Chapter 11
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When the Clarks adopted Olivia, everyone blamed Natasha’s kid tantrum for running off, which sent her mom, Emilia, chasing after her and into a deadly car crash.
So, they lavished love on Olivia, the two–year–old left motherless, while Natasha, barely older, got pushed aside.
Those two? Like fire and gasoline. Together, trouble was guaranteed—usually with Natasha stirring the pot.
One day, they both took a nasty spill down the stairs. Olivia, hurt worse, woke up first and pleaded, “Don’t be mad at Nat!” Turned out, Natasha had shoved her over a doll.
That doll was a gift from Andrew’s overseas trip, meant for Natasha, while Olivia got a sparkly hairpin.
Olivia’s sad eyes when she saw the doll tugged at everyone’s heart, so the adults gave it to her.
Natasha had tons of toys, they figured, while Olivia, with her deadbeat dad, barely had clothes that fit.
Natasha threw a fit, got talked down, then sulked with jealousy. That set Andrew off. He locked her in her room, no questions asked.
While Olivia was in the hospital, feeling rough, the family stayed glued to her side.
Nobody noticed Natasha, stuck in her room, starving for two days and spiking a fever–until Lucas couldn’t find her and called Josephine in a panic.
Josephine tore into Madeline and Andrew like a hurricane.
Seeing her once–lively granddaughter turn quiet and dark broke Josephine’s heart. Over everyone’s protests, she took Natasha to live with her for three years. Only when Andphis City’s schools were too good to pass up did she let her go back.
But Natasha wilted like a flower without sun in the Clark house.
Josephine was old and knew she couldn’t protect Natasha forever. She brought her to the old house for summer and winter breaks, nagging the Clarks to step up.
In her mind, Olivia’s life was rough, sure, but Natasha, born into a happy home, didn’t deserve to be treated like an orphan.
What Josephine didn’t see was how her care for Natasha looked to Olivia–and the disaster it sparked.
It was a lazy summer afternoon. The girls had grown into stunning teens, bright like the peach trees
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Chapter 11
in the yard.
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For summer break, Olivia offered to join Natasha at Josephine’s in Scrushire. Seeing them together warmed Josephine’s heart, thinking things might finally be okay.
But soon, she saw the truth. Natasha was too soft around Olivia, letting her walk all over her like a doormat.
It hit Joseohinelike a punch: this “peace” was just the family’s bias blinding them. It hurt deep.
That night, after Natasha was out cold, Josephine and Olivia had a long talk that turned into a bit of a shouting match.
The next afternoon, Natasha went to pick wild berries, sorting Josephine’s heart meds and tucking them in her pocket. “Take these on time, okay?” she said.
Olivia, feeling off, stayed home to rest.
Even with her foster sister looming like a storm cloud, that summer felt like a break for Natasha, who was used to the family’s constant grief.
But when she got back to the yard, everything froze.
Her mind was a mess, questions piling up. ‘Grandma was totally fine when I left–how’d she just keel over?
‘Her pills were right there in her pocket, so how’d they end up scattered a yard away?
‘Where the hell was Olivia? What was she up to? And that smug, evil smirk of hers…‘
That day, Josephine’s death broke Natasha. She’d never dared snap at Olivia before, but now? She lost it, nearly beating her to a pulp.
If Madeline hadn’t dropped by to see her mom, they might’ve found two bodies.
Natasha was dead sure Olivia was behind it. Ignoring everyone’s pleas, she called the cops.
But the autopsy said heart attack, no foul play.
Olivia claimed she’d been asleep, only coming out after Josephine was gone.
The fallout? Olivia was in the hospital for a month. Natasha got sent to a psych ward for “treatment”
for a month.
When she got out, she was still ready to swing at Olivia.
Madeline slapped her hard, tears falling. “You killed your aunt, and now you want your sister dead? Natasha, I wish I’d never had you!”
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Chapter 11
*****
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Natasha dropped her vendetta to jail Olivia, but something in her shattered.
The quiet, shadowy girl turned into a prickly rebel, all attitude and sharp edges.
Wherever Olivia was, Natasha showed up, ready to clash, all venom and glares.
That was when the Clark family’s second heiress got labeled a snake. Her name became poison, sneered at by all.
The Clarks never hid Olivia’s past–adopted, keeping her last name, Sutton.
To outsiders, she was just a Clark, using her mom’s surname. But those in the know? That “Sutton” was a constant jab, stirring up old wounds.
Gossip spread like wildfire. Nobody knew the full story–just that Natasha had a hand in Olivia’s mom’s death. Yet she kept targeting the poor orphan. Ungrateful. Heartless.
Schoolmates, neighbors, even kin turned their backs on Natasha’s cruelty.
Everyone shunned her. Natasha became an island, alone and despised.
Few knew the truth: Alice, once her friend, owed her big. When bullies cornered Alice, Natasha threw punches and sent them packing. She even shared food with Alice, who was too broke to eat.
But it was Alice who spread the lies about Natasha hating and framing Olivia.
Still, Natasha didn’t try to make nice. She charged through life like a wounded porcupine, spikes out, bleeding but unbowed.
She should’ve seen it coming. Anything Natasha had, Olivia wanted–and she’d play dirty to take it. When Josephine said she’d leave the house to Natasha, Olivia’s scheming kicked in.
And she didn’t lose a second’s sleep over it.
Stone–faced, Natasha pulled a cheap lighter from her pocket, bought at some random gas station. She flicked it, lit a pile of leaves, and tossed them into the courtyard.
Flames roared up, reflecting in her eyes–wild, fierce, a little crazy.
Even if Olivia didn’t kill Josephine, Natasha was sure she’d watched her die, cold as stone,
Natasha wasn’t letting her snatch that house. If she couldn’t have it, neither would Olivia.
Let the whole place burn, just like her grandparents had gone.
I’ll burn it to ashes before I let Olivia touch it, she thought. “Three days from now, she can have her precious ruins.
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Chapter 11
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They should’ve known when they threatened her: Natasha was a loose cannon, a nutcase with nothing to lose.
She stood in the dark, watching the place that held her happiest memories turn to soot. When the fire was nearly out, she calmly called the fire department, spinning a tale about “missing Grandma” and “accidentally starting a fire” while cleaning up.
Firefighters got there fast. But with just the one house, the flames were already dying when they got
there.
It was late, the mountains dark and eerie, a weird wind howling.
A girl “accidentally” torching an old house? Straight out of a horror flick.
Luckily, no one was hurt, and nothing else burned.
The firefighters and cops even tried to comfort her, tossing out kind words and a few pats on the
back.
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