Rejected: A love story

Chapter 162: Get lost

As they entered the VIP room, the music played softly while the tinkling of the glasses made for a very soothing environment, quite a contrast from the unrest in Viktoria’s heart. He led her to a very comfortable sofa while Mateo continued standing by her side, and he sat down beside her.

"Would you like me to get you something to drink?" he asked gently.

She paused briefly, still wondering about the picture she saw and the fact that maybe there is some secret that Nathan is trying to keep from her. "Water would be great, thank you," she whispered.

Nathan nodded and then gestured to the waiter, who quickly came by and brought two drinks, one water, one champagne. "Your champagne, sir."

Mateo, who was sensitive to the atmosphere, pulled at Viktoria’s hand. "Mummy, I want to see the lights again," he said softly

Viktoria nodded gratefully for the diversion. "Sure, honey, let’s take a look," she said. Turning to Nathan, she apologized. "Pardon us, Mr. Keith."

Nathan stared into her eyes with intensity. "Please, just call me Nathan. And I would be honored if I could accompany you both."

Marcus grew increasingly nervous. He flicked the switch on his radio, sounding desperate. "Natasha, there’s an issue. It seems Nathan isn’t alone. There is a woman and child with him."

There was a pause, and for a moment, Marcus wondered if he’d made a mistake. But then Natasha’s voice came through, cold. "Who is she?"

Marcus swallowed hard. "I don’t know the kid... And Nathan’s acting weird around him."

Natasha’s voice dropped to a whisper. "Find out who she is. And get Nathan alone. We can’t afford any more complications."

Marcus nodded, even though he knew Natasha couldn’t see him. He took a deep breath and turned his attention back to the scene unfolding below. Nathan, Viktoria, and Mateo were stepping into the elevator, oblivious to the dange.

They got to the last floor of the building, and as soon as the doors opened, Nathan guided them to the private viewing deck. He made sure that Mateo had already become captivated by the view of the city below before he leaned on the railings.

"The picture," Nathan started, his voice strained. "The lady is Fiona. She was my girlfriend, and yes, there is a distinct similarity. That’s why I was completely taken aback by your appearance." He gazed outside the window. "She passed away two years ago in an automobile accident. I loved her with all my heart, but she was entangled with a person from my past."

His gaze returned to Viktoria. His face became stern. "That boy in the picture, Leo... he is not my kid. He is the boy that my high school girlfriend, Natasha, used as bait to catch me. She had an obsession with me ever since we were in high school, and when she found out that I am with Fiona, she made up some story about him being my son. That’s a bunch of lies, and it did plenty of damage."

Marcus stares at the screen. "Can’t get a view on her face. There’s too many shadows," Marcus said in the radio. "Natasha, close up on her. We need to know who the hell she is before Nathan gets too close."

Natasha doesn’t move. Her heart is hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. On her monitor, the woman tucks a stray hair behind her ear—a habit Natasha saw a thousand times before she ordered the hit.

"It’s her," Natasha whispers, her voice cracking. "It’s Fiona."

She feels sick. Two years ago, she paid a fortune to make that woman vanish. The car "accident," the forged death certificate, the secret transfer to a black-site facility in Russia—it was supposed to be foolproof. Fiona was meant to be a drugged-up ghost in a basement halfway across the world, her brain turned to mush by the "treatments" Natasha funded.

Natasha does not move; her heart is thumping inside her rib cage as though trying to escape. In front of her on the computer screen, the woman reaches out to push away a strand of hair from her face – something Natasha has seen her do hundreds of times before paying someone to take care of her.

"It’s her." Natasha speaks in a broken whisper. "It’s Fiona."

She feels nauseated because two years ago, she spent an astronomical amount of money ensuring that woman disappeared. The "accident," the fake death certificate, and the covert transfer to one of the black sites in Russia were supposed to ensure that she was gone forever, a brain-dead zombie in a dark basement halfway across the globe.

"Natasha? Talk to me," Marcus snaps. "Who is she?"

"She’s a dead woman," Natasha hisses, grabbing her clutch and heading for the elevator.

Her mind is racing. If Fiona is here, using the name Viktoria, did the memory wipe fail? Or is she playing a long game, waiting for the perfect moment to tear Natasha’s life apart? And the boy—the kid with Nathan’s eyes—is the ultimate evidence of the life Natasha tried to steal.

The elevator dings. Natasha steps out, smoothing her dress, her face a mask of cold perfection. She walks toward the balcony where Nathan is leaning close to the woman, his voice a low murmur of grief.

"I feel like I’m seeing a ghost," Nathan says, his hand hovering near Viktoria’s arm.

"She’s a dead woman," Natasha snaps as she reaches for her clutch and makes for the elevator.

She doesn’t know whether Fiona was actually here, posing under the name of Viktoria, because the memory wipe failed, or if she was simply waiting for the right time to destroy Natasha’s life. And the boy—the kid who looks so much like Nathan—is the most convincing proof of her stolen life.

The bell of the elevator rings, and Natasha steps out, straightening her dress and putting on her best poker face. She moves towards the terrace where Nathan is whispering something to the woman standing beside him, his words laced with sorrow.

"I feel like I’m talking to a ghost," Nathan whispers.

"Nathan?" Natasha calls out, her tone dripping with fake warmth. "I didn’t think you’d be here tonight. And you brought... company."

Viktoria turns. As her eyes lock onto Natasha’s, a sudden, jagged pain stabs through her skull.

Viktoria’s eyes rolled back. The sharp, metallic scent of an old nightmare flooded her senses, and the ground simply gave way. Before she could utter a word to the woman standing there, her knees buckled.

Viktoria!" Nathan stepped forward, holding her head before she hit the marble..

Mateo let out a sharp cry, grabbing onto Nathan’s leg. "Mummy! Wake up!"

Natasha took a step closer, her face a mask of false concern, though her eyes were hunting for any sign of recognition in the unconscious woman’s features. "Oh my god, Nathan, is she alright? Let me help—"

"Stay back, Natasha," Nathan snapped, his voice vibrating with a protective fury she hadn’t heard in years. He didn’t even look at her; his focus was entirely on the pale woman in his arms.

"Nathan, really, I can call my doctor—"

"I said get away!" He barked the order, silencing her. He scooped Viktoria up in one fluid motion, her head lolling against his shoulder. He looked down at the terrified boy. "Mateo, stay close to me. We’re going."

Nathan didn’t wait for an elevator attendant. He pushed past Natasha, his shoulder clipping hers as he navigated toward the exit with the boy trailing at his heels, clutching the hem of Nathan’s jacket.

Natasha stood frozen on the balcony, the wind whipping her hair across her face. She watched them disappear into the lobby, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

She pressed the comms button in her ear, her voice trembling with a mix of rage and terror. "Marcus. He’s taking her. Follow them. If she wakes up and starts talking, we’re dead. Do you hear me? Kill her if you have to, but don’t let her get to a hospital."

Nathan didn’t look back. He adjusted his grip on Viktoria’s limp body, her head resting heavy against his chest, and looked down at Mateo. The boy’s face was pale, his small hands white-knuckled as he held onto Nathan’s suit jacket.

"Stay with me, Mateo. Big steps," Nathan commanded, his voice tight but steady.

He didn’t wait for the VIP elevator. He kicked the service door open, bypassing the crowd. He could feel Natasha’s eyes burning into his back, but he didn’t care. Seeing Viktoria drop like that—the way her eyes had glazed over the second she looked at Natasha—it felt like a physical blow to his own gut.

"Nathan! Wait!" Natasha’s voice echoed down the hall, desperate and shrill.

"Get lost, Natasha!" he roared over his shoulder, the sound echoing off the marble walls.

He reached the basement garage in record time. His driver, seeing the boss carrying a woman and a terrified child, already had the door of the armored SUV swung wide. Nathan slid Viktoria onto the leather seat and pulled Mateo in beside her.

"Go. Now," Nathan snapped at the driver. "Hospital? No—take us to the estate. Call Dr. Aris. Tell him it’s an emergency."

As the SUV drove out of the garage, Nathan looked out the tinted rear window. He saw a black sedan peel out of a parking spot three levels up, its headlights cutting through the gloom.

"We’re being followed," the driver muttered, glancing at the rearview mirror.

Nathan looked at Viktoria. She was breathing, but her eyelids were flickering,

He grabbed her hand, his heart hammered. He didn’t know why Natasha had triggered this, but he knew one thing: he wasn’t letting her get close again.

"Lose them," Nathan ordered, his voice cold as ice. "I don’t care how you do it. Just lose them."

The SUV screeched around a tight corner, tires smoking as the driver cut through a narrow alley, narrowly missing a delivery truck. The black sedan behind them swerved to avoid the collision, trapped behind the larger vehicle. Nathan’s driver didn’t hesitate—he floored it, weaving through a series of side streets until the headlights in the rearview mirror finally vanished into the city traffic.

"We lost them, sir," the driver breathed, his knuckles white on the wheel.

Nathan didn’t answer. He was busy pulling a shaking Mateo into his lap with one arm while keeping his other hand firmly on Viktoria’s pulse. Her skin was clammy, and she was tossing her head back and forth against the leather seat, mumbling fragments of words that made Nathan’s blood run cold.

Nathan’s jaw tightened. Natasha. He had known she was obsessive, but the terror in Viktoria’s voice suggested something much darker than a jealous ex-girlfriend.

The heavy iron gates of the Keith estate swung open, and the SUV roared up the long, gravel driveway. Before the car had even fully stopped in front of the manor, the front doors flew open. Dr. Aris was already there, medical bag in hand, flanked by two of Nathan’s private security guards.

"Get her inside!" Nathan commanded, sliding out and lifting Viktoria back into his arms.

He ignored the staff and headed straight for the guest wing, Mateo running to keep up, tears finally streaming down the boy’s face. Nathan laid her on the bed, her pale face stark against the dark silk sheets.

"Mateo, come here," Nathan said, his voice softening as he reached for the boy. He sat him down in a large armchair by the window. "Stay right here. The doctor is going to help your mummy. I promise."

Dr. Aris moved in, checking her pupils and hooking up a portable monitor. "Her heart rate is through the roof, Nathan. This isn’t a simple faint. It looks like a massive neurological shock. Like her brain is fighting itself."

Nathan stood at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed, watching the woman who looked exactly like his dead lover struggle against an invisible memory.

"She saw Natasha," Nathan said, his voice a low growl. "And she fainted."