Chapter 7
It wasn’t too bad, honestly. The thugs got the worst of it.
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If not for the guy who showed up–some shady dude with a slick lawyer–Natasha and her rescuer might’ve been the ones facing assault charges from those creeps.
The cop, a grizzled vet, still shivered thinking about those punks‘ battered state. Whoever did it was a total badass.
Everyone just assumed it was Alexei,
In their eyes, Natasha was just a quiet, gorgeous girl. No way she could be that vicious. Even Alexei played along, taking the credit.
But the cop smelled family drama and leaned in, twisting the knife. “Oh, it was rough.
“She was a mess when we got her–blood everywhere, head busted, arm jacked up. Barely said a word. Imagine being cornered at night by a bunch of tatted–up dirtbags hitting on you. Who wouldn’t be scared shitless?
“All alone, no family to call, just curled up in a corner, only talking when we pushed her. Broke my
heart.
“She tried calling a few times, but no one answered. Said she’s on her own. That guy’s lawyer bailed her out. We thought she was an orphan–didn’t wanna pry. Turns out she’s got family. So, where were you all last night?”
The question hit like a jab, and the Clarks flushed red with shame.
They’d figured Natasha was just throwing a fit over her ruined engagement. With Olivia’s health crisis eating at them, they had no patience for her drama, so they all–without a word–turned off their phones.
Lucas’s mind flashed to last night’s call. Natasha’s voice, shaky, saying she was being followed, begging for help.
And he’d just told her to quit screwing around.
How scared and alone she must’ve been.
He remembered their promise: always answer, never go dark. He’d failed her
His chest felt like it was caving in, guilt crushing him.
Andrew cleared his throat. “Let’s have Natasha over for dinner. Make her favorites.”
Noel, rattled that this wasn’t just Natasha’s usual antics, shifted, half–ashamed, half–annoyed. “They
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7:37 pm
Chapter 7
nab those creeps, right?”
The cop nodded. “Locked up tight.”
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Thomas’s face was stone–cold. “We want those punks hit hard. And the guy who helped my sister— got his number? We’ll stop by to thank him.”
He decided to send a fat check. The guy stepped up when they didn’t.
The family nodded, on the same page.
*****
Meanwhile, as the Clarks grilled the cop, Alexei, the “good Samaritan,” was flipping through a thick file on Natasha.
His fingers turned the pages, eyes sharp and unreadable.
Natasha’s life split into three clear parts.
Before six, she was the Clarks‘ princess, spoiled rotten, full of spark.
After six, when Olivia came along, Natasha faded into a shadow, barely seen. Now, Olivia was the Clark family star, not Natasha.
Back then, Natasha was a doormat–jumping through hoops for Olivia and the family, like a puppet with no soul.
Then, at seventeen, something broke. She went full rebel, turned nasty, targeting Olivia with every trick in the book. It trashed her family ties, and after college, she ditched the Clarks for good.
Shawn, the loyal assistant, sighed dramatically. “The Clark sisters are like night and day. The older one’s a sweetheart, talented, a real star. The younger? A loudmouth troublemaker, totally mediocre.”
The man in the sleek office chair, his sharp face cool as ice, let out a low, “Tch. Idiots.”
Who he was shading? No one could tell.
Shawn wisely kept his mouth shut–eyes down, playing statue.
The Turners ran this city. Period. And Alexei, the heir apparent? The guy could snap his fingers and the whole city would tremble. He could trash–talk anyone, order anyone dead, and they’d just have
to take it.
‘But why is this guy suddenly so interested in some girl? No way the ice–prince actually gives a damn. Ha, Yeah right. The thought was so ridiculous Shawn almost snorted.
Besides, if the Devil himself took an interest in you? Game over. That girl was screwed.
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Chapter 7
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While Shawn’s brain short–circuited, Alexei’s gaze slid back to the file entry–Age 6.
Olivia’s mom, Emilia, and Natasha’s mom, Madeline, were sisters. Rumor had it Andrew was supposed to marry Emilia, but somehow he got stuck with Madeline instead.
Madeline lucked out–perfect marriage, perfect kids.
Emilia? Married a violent, gambling deadbeat. She divorced him, thanks to sis’s help, and raised Olivia alone–her preemie daughter, stuck with her mom’s last name like a badge of shame.
Then came Natasha’s sixth birthday. Emilia went looking for the brat after she threw a tantrum and bolted. Next thing anyone knew–crash. Emilia was gone.
Olivia, half–orphaned, got scooped up by the guilt–tripped Clarks.
They spoiled her rotten–better than their own flesh and blood. Like some messed–up karma cleanse.
And Olivia ran with it. Played the perfect little saint so well, she had the whole damn family eating out of her hand–Natasha’s own brothers included.
Alexei rubbed the still–tender mark on his forehead–courtesy of last night’s little hellcat. His eyes flicked between photos: baby Natasha, all chubby cheeks and sunshine, versus her teenage counterpart–silent, sulking, a thundercloud in human form.
That fire in her eyes when she fought, though? Now she was interesting.
The Clarks hated her rebellious streak. But he loved it.
To him, any girl who could flip off her golden–child sister–even with the whole family breathing down her neck–had guts.
Think she’d burn the Turner house down if I tossed her in?” Casual, like he was asking about the weather.
Shawn near choked.
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