn't help but feel a surge of frustration directed at Victoria.
How could she be so insensitive as to bring up such an unreasonable question? Where had Cedric found such an oblivious woman?
She exchanged furtive glances with the kids, seated nearby and clearly as confused and uncomfortable as she was.
Inhaling deeply, she opened her mouth to suggest an exit for herself and her children, but before she could speak, Old Mr. Thorne's voice cut her short.
