Natasha had no intention of setting foot back in that house, but Andrew’s call about her grandma’s ce pulled her in.


    Her childhood was a heavy, gray cloud, with one bright spot: her grandma.


    Everyone med Natasha for her aunt’s death, saying she owed Olivia everything, but her grandma never made her y second fiddle.


    “Kids don’t cause idents,” she’d insist, shielding Natasha from the guilt of a life lost. She’d say it loud, for all to hear.


    That little courtyard at her grandma’s was Natasha’s only escape, a ce to breathe free.


    The rk family’s guilt had twisted into favoritism for Olivia over the years, but her grandma loved Natasha harder for it.


    Maybe she saw the day Natasha would finally break from the rks, so she announced, in front of everyone, that the house would be Natasha’s.


    But her sudden passing left no will, and now the deed sat with Madeline. The n was to pass it to Natasha as part of her dowry once she got married.


    “Miss rk.” The maid at the door froze, caught off guard.


    Natasha was a rare sight–maybe once a year, tops.


    The maid started working for the rks after Natasha had already moved out. She’d pegged Olivia as the real daughter, just using her mom’sst name because her parents were so tight.


    First time Natasha showed up, the maid mistook her for some freeloading cousin, earning a sharp scolding from the butler.


    The rks barely mentioned their second daughter. Most parents would worry about a kid moving out so young, but they acted like it was nothing.


    The maid stole another nce at the “forgotten” daughter.


    Natasha was pure rk–more than Olivia. The rks were a good–looking bunch, and Natasha got the best of both parents.


    Without the rumors painting her as trouble, her beauty would’ve been the talk of the town.


    Olivia was pretty, but next to Natasha? A sparkler beside a firework. Good thing they rarely shared the spotlight.


    But with Natasha storming in like a hurricane, the maid sighed. Dinner was about to be a mess.


    8:17 pm


    *****


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    When Natasha walked in, Madeline jumped up. “Natasha! Come sit, we made your favorite- macaroni cheese.”


    Natasha nced at the table, her face t. “That’s Olivia’s thing. Not mine.”


    She was all about spicy food. Always had been. As a kid, Andrew and her brother Thomas would tease her with hot sauces,ughing when she’d gasp and fan her mouth, then fuss over her with milk or soda.


    Madeline would end up chewing them out. But when Olivia arrived–born early, fragile, needing special meals–the rk table went nd to cater to her.


    Madeline’s smile wavered, then bounced back. “No biggie. We’ve got plenty of food. If you’re not into it, I’ll have the kitchen whip up something else.”


    Natasha didn’t bite. She dropped into a chair and locked eyes with Andrew. “You said we’d talk about Grandma’s house. Let’s do it.”


    Andrew’s face tightened. “Can’t you rx ‘til after dinner? You’re acting like you’re here to collect <i>a </i>debt.”


    Natasha just pressed her lips together.


    “Hey, wrong seat,” Noel said, strolling in from gaming upstairs. “That’s Olivia’s spot.”


    The rk table had a setup: Madeline and Andrew on one side, the three kids on the other. Olivia always sat between Thomas and Noel–Natasha’s old spot, taken when she was six.


    “Didn’t know we startedbeling chairs,” Natasha shot back. “What if I wanna stay?”


    “It’s just a seat,” Olivia said, shing a quick smile to smooth things over. “Let her have it.”


    Noel red but backed off when he remembered the cops mentioning Natasha’s injury. He muttered something and sank into his chair.


    Olivia’s smile tightened, a flicker of annoyance in her eyes.


    With the family feeling guilty about Natasha, she wasn’t about to stir the


    pot.


    Thomas didn’t want to sweat the small stuff, but seeing Olivia at the table’s end, he spoke up. ‘Olivia, take my spot.”


    “No need, Madeline cut in, waving a maid over. “Grab a chair for Olivia, put it by me.”


    No one blinked when Natasha got stuck with the end seat. But Olivia? Suddenly it was a tragedy, and the whole family scrambled to fix it.


    8:17 pm


    Natasha’s lips curled into a faint smirk.


    EX 55 vouchers


    Noel caught it and shot her a smug look. That was enough. Natasha stood, marched over, and plopped into Thomas’s seat. “This one’s better.”


    Now it was Natasha, Thomas, Noel.


    Noel’s jaw dropped. “What’s your deal?”


    Natasha shrugged. “Just don’t wanna catch your stupid sitting too close.”


    “Natasha!” Noel snapped, half–rising.


    “Alright, chill, you two,” Madeline said, halfughing. “You’re not kids anymore.”


    Still, their bickering felt oddly familiar, and a smile tugged at her lips. “Natasha, how’s your injury? You okay? Maybe Dr. Richardson can swing by after dinner to check on you.”


    Jason Richardson was the family doc.


    Andrew softened. “Why not move back home for a bit? We can look out for you.”


    Thomas and Noel nodded along, Noel even looking kinda hopeful.


    They seemed so genuine, so worried. But Natasha knew the game.


    A p, then a sweet. Just enough warmth to keep her hooked, make it hard to walk away.<fn4166> ??? ????? ???????s ??? ?????s??? ?? FindN0vel</fn4166>


    Until she and Olivia shed again–then they’d turn on her, no question.


    It made this “family” moment feel cheap.


    Olivia nced at her, smile sweet, eyes sharp. “Yeah, Natasha, this is your home. We’re family. No bad bloodsts forever, right?”


    She hit the word “your” hard, and Natasha caught the dig.


    Natasha leaned back, smirking. “Speaking of bad blood, y’all forgetting something?”


    Noel blinked, lost. “Huh?”


    “That whole hired a hitman‘ thing you pinned on me,” she said, voice light but cutting. “Real nice usation. If I hadn’t pushed for the cops, I’d be stuck with ‘killer‘ on my name for life. Don’t I get a ‘sorry for that?”


    Sweeping it under the rug? Not her style.


    8:18 pm