The Bigshot's Superstar Wife-Chapter 101: A Kid?

The night was eerily silent, save for the faint sound of crying that echoed through the darkened corridors of the estate.

Athena’s eyes fluttered open, her heart pounding against her ribs. She sat up in bed, her senses sharpening in the stillness.

Beside her, Mors remained motionless, his breathing slow and even. She reached out and shook his arm gently.

"Mors," she whispered. "Wake up."

But he didn’t stir. His body was warm, his pulse steady, yet there was an unnatural stillness to him.

Athena’s brows furrowed. Something was wrong. The air felt heavier, as if the mansion itself was holding its breath.

The soft, sorrowful cries filled the air again.

Athena stiffened. It was coming from above.

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Without hesitation, she climbed out of bed, grabbing a dark cloak from the chair to conceal herself.

The mansion was quiet, but that didn’t mean it was empty. She couldn’t risk alerting anyone, not even the guards Mors trusted.

Moving with practiced silence, she approached the window and unlatched it, letting the cold night air brush against her skin.

She stepped onto the narrow ledge, gripping the frame for balance. A fall from this height wouldn’t kill her, but it would certainly alert the entire estate if she slipped.

Carefully, she reached for the balcony above, using the ivy-covered trellis for support. Every movement was slow and deliberate.

The stone was cold beneath her fingers, and the climb was treacherous. But Athena had done far more dangerous things in her life.

As she reached the second floor, she pressed her ear against the glass of a nearby window. Nothing. She tried another. Still nothing.

Then, the crying came again, this time, clearer, more desperate.

Her instincts sharpened. The sound wasn’t coming from a room. It was beyond. Somewhere deeper.

She crept down the hallway, her steps featherlight against the polished marble floor. Her sharp ears caught the faintest sound of wind whistling through an opening.

Then, she saw it, a narrow slit in the wall, barely noticeable unless someone was looking for it. A hidden passage.

Athena’s heartbeat quickened. Why was there a secret passage inside the estate? And more importantly, who was being kept here?

She pressed her fingers against the cold stone, feeling for a latch. After a few seconds, the wall gave way with a faint click, revealing a dark corridor beyond.

Dust filled her lungs as she slipped inside, closing the passage behind her. The air was damp, and the stone walls pressed in tightly around her.

Torch brackets lined the tunnel, though most were unlit, casting the place in eerie shadows. Athena kept her steps light, careful not to disturb the loose gravel beneath her feet.

The crying grew louder. It wasn’t the cry of a woman or an elderly person. It was a child.

Athena’s breath hitched.

She moved faster, her fingers trailing along the rough stone as she made her way through the winding corridor.

Soon, she reached a hallway lined with heavy, reinforced doors. The air here smelled of damp earth, rusted metal, and something far worse, blood.

Her stomach churned.

The sobbing came from one of the rooms near the end of the hallway. Athena slowed her pace, ears trained for any sign of guards.

But the place was deathly silent, save for the whimpers of the child. She pressed her palm against the cold iron door and peeked through the small barred window.

Her breath caught in her throat.

A boy, no older than five, sat curled in the corner of the dimly lit cell. His golden hair was matted with dirt and blood, and bruises marred his pale skin.

His small wrists were bound in iron shackles, the cruel metal biting into his flesh. Dried streaks of tears lined his cheeks as his tiny body trembled with each sob.

Athena’s hands clenched into fists.

Who would do this to a child?

More importantly, why was he locked up here, hidden within Mors’s estate?

Athena scanned the door, searching for a way to open it. There was no handle, only a reinforced locking mechanism designed to be opened from the outside.

Her fingers moved to the small pouch at her waist, where she kept a set of thin, sharp tools.

She worked quickly, ignoring the sweat gathering at the base of her neck. Years of training had made her skilled at lock-picking, and within seconds, she heard a faint click.

The door creaked open.

The boy flinched, curling further into himself. His golden eyes flickered with terror as he pressed himself against the cold stone wall.

Athena knelt, keeping her voice soft. "It’s okay. I won’t hurt you."

The boy didn’t move, his breathing ragged. His tiny hands clenched into fists, as if expecting another blow.

Athena’s heart twisted painfully. Whoever had done this to him had broken something fragile inside him.

She slowly extended a hand. "I’m here to help."

The boy hesitated. His golden eyes, so much like Mors’s, flickered with a strange recognition.

"Who… are you?" his voice was hoarse from crying.

Athena hesitated for only a second before answering, "My name is Athena. What’s yours?"

The boy opened his mouth, but no words came out. It was as if he had forgotten how to say his own name.

Athena’s jaw tightened. "Okay," she said gently. "That’s alright. Can you stand?"

The boy hesitated before nodding slowly. Athena reached out and carefully lifted him into her arms. He was light, too light. His body was frail, evidence of malnutrition and mistreatment.

She adjusted his weight, securing him against her chest as she stepped out into the hallway. The air was thick with tension. She needed to get out of here before anyone noticed.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the corridor.

Athena’s breath hitched. She pressed herself against the shadows, cradling the boy close as she listened. The steps were slow and deliberate. Someone was coming.

Her mind raced. Fighting in such a confined space would be risky, especially with the child in her arms. But she couldn’t let whoever was coming to see her.

She backed into the open cell, shutting the door just enough to leave a sliver of an opening to watch.

A figure emerged at the end of the hallway, carrying a lantern. Athena’s breath caught as the light illuminated the man’s face.

It was one of Mors’s shadow guards.

But the look in his eyes was wrong. There was no loyalty, no discipline. Only cold indifference.

The man stopped in front of the door across from them, unlocking it with a set of keys. He stepped inside, and a sharp gasp of pain followed.

Athena swallowed hard.

Who else was being kept down here?

And why was this happening under Mors’s own roof?