Chapter 66 He Didn’t Treat Athena Well
The cemetery keeper let out a long sigh as he looked at the distant horizon. His voice softened as he spoke, “You know, when Athena attended Sir Newton’s funeral, she was already older, more mature. On that day, she didn’t cry over her grandpa. Instead, she bought ice cream to comfort her grandma, who was in tears.”
Byron, his heart heavy with guilt, went to the nearby grocery store and bought two ice creams. He handed one to the cemetery keeper without a word. As he took a bite, the sweetness of the ice cream filled his mouth, but the taste quickly turned bitter once it slid down his throat.
“Did you have a quarrel with Athena?” the keeper asked, eyeing Byron carefully. “I could tell something wasn’t right when she suddenly returned. Did you treat her poorly?”
Byron’s gaze hardened. “What? When did she come here?” he asked, his tone sharp, unable to hide his growing concern.
The keeper scratched his chin, glancing at Byron with an expression that suggested he was unimpressed. “She came here the week before last, but I didn’t note the exact date.”
The mention of the week before last sent a ripple of realization through Byron. Liam had told him Athena had asked for leave during that time. It all clicked. Athena had been here… without him knowing.
“Well, just go down this road, and you’ll see the exit,” the keeper said dismissively, not interested in continuing the conversation. He gestured vaguely, showing the way out.
Byron paused as he was about to leave. He called out to the keeper. “Wait. Is there anything else?”
The keeper turned back with an indifferent expression. “What now?”
Byron reached into his pocket, pulling out his business card. “This is my card. If Athena comes back here, I would appreciate it if you could contact me.”
The keeper eyed the card for a moment, his mind racing. Was Byron trying to track Athena’s movements? Had she left him? The keeper’s expression turned inward, and his thoughts darkened. “I’ll make sure to keep an eye out,” he said, taking the card without looking at it.
As the keeper walked away, his thoughts turned colder. Next time Athena comes here, I’ll warn her to stay away from men like him.
Once Byron was out of sight, the keeper’s expression morphed into a sneer. Without a second thought, he discarded the business card into the trash. “I won’t betray Athena,” he muttered under his breath. “You bastard.”
Back at the cemetery, the keeper returned to his work. As he settled in, a well-dressed young man approached him, asking, “Excuse me, is Natasha Newton’s grave here?”
The keeper looked up and noticed the young man offering him a cigarette. He declined the offer, remembering the promise he had made to Athena’s grandfather. If anyone comes asking about my daughter, don’t tell them anything.
“I’ll check for you,” the keeper replied. He walked back to the workroom, his mind turning. Why are there so many people coming to inquire about the Newtons today?
As he checked the records on the computer, the keeper’s mind raced. He needed to call Athena.
A moment later, he called out from the workroom. “There’s no one by the name of Natasha Newton buried here. You’ll have to try elsewhere.”
The young man looked disappointed but thanked him before leaving.
Once the cemetery was quiet again, the young man climbed into his car, making a phone call. “I’m sorry, I haven’t found her yet. But don’t worry—we have other leads.”
The car slowly pulled away, and the keeper’s thoughts turned again to Athena. I have to tell her about all these strange people asking about her family.
Meanwhile, Byron’s search for Athena continued the following day. He visited all the places he could think of, retracing her past steps. In the old town, he found her childhood home, its door locked tightly, the plants on the balcony withered from neglect. It had been empty for some time.
Byron wandered through the area, his heart aching with every familiar scene he saw—images from Athena’s old photos, traces of the life she had once led. He wished with all his heart that he could find her, that he could follow these fragments of her past and bring her back.
But after hours of searching, he found nothing. He returned to his hotel, exhausted, and tried calling Athena again. But her phone went straight to voicemail.
As the silence in his room pressed down on him, Byron’s unease grew. He reached for the remote and turned on the television, hoping to distract himself. But the moment the screen flickered to life, his eyes locked on the image before him.
It was a broadcast of his engagement to Heather.
On screen, Heather smiled brightly, holding Byron’s hand. The host’s voice rang out, declaring them a perfect match—“A match made in heaven.”
Byron’s chest tightened as he watched the scene unfold. The images felt like a cruel reminder of the distance between him and Athena. The joy on Heather’s face only highlighted the emptiness that gnawed at Byron’s heart. He hadn’t treated Athena well.