Three days back, Olivia tracked down Natasha.
“You heard Lucas is gearing up to propose, right?” Olivia said.
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Her gorgeous eyes sparkled with jealousy and a nasty edge. “Rumor has it the family was ready to fast–track an engagement bash, but Lucas? He’s all about the big moment. Wants to hear you say ‘yes‘ with his own ears. Man, he’s really going all out, huh?”
“What’s your point?” Natasha shot back, cool as ice.
Olivia’s lips curled into a vicious smirk. “My point? Why does a trainwreck like you get to be happy, Natasha?”
“Wanna make a bet?” she sneered. “I’m calling it—this proposal’s gonna crash and burn in three days.”
Natasha locked eyes with Olivia. Everyone saw Olivia as this sweet, classy angel, but no one caught the poison in her gaze like Natasha did.
Sure, Natasha could’ve nixed the proposal with one word, but Olivia was playing the long game, waiting for the perfect moment to yank the rug out from under her, just like always.
*****
The proposal was a total flop. Sadie had just bolted after a frantic call from her family, her face pale as a ghost.
She’d offered to drop Natasha off–Natasha had ridden with Luças–but Natasha overheard it was about her mom and told Sadie to go.
Now, with the place cleared out, Natasha stood alone, staring at the drooping flowers. Thinking back on the night’s pathetic proposal, she let out a dry, bitter chuckle.
It was late, the streets dead quiet. Instead of heading home, she wandered along the river, letting the chilly breeze clear her mind.
But it didn’t take long to sense something was wrong.
Someone was tailing her.
She faked a selfie, catching a glimpse of a few guys closing in behind her. Heart racing, she picked
pace, but they stayed right on her tail.
up her
Her fingers slipped, accidentally hitting the emergency contact Lucas had set up a year ago.
Back then, she’d gotten into it with some sleaze hitting on a girl, snapped his arm, and landed in
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the police station. Lucas bailed her out, nagging her the whole time about being too reckless.
He’d made himself her emergency contact, telling her to call him if she was ever in a matter when, no matter where, he’d show up.
jam–no
Guess this was the first time she’d actually needed it.
Lucas’s exhausted voice came through. “Natasha?”
He was already at the hospital. The car crash wasn’t too serious, but Olivia–born premature, always delicate–had been rattled bad. Only Lucas could calm her down.
The Clark family was camped out in the waiting room, and he’d just gotten Olivia to doze off when the phone rang, stirring her awake.
“Lucas, someone’s following me,” Natasha whispered.
A long silence. “Natasha, I can’t do this tonight. Quit messing with me.”
He thought she was pulling a fast one to drag him away from Olivia.
Madeline, Natasha’s mom, overheard and grabbed the phone, her usual warm face now stormy with rage. “Natasha! Your sister’s in the hospital, and you can’t even bother to show up. Now you’re out stirring up trouble in the middle of the night, making up lies?
When are you gonna act your age? Nobody’s leaving Olivia to deal with your crap tonight. Get a grip!”
Click. The line went dead.
Olivia, pale and fragile on the hospital bed, spoke softly. “Mom, don’t be mad. What if Natasha’s really in trouble?”
Madeline handed the phone back to Lucas, her face heavy with disappointment. “Trouble? The only trouble she’s got is trying to steal the spotlight from you when you need us most.
“This isn’t her first stunt.”
Back in ninth grade, Natasha had called home one night after study hall, swearing she’d been kidnapped and begging the whole family to come save her.
That same night, Olivia had a medical crisis, and the family was already freaking out. When they heard Natasha’s news, Madeline nearly collapsed from the stress.
They rushed to a construction site near her school with the cash she’d demanded, only to find Natasha strolling out, totally fine, not a mark on her. No kidnappers, no nothing,
Meanwhile, back home, Olivia had passed out alone on the floor.
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Natasha had bribed the maid to ignore Olivia, knowing she’d be helpless when her condition flared up. By the time they got Olivia to the hospital, the doctors said she’d barely made it.
Furious, Natasha’s dad whipped her so hard she landed in the hospital for a month. Even then, she wouldn’t apologize to Olivia.
Madeline sighed, wondering when her once–sweet, soft little girl had turned so wild and defiant.
Lucas knew about that drama, too. The Clark family had been pissed, focused only on Olivia.
During Natasha’s hospital stay, they hired a nurse and didn’t visit once.
Lucas was the only one who snuck in after school, bringing her snacks and telling dumb jokes to make her smile.
Whatever. The proposal has tanked, and Natasha is probably just acting out,‘ Lucas thought.
He didn’t have the energy to play her games. He’d smooth things over tomorrow when she’d cooled off.
He set his phone aside and checked Olivia’s forehead. “Fever’s down. Get some sleep, alright?”
Olivia, half–hidden under the blankets, peeked out with worried eyes. “Lucas, I’m so sorry about the proposal.
“It’s all my fault. If I wasn’t such a mess, I wouldn’t be dragging you down.”
“Don’t talk like that,” Lucas said gently. “The crash wasn’t on you. And you’re never a burden.”
“Lucas…” Her voice faded.
“Sleep
She closed her eyes, a peaceful smile spreading across her face. Tonight, she’d drift off into sweet dreams.
The guy on her tail wasn’t in any hurry, like he was playing with a cornered stray.
Natasha sprinted, phone pressed to her ear, her boyfriend’s icy tone cutting through. Her mom’s
rage crackled over the line, but after so many letdowns, it didn’t even sting anymore.
It just left her chest hollow, like someone had carved out a chunk of her heart.
April’s breeze should’ve been warm. But it bite like winter.
Those jerks were steering her toward the dark on purpose.
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She slid to a stop under a gnarled tree, staring blankly at a jagged rock, her face unreadable.
Fifteen minutes later, it was chaos.
A pack of thugs lay scattered, groaning, clutching shattered arms, busted legs, or heads split open like overripe fruit.
Drained, Natasha flopped onto her back, away from the carnage. Her blood–streaked hand shakily dialed 911. Then she just stared into the empty sky, lost in a daze.
Since that ninth–grade disaster, she’d thrown herself into Muay Thai and self–defense.
She’d figured out young: nobody would got her back like herself do.
One idiot with a broken hand tried to creep up on her. Natasha caught him in the corner of her eye, fists ready, but before she could move, a brutal kick sent the guy flying.
A stupidly gorgeous face leaned into view, the guy looming over her with a sly grin. “Well, hell. Who’s this little scrapper?”
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