Athena had settled into a routine, blending seamlessly into the mundane life of an ordinary person.
She lived in quiet luxury, dividing her time between her secret villa in the suburbs and a modern apartment in the city center.
The villa was secluded, hidden from prying eyes, with high-tech security that she had no memory of installing.
It was a place that felt both foreign and familiar, a contradiction that often left her uneasy.
The apartment, on the other hand, was a comfortable place where she could observe city life and feel like she belonged among the crowd.
Despite her wealth, she had no recollection of how she had amassed such a fortune.
Her bank accounts were overflowing, enough that she never had to work again, yet no record of a past job existed.
Every attempt to trace her transactions led to dead ends. It was as if someone had deliberately erased her history.
Instead of dwelling on it, she found a peculiar passion, writing.
