And they worshiped me.
Until Atlas returned.
Self-righteous.
Educated.
Smart.
Dangerous.
Just like his father, except with a sharper mind and a colder heart.
And now, that little bastard thinks he can usurp me?
Thinks he can swoop in and reclaim what should have been mine from the beginning?
No. No, no, no.
I built this life.
I earned this power.
And I will rip out his heart before I ever let him take it back.
“W-what do I have to do with any of this?” comes a trembling voice behind me.
“Have I been monologuing?” I laugh as I take her in.
His wife.
His American wife.
I turn.
She’s beautiful in a flashy, overripe way. All curves and fire and tattoos. Too bold for a Greek princess.
Too wild. Too modern.
“So, he actually married you to save a mine? Ha!”
I smile slowly.
“That’s right. I-I mean nothing to him.”
“I think you lie.”
And now I see it.
I glance down.
“The Stavros ring. Sentimental fool,” I growl, and rip it from her finger.
She cries out, blood drips from her hand, and I glare at the ring my mother should have worn.
“He gave his American whore the Stavros ring!”
She is it. I am right. The one flaw in Atlas’ armor.
