Rejected: A love story

Chapter 176: Who are you

Nathan forced his hands to stop shaking. He looked at Viktoria. She was just watching the boy. She looked tired and worried and didn’t seem to notice Nathan’s face had gone white.

"He’s okay now," Nathan said. His voice was dry. "The fever is going down."

He stood up. His expensive pants were soaked and heavy. He didn’t care. He needed to get out of that bathroom.

"Keep him in the towel,"

"I’ll call Aris" Nathan said, not looking at her. He just walked out.

He went downstairs and found Alex by the front door. Alex looked at Nathan’s wet clothes but didn’t say anything. Nathan grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the basement stairs.

"Basement. Now," Nathan ordered.

They went down to the cold room with the laundry machines and Nathan leaned against the wall trying to calm his nerves.

"I need a DNA kit," Nathan said. "A fast one. Get it here by tomorrow morning. I don’t care how much it costs."

Alex looked confused. "A DNA kit? For the kid?"

"Yes," Nathan snapped. "And I want you to find out everything about Viktoria for the last two years, everything. Check the doctors, the cities, everything. I want to know who her husband is. I want to know when she was pregnant."

Alex stayed quiet for a second. "Sir, I thought you said it was against business ethics to investigate someone for personal reasons?"

Nathan’s fist tightened. He felt like he was going to explode. "Alex, don’t tempt me. Just do it."

"I’m sorry, sir. I’ll start now," Alex said.

"And Alex," Nathan called out. "Check the hospitals in Russia from, look for a woman who looked like her but had a different name. Look for any births."

"Okay," Alex said. He went back upstairs.

Nathan stayed in the dark basement. He felt sick. If that boy was his, then who was this woman? She looked like Fiona. She felt like Fiona when he kissed her. But Fiona died.

He went back upstairs. He pushed the bedroom door open a little bit. The room was dark and Viktoria was sitting on the floor by the bed. She had her head on the mattress and was holding Mateo’s hand. She was asleep.

Nathan walked over. He looked at Mateo’s face. Now that he knew about the mark, he could see Nathan’s own face in the boy. The nose was the same, even the chin was the same.

He looked at Viktoria, she looked so tired.

’Who are you?’ he thought.

#########

It was chilly inside and filled with the smell of rancid oil and wet concrete. Natasha sat down on the metal chair, lit a cigarette, and stared into nothingness. In front of her, Catherine Brown was walking back and forth. Catherine appeared as if she could erupt at any moment. Since she got the news that either Fiona or whatever woman she was now was back in the country, she seemed to be very nervous.

"Fiona can’t come back!" Catherine screamed, and her voice echoed against the high walls. "Dad will do better with her away from us. Things have stabilized. And now Dad listens to me for once! Once Fiona returns here, everything will change again."

Natasha blew out a puff of smoke. She didn’t like Catherine much, but they both hated the same person, and that made them friends for now. "Calm down, Catherine. You’re going to give yourself a headache."

"I don’t care about a headache!" Catherine snapped, turning to face her. "You don’t understand. Fiona was always the golden child. The perfect daughter. Even after two years of her being gone, my father still keeps her pictures in his old office. It’s like he’s waiting for a ghost to walk through the door."

A man named Marcus walked out from a small side office. He was big and didn’t talk much, but he was the one Natasha trusted to handle the dirty work. He was cleaning a small knife with a rag.

"Don’t worry, Catherine," Marcus said, his voice deep and rough. "I’m on it. We’ll send her back to that god-damned Russia she came from. She won’t be staying here long enough to see her father."

Natasha let out a cold, nasty laugh. She bent forward slightly, "No, of course not! She went and married some Russian fellow right after arriving in Russia. Such a slut that she is, she opened her legs right up to whoever her husband was. The child is Russian and has no relation with the Keith’s at all."

A feeling of happiness washed over Catherine, only to be replaced by one of disgust. "That girl gave birth to some random Russian guy’s child? Jesus, what an embarrassment she is! How does Nathan even love her?"

"Nathan is a fool," Natasha said, flicking her cigarette ash onto the floor. "He sees a face that looks like the woman he lost and he loses his mind. He thinks he’s being a hero. He doesn’t realize he’s protecting another man’s brat."

"It makes me sick," Catherine muttered. She sat down on a crate, her expensive dress getting dusty. "I spent my whole life being compared to her. ’Why can’t you be more like Fiona? Why can’t you study like Fiona?’ And then she disappears, and I finally get my life back. I won’t let her take it again."

"She won’t," Marcus said, stepping closer. "The plan is already moving. We know where they are hiding. That villa in the woods is a cage, not a fortress. Nathan thinks he’s hidden, but he’s just trapped."

Catherine looked up. "What are you going to do to her?"

Natasha smiled. It wasn’t a nice look. "We’re going to make sure she realizes she doesn’t belong here. We’ll break the connection between her and Nathan. Once he realizes she’s just a fraud with a Russian kid, he’ll throw her out himself. And if he doesn’t..." She looked at Marcus.

"Then I’ll handle it my way," Marcus finished.

"I want her to crawl back," Catherine said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I want her to go back to Russia and never show her face again. I want my father to forget she ever existed. He needs to know she moved on, got married, and forgot all about us."

"He’ll know," Natasha promised. "By the time we’re done, Fiona...or Viktoria, or whatever she calls herself will be a memory that everyone wants to forget. Even Nathan."

Catherine stood up. She felt a bit better now, knowing that Marcus and Natasha had everything under control. She hated Fiona so much it felt like a physical weight in her chest. She remembered all the times Fiona had been kind to her, and it only made the hatred hotter. She didn’t want kindness from her stepsister; she wanted her gone.

"Keep me updated," Catherine said as she walked toward the warehouse exit. "I want to know the second she’s on a plane or in the ground."

"You’ll be the first to know," Natasha said, watching her leave.

Once the heavy door closed behind Catherine, Marcus looked at Natasha. "She’s a brat."

"She’s a useful brat," Natasha replied, lighting another cigarette. "She gives us the inside information on the Brown family. As long as she hates Fiona, she’s on our side."

"And the boy?" Marcus asked.

Natasha’s eyes went cold. "The boy is a problem. He’s the anchor that keeps her tied to her new life. If we want her to leave, we have to make sure that anchor is gone."

Marcus stepped closer, his voice dropping into a low, rough growl. "And the boy? You really going to let that anchor hold you back? Or are you just deprived?"

Natasha blew a thin stream of smoke into the air, her eyes turning icy. She looked him up and down with bored disdain. "If I was so deprived of sex, Marcus, I have a sex pet for that. You’re here to work, not to audition."

Marcus let out a dry, taunting laugh. He didn’t back down. "A sex pet? Does it even have a real dick? Come on... we’re the only ones here."

He didn’t wait for her to snap back. He dropped the rag he was holding and sank to his knees on the dirty concrete between her legs. Natasha’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening around her cigarette, but she didn’t push him away. She stared into nothingness as he leaned forward, his intent clear.

Natasha leaned her head back against the cold metal of the chair, her eyes fluttering shut as Marcus’s tongue moved against her. The contrast between the freezing warehouse air and the heat of his mouth was sharp, grounding her in a way she hadn’t felt in weeks. She didn’t offer a sound of encouragement, but her fingers drifted to his hair, pulling him closer as she gave in to the sensation.

"Enough," she breathed out, her voice barely a whisper.

Marcus didn’t need to be told twice. He stood up, his breathing heavy, and hoisted her out of the chair. He didn’t care about the dust or the rancid smell of the room. He pushed her back against the cold brick wall, his large hands sliding up her thighs to hike up her dress.

"Still think that pet of yours is better?" Marcus grunted, his voice thick with a dark triumph.

Natasha didn’t answer. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him in. She needed to feel something other than the cold hatred she’d been carrying for Fiona. When he pushed into her, she let out a sharp gasp, her nails digging into his shoulders.

He fucked her with a rough, desperate energy, his body slamming against hers in the dim light of the warehouse. There was no tenderness in it, just a raw, physical release that they both needed. Natasha gripped him tighter, her head thumping against the brick with every stride he took, her eyes locked on the high, dark ceiling. For a moment, the plans, the Browns, and the boy in the villa didn’t exist—there was only the heat and the friction.

When it was over, Marcus didn’t pull away immediately. He leaned his forehead against hers, both of them breathing hard in the silence.

"You’re mine now, Natasha," he murmured, his voice possessive.

Natasha pushed him back, her expression quickly returning to its usual icy mask as she straightened her dress. She picked up her fallen cigarette and lit another one, the smoke curling around her face.

"Don’t get ahead of yourself, Marcus," she said, her voice steady again. "You’re a tool. Nothing more. Now, go back to the villa. I want that boy dealt with by tomorrow."

Marcus watched her for a second, a dark smirk playing on his lips. He picked up his knife from the table and tucked it into his belt. "As you wish."