The Bigshot's Superstar Wife-Chapter 95: A Call

Lawrence Demerin stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of his office aboard the warship, his gaze fixed on the vast expanse of stars beyond.

His jaw tightened as his finger hovered over the call button on his optical brain. The encrypted line crackled softly, signaling a secure connection to his sister, Athena.

The call connected, and Athena’s face appeared on the holographic screen. Her brows knitted slightly in surprise.

"Brother?" she asked, sitting up straighter. "What’s wrong?"

"I need to tell you something," Lawrence said without preamble.

His voice was steady, but Athena caught the faint tension beneath the surface, a rare occurrence for her composed brother.

"Someone from Mors’ family arrived on Asenus recently. They claimed to be here for a vacation."

Athena’s eyes narrowed. "From the Jericho family? I didn’t hear anything from Mors about a family visit."

Lawrence nodded and sent a digital image through the call. Athena’s screen shifted, displaying a photograph taken from a surveillance feed.

It showed a woman with dark hair standing near one of the city’s plazas. Her hood was drawn up, but her profile was unmistakable.

Athena leaned forward, her heart skipping a beat. The resemblance was uncanny.

The woman’s delicate features mirrored Mors’ own sharp jawline and the signature black tint of the Jericho lineage glimmered faintly in her hair.

"She looks like..." Athena hesitated.

"Like a female version of your husband," Lawrence finished for her. His voice was clipped. "She’s using the name Miss El, but the documents she presented were...odd."

"Odd?" Athena’s forehead creased with worry.

"Fabricated," Lawrence said. "Not expertly, either. Someone deliberately left flaws for us to notice. As if they wanted us to know she wasn’t who she claimed to be."

Athena felt a chill run down her spine. "That doesn’t sound like a vacationer."

"No, it doesn’t," Lawrence agreed. "And that’s what’s bothering me."

Athena rubbed her temples. "Mors hasn’t mentioned any relatives coming here. And if she really is part of the Jericho family...why the false identity?"

"I’m not sure," Lawrence admitted. "But there’s something else."

"What?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"She was attacked during her journey here," he said.

"A direct assassination attempt while traveling under a false identity. Our patrol team found her after her ship crashed in the Blackthorn Forest. She’s been recovering since."

Athena’s heart stuttered. "Assassinated? Why would someone try to kill her if she’s just here for a vacation?"

"That’s what I’d like to know," Lawrence replied. "And why does she resemble Mors so much?"

Athena fell silent, thoughts racing. Mors rarely spoke of his family, only mentioning that his siblings lived far away from interstellar politics.

Yet here was a supposed relative, arriving with a false identity and narrowly surviving an assassination attempt.

"Where is she now?" Athena finally asked.

"At the White Laurel Villa," Lawrence said. "Under watch, but we’ve kept it discreet. I didn’t want to alert anyone until I spoke to you."

"Does Mors know?" Athena asked.

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"I haven’t informed him yet," Lawrence said. "I wanted your take first. If this woman is indeed connected to him...I figured you’d know."

Athena shook her head. "I’ve never seen her before. Mors has never mentioned a sister."

"Then either she’s lying about being part of the Jericho family," Lawrence said, "or Mors has been keeping secrets."

Athena’s chest tightened. Mors keeping secrets wasn’t impossible, after all, he was a military leader and often withheld information for security reasons. But hiding an entire sister?

"I’ll talk to him," Athena said. "But be cautious with her. If someone tried to kill her, she might bring danger with her."

Lawrence gave a curt nod. "Understood."

The call ended, and Athena sat there, staring at the frozen image of the mysterious woman on her screen. The uncanny resemblance to Mors gnawed at her.

That night, when Mors returned, Athena waited until after dinner to broach the subject. They sat in the garden, the stars twinkling overhead like shards of broken glass.

"Mors," she began softly, "did you know someone from your family is on Asenus?"

His hand stilled as he reached for his tea. "My family?"

"Yes," she said. "A woman named Miss El. She looks...a lot like you."

Mors’s grip on the cup tightened. The porcelain cracked under the pressure. Dark tea seeped through the fissure and dripped onto the marble table.

Athena’s heart lurched. "You do know her."

Mors didn’t respond immediately. His eyes remained fixed on the tea as if it held all the answers he sought. "Elara," he said, at last, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Who is she?" Athena pressed.

"My younger sister," Mors admitted. "She wasn’t supposed to come there."

Athena’s breath caught. "Why not?"

"Because she’s being hunted," Mors said, finally looking at her. His normally cold eyes were clouded with worry. "The concubine of the king...wants her dead."

"The concubine?" Athena repeated, shocked. "Why would a royal concubine want to kill your sister?"

Mors ran a hand through his hair.

"Because Elara knows the truth about the royal succession. The concubine has been manipulating events for years to position her son as heir. My sister...uncovered the scheme. She’s the last living witness to the evidence."

Athena felt her pulse race. "So she’s a target."

Mors gave a grim nod. "I told her to hide on the outer planets, but she’s always been stubborn. If she’s there, it’s because she believes she can find sanctuary with me."

Athena reached out, covering his hand with hers. "We’ll protect her."

Mors squeezed her hand gently.

"I hope so. But if Elara is there, it means the concubine has already moved her pieces to Asenus. And that means the throne war is closer than I expected."

Meanwhile, at the White Laurel Villa, Elara Jericho stood on the balcony, gazing at the faint glow of the Demerin estate in the distance.

The cold night air stung her cheeks, but she welcomed the discomfort. It grounded her and kept her mind sharp.

Her communicator buzzed. She answered, speaking softly. "Yes?"

"Their forces are already here," came the voice on the other end. "We intercepted coded transmissions. They’re planning another attempt on your life."

Elara exhaled slowly. "Let them come. I’m tired of running."

"You can’t fight them alone," the voice insisted.

"I’m not alone anymore," she said, glancing toward the distant estate. "Mors is there. And so is the Demerin family."

"Don’t trust them too easily," the voice warned. "Not everyone who smiles at you wants to protect you."

Elara disconnected the call and clenched the pendant around her neck, a small, unassuming locket containing a microchip with the evidence that could shatter the throne’s fragile peace.

As the wind howled around her, she whispered to herself, "I won’t let them win. Not this time."