The Bigshot's Superstar Wife-Chapter 104: The Same Pain

Athena listened in silence, her fingers curled tightly around the fabric of her sleeves.

Mors had just finished telling her the story of the nameless little prince, his voice steady but carrying the weight of something deeper, something painful.

The tale of a child locked away in the darkness, unseen and unloved, made her heart ache in a way she hadn’t expected.

Her past was cruel, but at least she had lived.

She thought back to her first life, to the orphanage that had taken her in when she was just a child. It was not a kind place, nor was it a warm one.

The caretakers were strict, the punishments harsh, and the food was barely enough to sustain the dozens of children left under their care. But even so, she had been given a name.

Athena.

She repeated it in her mind, realizing how much of a privilege that alone had been.

No one in the orphanage truly loved her, but she had a bed, hard as it was, and a roof over her head.

The meals, though scarce, kept her from starving to death. And in the eyes of the world, she had an identity. She existed.

But the little prince?

He was nothing.

She thought back to the torturous training she endured when she was recruited as an assassin.

The days without food, the sleepless nights spent running through deadly obstacle courses, the punishments that left scars both on her body and soul.

She had been beaten, burned, cut open, and even poisoned to strengthen her endurance. But she had never been caged.

Even at her worst, even when she was forced into brutal missions where failure meant death, she had the sky above her.

She had the ability to run, to move, to fight back. Her body was battered, but her spirit had never been completely broken.

The little prince had no such luxury.

She closed her eyes, remembering the countless times she had collapsed from exhaustion, her hands raw and bleeding from training.

But no matter how bad it was, she had always been given a purpose.

"You’re an assassin now," her mentor had once told her. "You belong to the shadows, but that means you can walk the world freely, unseen but never truly trapped."

But the boy Mors spoke of had never even been given a chance.

Athena clenched her fists.

She had hated the people who made her suffer.

She had resented every cruel master who had tried to break her will, every mission that left her covered in blood, every sleepless night spent nursing wounds she wasn’t allowed to show.

But the little prince?

He didn’t even know who to hate. How could he, when he had never been given anything at all?

She imagined him, small and fragile, curled up in the dark with only his own whispers for comfort.

A child who had no mother’s lullaby, no name to call his own, no freedom beyond the cold stone walls of his prison.

A child who was told he was nothing.

Tears burned at the edges of her vision. She wasn’t the type to cry easily, but this, this was unbearable.

Mors watched her, his expression unreadable. He hadn’t spoken since finishing the story, letting her process the weight of it in silence.

But she could feel it, his pain, his quiet rage, the way his fingers curled slightly at his side as if suppressing the urge to destroy something.

She swallowed hard, her voice hoarse when she finally spoke.

"How… how could they do that to him?"

Mors looked at her then, his blue eyes dark and heavy. "Because power is all that matters in the Sinalta Empire."

Athena had known cruelty. She had faced it her entire life. But this was a different kind of evil, one that didn’t even bother pretending to be anything else.

She thought back to her past again, to the nights she spent hiding from stronger assassins who saw her as nothing more than a stepping stone to their own advancement.

She had nearly died too many times to count. She had been starved, abandoned, and forced to kill to survive.

But she had survived.

Because at least she had the choice to fight.

But the little prince had been born into chains.

He had never been given the chance to fight for his freedom. His mother had died calling for him, but he would never even know her voice.

Th𝓮 most uptodate nov𝑒ls are publish𝒆d on ƒreewebηoveℓ.com.

Athena felt sick.

She had spent so much of her past life believing she had suffered the worst of what the world had to offer.

She had thought that growing up as an orphan, being forced into the life of an assassin, and enduring years of pain had made her strong.

But compared to what that child had gone through…

She had been free.

Mors suddenly stepped closer, his presence grounding her spiraling thoughts. His hand found hers, fingers curling around hers with quiet strength. "Athena," he murmured.

She looked up at him, her chest tightening at the sorrow in his gaze.

"You’re thinking too much," he said.

"How could I not?" she whispered.

Mors exhaled softly. "Because you know there is nothing we can change about the past."

Athena clenched her jaw. She knew that. But knowing didn’t make it any easier.

Mors tilted his head slightly, his golden hair catching the dim light. "But the present is still ours."

She looked at him, waiting for him to continue. And then he spoke the words that sent a shiver down her spine.

"The little prince is still alive, Athena."

Her breath caught. She had assumed… No, she hadn’t even dared to ask.

Mors nodded, as if reading her thoughts. "He’s still alive. We will take care of him."

Something flickered in Athena’s chest, a spark of something she hadn’t expected.

Hope.

Yes, we will take care of him.

After finishing her conversation, Athena decided to take a relaxing bath.

As she stepped out, she was surprised to find a small vial of potion resting on the table, accompanied by a neatly written note.

[Congratulations on helping a child! Keep up the good work!]

The unexpected gift left her both curious and intrigued.

Will this help Mors?

But who left it?