Chapter 1 The Ridiculous Proposal Bang—

The door to the private room slammed open, hard enough to rattle the walls.

A frantic figure rushed in, shouting, "Olivia's in trouble!"

That one line sucked the air out of the room. The place, decked out with flowers and streamers for a proposal, went from warm and celebratory to dead quiet in a heartbeat.

At the center of the crowd, Lucas Wright—the guy of the hour, down on one knee with a ring in his hand—spun around, stunned. "What the hell did you just say?"

Matthew Hill, the guy with the loud blue hair, rushed forward, his voice urgent. "Mrs. Clark called. Olivia's been in a car accident, she's at the hospital right now."

And just like that, chaos erupted. Everyone bolted for the door, tripping over each other to get out.

Olivia Sutton was the group's untouchable queen. Gorgeous, sweet, crazy talented, and stuck with a fragile body that made everyone want to protect her.

Now that she was in trouble, no one cared about the proposal anymore. It was like the whole room lost interest in the whole thing.

Even the groom-to-be just turned and left.

"Lucas—" A soft, almost dreamy voice called from behind.

The room froze. Everyone suddenly realized the other star of this show—the girl Lucas was proposing to—hadn't said a single word.

In the scramble, someone must've hit the light switch, because the bright room dimmed to a faint glow from some amber fairy lights.

Natasha, pushed to the corner, stood there, her face half in shadow. That stunning face of hers, always a head-turner, was weirdly calm. No emotion, no nothing.

"You didn't even wait for my answer," she said, voice steady.

Just minutes ago, Lucas had dropped the big question. "Will you marry me?"

His tall frame stopped dead in the doorway, like it just hit him he was about to bail on his almost-fiancée without a word.

He didn't answer her. Instead, he softened his tone, trying to smooth things over. "Natasha, I'm sorry, babe. I gotta get to the hospital. Just… head home, okay?"

"And if I say you can't go?" Natasha's voice didn't waver, but it had a bite. "You know I can't stand her, Lucas."

He sighed, clearly over it. "Natasha, come on. This isn't the time to act up."

"My answer? It's now or never." Her words were cool, almost too cool.

Lucas's brow furrowed. Something about Natasha tonight felt different.

Normally, she'd be throwing a fit by now, maybe tossing out some snarky jab about Olivia, like hoping she'd stay in the hospital for good.

But this Natasha? She was chill, like she'd seen this whole mess coming.

For some reason, that made his stomach twist.

"Pfft, what's with the theatrics?" Matthew scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Come on, Natasha. You've been stuck to Lucas like glue for twenty years. You're head over heels for the guy. You were probably losing it when he popped the question. No way you're saying no."

Someone else piped up. "Yeah, seriously. It's just a proposal. You can do it another day. Olivia's life's on the line here."

"Exactly. You two were always gonna tie the knot. This whole thing's just for show," another voice added.

The room buzzed with snide comments, but Natasha didn't blink. Her sharp eyes stayed locked on Lucas, waiting for his call.

Lucas let out a heavy sigh and stepped closer, doing what he always did—patting her head like she was some kid.

"Be good, alright?" he said. "Don't make a big deal outta this. Olivia could be in real danger. This isn't the time to throw a fit."

Same old song and dance. Whenever she and Olivia butted heads, he'd apologize to Olivia without a second thought, then turn to Natasha—fuming like a wildcat—and talk to her like she was being childish.

To him, her anger was cute, not serious. Her feelings? Never mattered.

This proposal? Just going through the motions. Lucas never even thought she'd say no.

"Oh, hell no, I'm done with this nonsense!" A furious voice exploded behind Natasha. Sadie Torres, her ride-or-die bestie, had been holding it together since Matthew crashed the party.

But she was over it. "Lucas, what are you, her personal EMT? Why's it always you running to Olivia's rescue? And how freaking convenient is it that she picks now to crash her car?

"Last time it was a date, now it's your damn proposal. What, she can't wait five minutes before keeling over?"

Sadie had poured her heart into helping plan this proposal.

And now, once again, Olivia had swooped in and wrecked it.

And Lucas? Total jerk move, ditching Natasha for Olivia again.

Sadie wasn't done. She turned on the crowd. "And you guys! Why're you all tripping over yourselves to get out the door? What's the rush—visiting Olivia or picking out her tombstone?

"With how often she's in the hospital, you've probably spent a fortune on flowers by now!"

"Ms. Torres!" Lucas's usually chill face turned stormy, his voice sharp. "Watch it."

"Oh, screw you!" Sadie fired back, glaring at the guy who'd defend Olivia till his last breath. "You're so quick to lose it when someone talks smack about Olivia, but do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"

Lucas's face darkened, but before he could say anything, Natasha grabbed Sadie's arm.

Her voice was calm, final. "You walk out that door tonight, we're through."

The room went dead silent. Lucas's frown deepened. He glanced at Natasha, his tone half-soothing, half-promising. "Don't say stuff you'll regret, Natasha. I'll be back, and we'll sort this out."

Then he turned and strode out.

'How bad's Olivia hurt?' he wondered. 'When I get back, I'll make it up to Natasha with a better proposal. Oh, and I gotta tell her to ditch Sadie. That girl's trouble.'

The room's energy crashed hard. Sure, people were pissed at Natasha's "drama" and Sadie's big mouth, but nobody wanted to mess with Lucas's future wife or a Torres family member. So, one by one, they slipped out, quiet as mice.

In minutes, the once-buzzing proposal scene was a graveyard.

Crushed petals and streamers littered the floor, next to spilled wine bottles, a toppled chair, and scattered desserts. The whole mess screamed how pathetic this half-assed proposal had been.

As the crowd faded into the distance, some tagalong who'd come for the drama suddenly spoke up. "Hold up. Isn't Olivia—the one in the accident—Natasha's foster sister from the Clark family?

"I heard they're legit cousins. Why didn't anyone ask Natasha to come to the hospital?"

Someone snorted. "Ask her? So she can finish Olivia off?"

"Huh? Spill the tea!"

"Oh, buckle up. Let's talk about how Natasha's been nothing but ungrateful and nasty…"

The usual venom and gossip followed, same as it had for years. Whenever Natasha and Olivia's names came up together, the knives came out.

Sadie's face burned red with anger as she glanced at Natasha, who was oddly silent.

The world's gossip couldn't touch Natasha anymore, but losing someone she loved? That hurt like hell.

She watched Lucas walk away, step by step, just like she'd watched their once-tight bond fall apart over the years.

She kept staring as he walked out of her life for good.

Sadie asked, "If this crash hadn't happened, would you have said yes to him?"

Didn't matter. The ending was set in stone. Olivia would never let Natasha get her happy ending.

And Lucas'd never pick Natasha over Olivia.

The second he turned his back, he didn't realize that while the future might stretch on, the girl who once wanted to marry him was done waiting.

'Lucas, I'm letting you go for real this time,' she thought bitterly.

On the cluttered table, Natasha's phone lit up with a new message.

A short, smug text, oozing with victory: [You lost.]

Chapter 2 Who's This Sad Little Stray? Three days back, Olivia tracked down Natasha.

"You heard Lucas is gearing up to propose, right?" Olivia said.

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, Olivia could've nixed the proposal with one word, but she was playing the long game, waiting for the perfect moment to yank the rug out from under Natasha, 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 Lucas—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 up her pace, but they stayed right on her tail.

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 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 jam—no matter when, no matter where, he'd show up.

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.

Turned out, it was all a nasty prank by Natasha.The kidnapping? Totally fake.

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.

'Lucas shrugged. 'Can't blame her—I did bail on the proposal halfway through. No shock Natasha's totally ticked off and throwing a fit,' he 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.

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?"

Chapter 3 The Dame Who Bites Back Alexei Turner was in a foul mood, storming out of the Turner family's grand mansion. Halfway home, he bailed on his ride, leashed up his dog, and figured a walk might shake off the bad vibes.

Big mistake. Or maybe the best one he'd made all night.

He stumbled right into a scene straight out of a gritty movie. A stunning, broken-looking girl—like a rose that'd been stepped on but was still fighting—stood cornered by a pack of lowlife creeps.

She was delicate, sure, but the fierce, do-or-die spark in her eyes? It hit him hard. Reminded him of a scrawny wolf pup he'd survived with in the mountains when he was ten.

All growl, all claws, defending its patch of dirt like it was a kingdom. Fragile, but burning with stubborn life.

That wolf ended up dead by his hand.

This girl, though? She was the same, flashing her thorns, ready to draw blood from anyone who came too close.

When she snapped a guy's arm with that cold, untouchable vibe, it was like nothing could faze her.

Alexei, usually as warm as a glacier, watched with a flicker of interest. Then, for reasons he couldn't quite pin down, he waded into the mess.

Up close, the girl was a knockout—face one'd remember in their dreams. But those big, clear eyes? They hit like a sucker punch, glittering like they held every star in the sky.

When she shot him a shocked look, he felt it in his gut.

His fingers twitched, itching to shield those piercing eyes staring right through him.

'Screw it,' he thought. 'If I am in, I am all in.'

Plus, he could use a good brawl to burn off some steam.

The thugs' screams came fast and loud. If they were just sore before, now their bones were ground to dust.

They were kicking themselves now. They'd been paid to spook her, nothing too heavy—boss's orders: no obvious marks.

But she was too gorgeous, and the idiots got greedy, thinking they could sneak a cheap thrill.

Huge mistake. The beauty was a viper, striking hard and fast. And this random guy who rolled up was like death himself. They had no doubt—if killing was fair game, their necks would've been snapped already.

This was a disaster. A total trainwreck. The head goon was sweating buckets.

Meanwhile, Alexei strolled back to Natasha, who was sprawled out, watching the chaos. He smirked, voice dripping with snark. "Quick hands, but you're too soft. Gotta yank the weeds out by the roots, or they'll just creep back. So, princess, what's my reward for saving your ass?"

Natasha, who could've handled it herself and now owed this guy, just stared.

Alexei frowned. 'She's a mess.'

He reached to yank her to her feet, but—bam—he got shoved forward, crashing right into her.

His body hit something soft, his hand grazing her injured arm, and his other hand… well, it landed somewhere even softer.

Way too soft. New territory. Alexei, caught off guard, gave it a quick, dumb squeeze.

And then, he locked eyes with Natasha, her gaze wide and stunned, staring right back at him.

The real troublemaker? His dog, dragged out for a walk and then ignored, now sat off to the side, blinking like a kid caught stealing cookies.

Natasha, squashed under his weight, sucked in a sharp breath.

Pain shot through her arm, and this guy—hot or not—was still parked on her chest. Her cool mask cracked, turning feral.

Her first words to him all nigh. "Nobody ever tell you?"

"What?" Alexei blinked.

"Don't poke your nose in street fights."

Before he could blink, her slim arms yanked his neck down, and crack—her forehead slammed into his like a wrecking ball.

"Officer! Help!" she hollered, voice cutting through the night. Sirens wailed as police barreled toward them.

Alexei, played like a chump, laughed low. "This how you thank your hero?"

He flopped into her old spot, voice dripping with mockery.

Natasha stood, dusting off, her face half-hidden in the dark but smirking. "Yup. 'Cause I'm the girl who screws over her savior."

****

The untouchable Turner family heir, king of the city, got hauled into a holding cell at midnight.

When Shawn Carter rushed in with a lawyer, he couldn't stop sneaking glances at the woman who'd sparked a rare flicker of kindness in Alexei—and then pinned him as a creep.

She was a rare kind of gorgeous. And ballsy as hell.

After sorting the thugs, Shawn braced for a kill order, expecting her to vanish.

Instead, he got,"Dig up everything on her."

"Who?" Shawn blurted, too stunned to think straight.

Alexei, who hadn't cared about a woman in years, was interested? That was next-level nuts.

Alexei shot him a look.

Shawn snapped, "Yes, sir!"

Watching her strut off, throwing one last death glare at Alexei, Shawn felt a pang of pity. 'She's done.'

This was the look of Alexei about to dig up her whole life—and probably her entire family tree.

****

Natasha had no idea who she'd crossed the night before, but as the first light of dawn crept in, her phone kept buzzing like crazy, dragging her back to the Clark family's house.

The moment she stepped through the door, her dad, Andrew Clark, laid into her with a slap that stung like hell.

"You're a damn embarrassment to this family!" he bellowed.

Caught off guard, she felt her pale cheek bloom red and swollen in a heartbeat.

The sharp crack of the slap made everyone in the room jump.

Lucas clenched his jaw, a pang of sympathy flashing in his eyes, but he held back from rushing to her side.

Natasha had messed up this time, no question. If she didn't pull herself together, she'd only dig a deeper hole.

Still, Lucas couldn't shake the feeling that Robert had gone overboard.

Her mom, Madeline, her big brother Thomas, and little brother Noel all shot her the same pissed-off glare. Meanwhile, Olivia, lounging on the couch, let a sly smirk slip through.

Last night's plan had crashed and burned—those idiots Olivia hired botched it and got tossed in jail. She'd been pissed, but she'd played it slick, covering her tracks. The goons stuck to their story: saw a cute girl, got handsy, no harm done. Natasha could suspect whatever, but there was no proof.

Today, leaving the hospital, Olivia set the perfect trap, and the Clarks ate it up.

After disappearing all night following a failed proposal, no one asked where Natasha had been or checked her bruises. Instead, her dad's welcome was a slap to the face.

'Some family,' she thought, her chest tight with resentment.

Natasha didn't bother arguing. She marched three steps to Olivia, who was lounging like she was watching a reality show, and slapped her hard across the face.

If she couldn't hit her dad back, she'd sure as hell let their precious Olivia have it.

The move came out of nowhere, and the room went dead quiet, too shocked to react.

Even Madeline, who'd felt a pang of guilt over Natasha's hit, shot up. "Natasha! What the hell's your problem?" she yelled.

Before anyone could move, Natasha delivered another sharp slap.

Now Olivia's cheeks matched—both glowing red.

Chapter 4 Throw Punches, Then Point Fingers Thomas, closest to the chaos, grabbed Natasha's arm and yanked her back hard to keep her from going full psycho.

Her waist slammed into the cabinet, right on yesterday's bruise. She let out a sharp hiss, but it got swallowed by everyone's gasps. Nobody gave a damn.

All eyes were glued to Olivia's face. Noel, her brother, shot Natasha a look that could kill before bolting for the first-aid kit.

Lucas and Madeline hovered around Olivia, fussing over her like she was fragile porcelain.

Olivia, still reeling from the slap, thought, 'That little punk actually hit me!'

Natasha had always been all talk, never throwing hands. In their family spats, Olivia always came out on top, cool and smug.

She'd never taken a hit like this.

'What is Natasha's deal today?' she wondered.

Fuming inside, Olivia played the wounded card. "Natasha, I know you can't stand me, but what'd I do this time?"

Andrew's eyes nearly bugged out. "Why the hell'd you smack your sister?"

Natasha smirked. "Why'd you smack me?

"Swing first, then point fingers. Didn't I learn that from you guys?"

Andrew flashed back to the slap he'd landed earlier but was still livid. "I hit you 'cause you paid some goon to ram your sister's car! You gonna play innocent? Is this what I raised you for? Hurting family, breaking laws, and not even sorry?"

"Paid someone?" Natasha's mind jumped to Olivia's crash last night. She let out a sharp laugh. "Where's the proof?"

Andrew jabbed a finger at her. "Proof? The driver who hit Olivia already spilled—you paid him. If Olivia wasn't so forgiving, you'd be in cuffs right now, you hear me?"

"So, just the driver's word. No real evidence." Natasha's voice cut like a knife.

Olivia jumped in, voice soft but calculated. "Natasha, I didn't know you hated me this much. If I'm the problem, I'll leave the Clark family, ditch town, vanish for good. Just stop messing up because of me. Stop fighting Mom and Dad. This house? It's yours."

Natasha snorted. "Real cute. If you wanted to bounce, you'd already be gone."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Andrew roared, practically shaking. "Olivia's only here because of you. You got some nerve trying to kick her out."

Natasha's lips clamped shut. The comeback she wanted to spit stayed stuck in her throat. Because, yeah, she had no defense.

Olivia's mom died because of her. That guilt was a rock crushing her for years, stealing her parents, her brother, her home, her future. She was the villain, so she deserved to eat dirt and pay.

Noel stormed back with the first-aid kit, glaring at his pale-faced sister. "If anyone's leaving, it's you, Natasha. Having a sister this toxic is straight-up embarrassing. You were always shady, but now you're out here committing crimes."

Thomas, frowning, added, "Natasha, apologize to Olivia."

Natasha took a deep breath. "I'm not owning up to something I didn't do."

Andrew raised his hand to swing again, but she dodged quick.

She turned to Madeline and Lucas, who'd been silent. "You think I did it too, huh?"

Nothing. She gave a bitter chuckle. "Figures."

She yanked out her phone, dialed a number she knew by heart, and said, "If I'm guilty, let the cops figure it out, not you guys pinning BS on me with no proof. I'm not taking that fall."

The Clark family froze, jaws on the floor. She actually called the cops.

Andrew flopped onto the couch, huffing like he'd just run a marathon. Olivia, icing her face, let a flicker of panic slip across her eyes.

"Family drama stays in the family," Andrew snapped. "Your sister was big enough to let it slide, but you wanna make a scene? Fine. Clean up your own mess."

Thomas paused, then added, "If they nail you, we are not bailing you out. Hope you're ready."

Even now, they didn't think they'd wronged her. They just figured she was cocky, calling the cops because she thought they'd find nothing.

What a piece of work.

The room shared a vibe: if they couldn't straighten Natasha out, maybe the police would.

Lucas stepped up, grabbing her wrist. "Say sorry to Olivia. If she drops it, this all blows over."

Noel piled on. "Yeah, you just slapped her for no reason. Apologize already."

Natasha's laugh dripped with sarcasm. "Those slaps? One was for Dad hitting me over her. The other was for her sending thugs after me yesterday. I've got my reasons, clear as day. Why should I grovel?"

Madeline's eyes screamed disappointment. "First, you're tied to the car crash driver, now you're accusing Olivia of hiring goons? Natasha, you owe her. She lost her mom because of you.

"You don't have to worship her, but don't stab her in the back. You've been screwing up for years."

No one asked about Natasha's night. No one cared if she was hurt.

People with their minds set? Good luck changing them.

Natasha's smile was cold as ice. "Yup, that's me. Total dirtbag. Took you a decade to see it, huh?"

As she started going at it with her parents again, Lucas cut in. "Natasha, if this is about me, I swear—there's nothing between me and Olivia. Don't torch your future over this. Just say sorry, and we're good."

They all figured Natasha pulled the driver stunt because she got the wrong idea about Lucas and Olivia, thinking Olivia was in their way.

Lucas and Natasha grew up together, dated for three years, but their engagement kept getting delayed—partly because of Olivia, though not how Natasha thought.

To them, the old Natasha was all sweetness and innocence. They just couldn't wrap their heads around why she didn't see it that way anymore—or why she kept getting into it with her sister over every little thing.

Natasha looked at her so-called boyfriend, the guy who used to shield her from everything. Now, she'd lost count of how many times he'd taken Olivia's side.

"No way," she said, firm as steel. "If I take the rap for hiring a hitman, my life's done."

And just like that, a day after walking out of the police station, Natasha dragged the whole Clark family back in, stirring up a storm like nobody's business.

Chapter 5 Dirty Hearts, Dirty Looks The day shift brought a new crew of cops to the station.

When they heard the 911 caller was also the prime suspect, their brains froze, like they missed their morning coffee.

Usually, anyone bold enough to waltz into a precinct to clear their name is either a slick crook with connections or actually innocent.

One look at Natasha's cool, steady face, and the cops bet on the latter.

Still, the victim's family was dead set, so the cops had to play along and dig in.

Then the kicker: the victim and suspect were sisters. Olivia, the adopted daughter, was being pampered like a princess, while Natasha, the real daughter, stood alone, demanding a chance to prove herself.

The female officer taking notes untangled the family drama and shot a look that said, "What the hell?"

The Clark brothers—one stone-cold, the other losing his cool—treated Natasha like public enemy number one.

As questioning rolled on, the supposed motive came up: Natasha was allegedly jealous of Olivia since they were kids, thinking she stole her boyfriend.

The officer glanced at the guy fussing over the pale, coughing Olivia—handing her meds, water, a blanket, the whole deal—and threw him a look that could sour milk.

'Really, dude?' she thought. 'He is practically glued to her side. Do they need to catch them in the act to call it shady?'

Natasha stayed quiet, playing ball with the investigation, and the officer's heart went out to her.

When their eyes met, Natasha flashed a chill smile that hit like a spark.

'Damn,' the officer thought, 'this girl's too gorgeous to be a killer.' Then she eyed Olivia and nearly rolled her eyes. 'Rich people drama, straight out of a reality show.'

Feelings couldn't sway the case, though.

The officer grabbed Natasha a hot cocoa and a chocolate bar from her stash.

She'd seen the family's maid skip Natasha's breakfast like it was nothing. The favoritism was loud and clear.

Olivia's injuries were minor, and she wanted to settle things quietly, but hiring someone to hurt her was a big deal. The station wasn't slacking.

Cracking the case was simple: track down the hit-and-run driver and make him spill.

Turned out, he was paid off—not by Natasha, but by Alice N, an old high school classmate of both sisters.

Alice and Olivia danced at the same company, always scrapping for the lead role.

Alice admitted she wanted to sideline Olivia with a small injury to steal her spot.

Knowing the sisters' bad blood—and still pissed about Natasha bullying her back in the day—she framed Natasha to kill two birds with one stone.

She figured Olivia would let it slide for Natasha's sake, and the blame would stick. But Natasha wasn't about to take the fall.

Alice's dance career was kaput, but since Olivia's injuries were light and she felt bad for the driver, she pushed for a deal. Neither he nor Alice got hit hard. Alice stayed cool about it.

Dancing was just a paycheck for her modest background, and whatever she got out of this was enough to keep her quiet.

As she passed Natasha, Alice shot her a smug look. 'Cleared your name, huh? But Olivia's still winning.'

With a bitter smirk, she thought, 'Natasha's got all the money, but she's just as screwed as me.'

The truth left the Clark family squirming.

Andrew, still stinging from the slap he'd given Natasha that morning, felt a twinge of guilt but turned it into blame. "If you hadn't been such a bully back then, no one could've framed Olivia."

Natasha laughed, pure disbelief. "So, if Olivia trips, it's my fault for walking by? She's so fragile, why not put her in a bubble and pray to her daily?"

"What kinda nonsense is that? You're bad-mouthing your sister again!" Andrew raised his hand.

"Hey! No swinging in here!" the officer snapped.

Olivia coughed like she was on her last breath, and Madeline rushed over, glaring at her husband and kids. "Olivia's always been sick, and you drag her out at dawn for this crap. Natasha, when are you gonna grow up?"

Thomas piled on, face sour. "You knew it wasn't you. Why turn it into a circus and embarrass us?"

Noel smirked. "Maybe someone's just desperate for the spotlight."

Natasha didn't flinch, like she'd heard this a million times.

With a big eye-roll, she fired back, "Sure, I'm the drama queen, the big bad villain. But at least I'm human. Unlike you, with your pretty faces spitting lies, brains on vacation, eyes for decoration, and hearts so twisted they'd gross out a sewer."

"Pfft—" The cops stifled laughs. The real daughter was nearly locked up as a killer, and this family was still obsessed with their adopted darling.

Natasha had spunk, but the officer was done with the soap opera.

Stepping in with a grin, she said, "Ms. Clark, you're free to go. Get some rest. Ms. Sutton, we might need you for follow-ups since you're the victim."

Natasha was over it. She thanked the officer and strutted out.

Lucas started to follow, but Olivia wobbled dramatically, and he stopped to hold her up.

Madeline called after Natasha, "Where are you going? Your engagement party with Lucas is in a month. Come home."

They could handle the guests and food, but she'd need to try on her dress.

At the word "engagement," Olivia's eyes dropped, her grip tightening on Lucas.

Natasha spun around, her smile sharp. "Mrs. Clark, take a good look at who Lucas is holding. You really think throwing our engagement party is a good idea?"

Every eye locked on Lucas and Olivia, tangled up together. They looked good—too bad he was the fiancé, and she was the fiancee's sister.

Noel wasn't having it. "Dirty hearts see dirty things," he sneered. "Olivia's sick, and Lucas is just helping. Only a jealous type like you would make a big deal out of it."

Chapter 6 No Breakup, No Wedding Natasha snorted, "Yeah, right. In a room full of people, she's the only one weak enough to practically climb into my boyfriend's arms.

"Lucas is such a saint, huh? Never hugs anyone else, just his future sister-in-law. If they hopped into bed, you'd probably blame bad lighting. Honestly, my heart's had it—they're a match made in a dumpster."

"Natasha, you're way off," Lucas said, dropping Olivia's arm the second her eyes hit him. Her words, lumping him with Olivia, stung hard.

"Way off?" Natasha smirked, sharp and cold. "Lucas, ever count how many times you've fed me that line?"

Lucas fumbled for words. "There's a reason, alright? I can explain."

"Pass," she shot back.

Excuses didn't cut it. No matter his reasons, he kept picking Olivia's side, leaving Natasha high and dry.

"What about the engagement party?" Madeline cut in, trying to pivot.

"Engagement party?" Natasha's laugh was icy. "There wasn't even a real proposal. What engagement?"

"What's that mean?" Madeline gaped.

Lucas and the Clark family stared, but Olivia's eyes glinted with something sneaky.

"Need it clearer?" Natasha fixed Lucas with a cold stare. "I told you yesterday during that half-baked proposal—if you bailed, we were done. So, Lucas, we're over. I'm done."

"No way!" Lucas barked, his chest tightening like a vice. "I'm not letting this go!"

He'd been with her since she was three—twenty years. One botched proposal couldn't end it. She'd always said she'd marry him.

To him, they were endgame.

"Take it back," he said, jaw clenched. "You're just mad. You don't mean it."

Natasha ignored him, turning to Madeline. "I've said my piece. We're done. If you don't want a party with no bride, call it off."

"This is nonsense!" a voice roared. "The Wright-Clark wedding's been set for years. You think this is a game? You were dying to marry him, and now you're bailing? You can't just do whatever!"

Natasha's gaze was pure ice. "If you're so set on it, marry him yourself. Or…" Her eyes flicked to Olivia. "You've got another daughter, right?"

"Natasha!" Lucas's voice cracked, raw with hurt. "You know I love you."

"Whatever," she scoffed, unmoved. That line was dead to her.

"I'm done with this happy family sitcom," she said, tossing her hands up. "Catch ya later—or, better yet, never."

She spun and strutted out, not sparing a glance back.

"Natasha!" Lucas moved to chase, but Olivia grabbed his arm.

"It's my fault," she said, all soft and pitiful. "If I hadn't gotten hurt, this wouldn't be happening. She's just pissed, Lucas. Chasing her now's pointless. Let her chill, and we'll talk to her together. She's been crazy about you forever—canceling the engagement? Total bluff."

"Yeah, don't sweat it," Madeline said, patting Olivia's hand. "She'll come crawling back once she cools off. Twenty years chasing Lucas? She's not walking away."

Three years ago, Natasha planned a group sailing trip to clear her head. Olivia and her boyfriend came along. A storm hit, and Olivia's boyfriend died saving Lucas.

Olivia nearly drowned, waking up with memory issues, sometimes mistaking Lucas for her dead boyfriend.

Last night, Olivia's car accident triggered another episode, calling for her "boyfriend." Madeline called Lucas to calm her—right as he was proposing to Natasha.

Still, Madeline saw no issue. She'd make the same call again.

To Madeline, Natasha owed Olivia too much. 'It is just a proposal,' she thought. 'Why the fuss? So childish.'

Noel snorted. "Natasha's been glued to Lucas for twenty years. No way she's serious about ditching the wedding."

Lucas let their words hold him back, but a knot twisted in his gut.

They'd sworn never to throw "breakup" around lightly.

The past three years were rough, with Olivia's mix-ups sparking fights. Once, Lucas even had to kiss Olivia during one of her episodes, and Natasha was livid but only iced him out for a month. She never said they were done.

'Is this just her blowing off steam?' he wondered.

Maybe he should keep Olivia at arm's length. He hadn't checked in with her therapist this month—time to push for answers.

No matter what, Natasha was the only one he wanted to marry. Always had been.

While everyone else dismissed Natasha's words as a tantrum, Olivia watched her vanish, a sly spark in her eyes.

'If she's for real, awesome,' Olivia thought. 'If not, I'm cool with stirring the pot a bit.'

****

The Clark family was itching to get out of the police station when a rookie cop swaggered in, his words hitting like a curveball.

"Natasha? Wasn't she just here last night? Back for an encore already?" he said.

He'd worked the graveyard shift, sorting out some street brawl mess. Just swinging by the station for a quick errand, he spotted Natasha on her way out, his tone dripping with a playful jab.

"You know Natasha? She was here last night too?" Lucas cut in, eyebrows raised.

"That little troublemaker! What'd she get herself into now?" Andrew growled, his jaw tight.

Thomas piled on, scoffing. "What, is she moving into the station now? Still stuck in her rebel phase?"

In seconds, the family was ready to pin another screw-up on Natasha, sure she'd landed in trouble again.

Olivia, though, sensed something was off. Keeping it chill, she softened her voice to calm her dad. "Hey, Dad, hold off. We don't know the deal yet. Natasha's young—she gets a bit wild sometimes."

"Young? She's 23! If she had half your sense, I'd sleep better at night," Andrew shot back.

"Yo, time out!" The cop jumped in, fed up. "Who said she got nabbed for messing up? Your girl got jumped by some creeps last night and took a hit. Scared senseless, too.

"If some random guy hadn't stepped up, who knows what would've happened? You're her family—how're you totally in the dark?"

He muttered, just loud enough to burn, "Her arm's all bandaged up. That stranger who helped? Cares more than her own folks, apparently."

His words slapped the Clarks hard. They froze, suddenly recalling Natasha's pale face.

They'd been so caught up in their own drama, no one bothered to check on her.

Madeline's voice wavered. "She's hurt? Is it bad?"

No matter how much Natasha drove them nuts, she was their daughter, their own flesh and blood. 'If she wasn't so damn rebellious, would I even be this hard on her?' she thought, trying to justify herself.

Chapter 7 Talk About Bad Luck It wasn't too bad, honestly. The thugs got the worst of it.

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 nab those creeps, right?"

The cop nodded. "Locked up tight."

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.

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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Bang—

The door to the private room slammed open, hard enough to rattle the walls. A frantic figure rushed in, shouting, "Olivia's in trouble!"

That one line sucked the air out of the room. The place, decked out with flowers and streamers for a proposal, went from warm and celebratory to dead quiet in a heartbeat.

At the center of the crowd, Lucas Wright—the guy of the hour, down on one knee with a ring in his hand—spun around, stunned. "What the hell did you just say?"

Matthew Hill, the guy with the loud blue hair, rushed forward, his voice urgent. "Mrs. Clark called. Olivia's been in a car accident, she's at the hospital right now."

And just like that, chaos erupted. Everyone bolted for the door, tripping over each other to get out.

Even the groom-to-be just turned and left.

"Lucas—" A soft, almost dreamy voice called from behind.

The room froze. Everyone suddenly realized the other star of this show—the girl Lucas was proposing to—hadn't said a single word.

In the scramble, someone must've hit the light switch, because the bright room dimmed to a faint glow from some amber fairy lights.

I stood there, pushed to the corner, my face half in shadow. That stunning face of mine, always a head-turner, was weirdly calm. No emotion, no nothing.

"You didn't even wait for my answer," I said, voice steady.

He stopped dead in the doorway, like it just hit him he was about to bail on his almost-fiancée without a word.

He didn't answer me. Instead, he softened his tone, trying to smooth things over. "Natasha, I'm sorry, babe. I gotta get to the hospital. Just… head home, okay?"

"And if I say you can't go?" My voice didn't waver, but it had a bite. "You know I can't stand her, Lucas."

He sighed, clearly over it. "Natasha, come on. This isn't the time to act up."

"My answer? It's now or never." My words were cool, almost too cool.

For the first time, something flickered in his eyes—not guilt, not love, but confusion. Like he’d never seen me before.

But then he patted my head like I was some kid. "Be good, alright? Don't make a big deal outta this. Olivia could be in real danger. This isn't the time to throw a fit."

Same old song and dance.

I watched him walk out, step by step, just like I'd watched our bond fall apart over the years.

On the cluttered table, my phone lit up with a new message.

A short, smug text, oozing with victory: [You lost.]

I stared at the screen, then at the shattered petals on the floor.

Now or never.

Do I chase after him and beg for a second chance?

Do I stay and face the whispers that will paint me as the jealous villain?

Or do I walk out alone—and finally become the woman I was meant to be?