The Bigshot's Superstar Wife

Athena felt the blood drain from her face. The real Athena is still out there? The words echoed in her mind like a haunting refrain. How could that be possible? She was Athena, wasn't she? The memories she had lost, the instincts buried deep in her bones, the nightmares of battles she couldn't remember fighting—what did they mean if she wasn't even real?

Xavier didn't lower his gun. His expression was unreadable, but Athena could feel the tension radiating from him. "Explain," he demanded, his voice ice-cold.

The clone tilted her head, her expression both amused and pitying. "You were created to be the perfect assassin, but something went wrong. You remember, don't you? The whispers in your dreams, the sword that only you can summon, the feeling that no matter what you do, you don't belong here." Her golden eyes gleamed. "That's because you don't."

Athena's hands clenched at her sides. "You're lying," she hissed, but even as she said it, a deep part of her knew—this clone wasn't completely wrong.

The clone chuckled, stepping back as if to give Athena space to breathe. "Then tell me, Athena," she said softly, "where is the real you?"

Athena felt something inside her crack.

Xavier suddenly fired, but the clone twisted her body at an impossible angle, dodging the bullet like she had already anticipated his move. In a blur of motion, she lunged, but Xavier was faster. He slammed a knife straight into her shoulder, pinning her against the wall.

The clone gasped, but she didn't scream. Instead, she grinned, as if this was nothing more than a mild inconvenience. "Still as ruthless as ever, Xavier," she mused. "No wonder she loved you."

Athena stiffened.

Xavier's grip tightened on the handle of the knife. "Shut up."

But the clone only laughed. "Or what? You'll kill me?" She leaned in, golden eyes boring into his. "Go ahead. I have hundreds of copies. I'm nothing but data made flesh, memories stitched together into a puppet. Kill me, and another will wake up in my place."

Athena's mind raced. Hundreds of copies? If that was true, then how many more were out there? How many Athenas had been created, only to be discarded when they weren't perfect? A sick feeling curled in her stomach.

"I don't believe you," she finally said.

The clone turned to her with an almost sympathetic smile. "You don't have to." She glanced at Xavier. "But he does."

Athena's gaze snapped to him. Xavier's face was unreadable, but his grip on the knife trembled slightly.

"Xavier?" she whispered.

He didn't answer. Instead, with a sharp jerk, he yanked the knife from the clone's shoulder. Blood splattered onto the ground, but the clone merely smiled wider. "Ah, I see," she murmured, her voice full of dark amusement. "You do remember, don't you?"

Xavier's jaw tightened. "Get out."

The clone tilted her head. "And if I don't?"

Xavier raised his gun again. "Then I'll make you."

The clone sighed, shaking her head. "You always were difficult." Then, before either of them could react, her body flickered—like a glitch in a computer screen—and she vanished.

A silence heavier than any battle settled over the room.

Athena's hands trembled as she turned to Xavier. "What did she mean?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Xavier didn't look at her. He turned away, running a hand through his hair. "Forget it," he muttered.

But Athena grabbed his wrist. "No," she said firmly. "I won't forget it. You knew something. You remembered something."

Xavier finally met her gaze, and for the first time, she saw something in his eyes she had never seen before.

Guilt.

Athena's breath hitched. "Xavier," she whispered, stepping closer. "Who am I?"

Xavier exhaled shakily, looking down at her hand gripping his wrist. Then, with a quiet, pained voice, he finally spoke.

"You're the only one that survived."

The words sent ice through Athena's veins.

"What?" she breathed.

Xavier gently pulled away from her grip. His eyes were dark, filled with something too heavy to name. "I can't tell you everything," he said quietly. "Not yet."

Athena wanted to scream at him, demand answers, shake him until he gave her the truth. But the look in his eyes stopped her.

He was afraid.

Not for himself—but for her.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to take a step back. "Then when?" she asked.

Xavier's gaze flickered. "When you're ready."

Athena clenched her fists, but she didn't argue. Instead, she took a deep breath and turned away.

She needed time to think. To process.

But deep inside, she knew—there wasn't much time left.

Because if what the clone said was true…

Then somewhere out there, the real Athena was still waiting.

Athena sat alone in the dimly lit corner of the base, staring at her trembling hands. The clone's words echoed in her mind like a relentless drumbeat. You're the only one that survived.

What did that mean? Did it mean she was the only successful experiment? The only one who had broken free from whatever program had created her? Or did it mean… she wasn't the original at all? That somewhere out there, the real Athena still existed?

Her head ached.

She tried to recall something—anything—that could confirm or deny what she had just learned, but the memories refused to surface. It was like trying to grab smoke with her bare hands.

Xavier was keeping secrets. That much was obvious. But what scared her more was that he looked terrified of telling her the truth.

What am I? she thought. Who am I?

A cold wind swept through the base. Athena shivered but didn't move.

One thing was certain.

If the real Athena was still out there, she had to find her.

Athena clenched her fists, determination burning in her chest. She couldn't sit still, not when so many questions remained unanswered. If she was a clone, if she was the only one that survived—what happened to the others? What was her true purpose?

Her mind raced as she stood up, glancing toward the darkened halls of the base. Xavier knew something. He had to. And if he wouldn't tell her willingly, she would find a way to uncover the truth herself.

With a deep breath, she stepped into the corridor, ready to face whatever lay ahead.