Athena found herself surrounded almost immediately—hands extending toward her, smiles flashing under the warm golden light that streamed from the chandelier above.
She had been congratulated before—at ceremonies, conferences, dinners—but this was different. Every handshake carried weight, every congratulatory word seemed to press into her skin like a seal.
"Congratulations, Miss Thorne,"
"You deserve it,"
"We're honored to have you lead us."
The compliments came from every direction. She smiled at them all, her practiced composure never slipping. Well until Ewan came forward to shake her.
He offered his hand with that familiar confidence of his, and she took it—her fingers fitting easily against his.
"Congratulations, Miss Thorne," he said, voice low enough for only her to hear.
The faintest smile tugged at her lips. "Thank you, Mr. Ewan."
