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

Chapter 256: Long Night XX

"The truth this taround, Athena. | want the truth. I think | deserve it after all this tin the dark." Susan

continued when Athena remained silent.

She crossed her legs over each other and folded her arms across her chest, ready for the tale that had her heart

racing.

Athena, backed into a corner now, nodded, feeling she had no choice. Retelling this event was unlike anything

she had ever done; it was a type she never wanted to be caught dead speaking of because it tore open wounds

she thought had healed and left her feeling raw.

But she had seen the plea in Susan's eyes and knew there was no way around it this time. It was tto share

the burden.

"Your mother was the best agent | loved working with. We did a lot of jobs together, accomplished many things.

We never failed at a single task given to us by the agency—never had a mishap. We were the best in the field—

until one fateful day..." A pause, during which Athena gathered her feelings, bunched them up, and set them

aside.

She needed to remain stoic to recount this story without breaking down in tears. Susan deserved that much.

"We were instructed by the head of operations to retrieve an item from an antique auction. We were warned

ahead of tthat there would be opposition, as many other eyes were on the item too."

"What was the item?" Susan cut in, leaning forward slightly, her full attention focused on Athena and the story

she was about to tell.

Meanwhile, Athena pursed her lips. "I'm not even sure. You know how wealthy people always go for the most

abstract things..." She answered, almost as if she wasn’t in the scategory as the rich.

On a normal day, Susan would have pointed out that inconsistency with a laugh, but today wasn’t a normal day.

Today, Susan was mourning her mother.

"But it was like a painting, only | could never understand the head or tail of it. There was even a bloody nylon

strapped to the canvas!" Athena shook her head. "Well, that was the item we were tasked with bringing back to

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the agency by the HOD. He told us it was of international importance, that the balance of peace among nations

was teetering on a delicate edge."

A pause, then a disbelieving laugh escaped her lips. "We were so gullible, eating up whatever he said..." Athena

continued, her eyes watering as she remembered the old man who had worked alongside the boss.

"Hence, we attended the auction. When we confirmed the old man’s words—that we weren't the only ones after

the item—our lingering doubts were quenched, and we set out to complete the mission as before. It was

successful. The mission. Of course, not without its difficulties, but your mother and | were always prepared." A

pained laugh followed.

"When we left the auction, we had removed our fake identities—" Athena paused, her eyes widening a fraction

as she looked at Susan expectantly. "Did | tell you that your mother was a master of disguises? She could take on

any voice, any persona—just like you. It runs in the blood."

A fat tear rolled down Susan’s cheek.

Athena looked away and continued the story. "We got away with the heist. But we were ambushed on the way

back to the headquarters. It was Morgan and his gang members. At that time, though, we didn’t know who or

what he was. We just deduced that he was one of those crazy bodyguards or thugs working for the rich men or

the people who wanted that painting. Well, we were right about one thing..."

Athena sniffed and continued. "There was a gun battle, but we won, as Morgan fled the scene with sof his

men. We thought it was over. But then | received a call from the boss asking us to return to headquarters

because there was another mission to undertake. Confused, | asked him if he wasn’t aware | was already on a

mission. Well, he wasn’t aware. It turns out the old man, the HOD, hadn't informed him, so I did. The boss was

angry, mentioning that there was no world peace hinging on that painting. Turns out that the painting was for

the old man’s wife; she had wanted it for ages."

A pause.

"Your mother—angry—decided to keep the painting with her and not submit it. The old man wasn’t happy that

we had failed the mission; he found it hard to believe, actually, but he let the matter go, since he was almost

fired for the disgraceful act. We thought that was the end of it until we were called into the boss's office a few

weeks later. Turns out the painting was one of those used for money laundering and such."

Another significant pause.

"Well, | didn’t have a problem giving it back, but your mother doubted their intentions, especially given the

sketchy way everything was going. However, we outwardly agreed with the boss and promised to bring the

painting the next day. When we got to her place, we picked up the painting and stared at it; there was nothing

spectacular about it, yet we could see how it might be used for money laundering. That all changed the next

minute while we were trying to stuff the weird stuff into a bag."

A pause. A deep inhale. "Something fell off the side. We picked it up; it was a small memory card. Curiosity got

the better of us, and we slotted it into a system. Well, we wished we hadn't because everything we thought we

knew about the agency, about the government, was turned upside down; they were all corrupt, polluted."

Athena wrinkled her nose in disgust as memories of what she had seen in the memory card assailed her mind.

"Is that why you stopped working for the CIA, apart from my mother’s death?"

"Yes," Athena stated, nodding.

"So, what happened after you both found the memory card?"

Athena shrugged her shoulders. "We returned the painting to the boss, although we kept the memory card for

ourselves." A pause. "Somehow, they must have suspected that we had the memory card because shortly after,

we noticed we were being watched. We were well-trained agents, so we knew what was happening. But we

pretended not to see anything, having planned to submit our resignation letters in a couple of days."

"You people wanted to run off with the memory card?"

Athena shook her head. "No, we didn’t. We actually returned it a few days later. Maybe something in our eyes

told the boss that we had seen its contents, for he said that things didn’t always look the way they appeared." A

scoff escaped her lips, followed by a dry laugh. "Like we didn’t know what we saw."

Susan scoffed drily.

"Well, he gave us another mission before we left his office. This time, it was a normal mission: spy on a terrorist,

get into his vaults, retrieve a bioweapon, and flee."

A dry laugh from Athena again. "Or so we thought... Seeing the journal where Morgan had recorded all his kills..."

"Sorry, a journal?" Susan interrupted.

Athena nodded. "We found it in one of the journals. It's how I discovered that the CIA was behind the attack on

us—the consistent attacks we faced while going about the mission. It had been a setup."

"The CIA killed my mother? After her ruthless dedication to it—a dedication that cost her her marriage?" Susan

growled, jumping to her feet in anger, pacing the room from one end to the other.

Athena shut her eyes as pain racketed through her soul, bowing her head low to stew in it. Suddenly, she was

aware of Susan punching the wall in anger.

"Stop it; you'll hurt yourself..."

A bark of snide laughter erupted from Susan. "Hurt myself? | wish | could. The pain in my heart is darker, more

painful. | feel like it's consuming me..." The tears becfrantic.

Athena got up from her seat, walked up to Susan, and enveloped her in a hug. They both slid to the floor.

"Finish the story..." The young lady pleaded through her tears, her breath shaking.

Athena, crying now, swallowed painfully, her grip tightening on Susan as she sought the strength to continue

with the story.

"We were able to get what we wanted from the terrorist den, but we couldn't escape. We had been surrounded

on all sides. | recognized Morgan first, remembered him from our last encounter on the road. He smiled at me

and promised we wouldn't be leaving alive. They bundled your mother andinto a cell. It was one of the most

sorrowful moments of our lives. They tortured us for information about the painting, about what we discovered.

Now, | can see it clearly. The agency wanted to know what we were hiding. Yet we hadn't realized it then, so we

were bent on defending the agency with our last breath, even though our resignation letters had already been

typed up, ready to be sent out."

A pause. "Your mother was shot to extract information from me. I've always wondered why it wasn’t me. Why did

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