Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Natasha
I cried all night until my eyes burned dry and raw. I rubbed them and kept packing my bags.
Dante never showed up. I couldn't imagine what happened behind that closed office door last night. But I didn't need to imagine anymore—the answer lay brutally before me.
None of it mattered now. I just wanted to leave, take my baby, and get the hell out of this city full of lies and betrayal.
Soft footsteps approached, followed by two hesitant knocks.
"Ma'am," Anya's voice came through the heavy walnut door, worried and pleading, "I brought you some oatmeal and warm milk. You haven't eaten since last night. Please, just a little."
I didn't stop folding clothes.
"Anya, I'm not hungry. Take it back down. I want to be alone."
"But ma'am, you've been like this all day and—ah!"
Before Anya could finish, sharp heels clicked rapidly down the hall. Something hit the floor. Anya screamed.
What the hell? Was Anya hurt? I jumped up and yanked the door open.
Anya sat crumpled against the wall, clutching her right shoulder, face twisted in pain. Standing over her was Vera in a skin-tight crimson coat and four-inch stilettos.
Vera crossed her arms, chin raised high, pale blue eyes gleaming with malicious pleasure. Her gaze cut past me to the open black suitcase behind me.
"What's this?" Vera's mouth curved up. She strutted into the room. "Packing? Ready to crawl away with your tail between your legs?"
I ignored her taunts and tried to get past her to check on Anya.
Vera sidestepped, shoulder blocking the doorframe. She leaned in close. That familiar perfume hit my nose.
"Finally figured out where you stand, didn't you, Natasha?" Vera stared at my face, hunting for cracks. "Did you cry under the covers all night? You actually thought putting on my wedding dress made you my replacement? You lost to me again. Completely."
I looked at that face inches from mine, at the sick obsession burning in her eyes. But I felt no sadness. No hurt. My pain had drained away with last night's tears. Now my soul was just empty.
"Yeah. I'm leaving." I stepped back, putting distance between us. "Thanks to you. Last night—you made sure I'd see, didn't you?"
"Of course." Vera turned, voice dripping with pride. "Whatever pathetic agreement you had, whatever fake promises he gave you, he stayed with me in the end. I left that door cracked open just for you. I wanted you to see exactly who he belongs to."
"Now I know." I pointed toward the door. "I'm leaving. You didn't waste your trip. Enjoy your victory. You can have him. Congratulations."
Vera's smile froze. She narrowed her eyes, studying me suspiciously.
"You really don't want him anymore?" She sneered, then strode toward the corner.
I followed her movement. My easel stood there.
The painting I'd planned to give Dante for his birthday sat on it.
Vera stopped in front of the easel and pulled a silver blade from her coat pocket. She raised it, aiming at the center of the canvas—Dante's face.
"Since you don't want him anymore," Vera's voice dripped with vicious pleasure, "this painting's worthless to you too, right? I'm going to shred it. Turn it into garbage. You won't mind, will you?"
She flicked her wrist. The blade pierced the canvas with a ripping sound. The thick oil painting tore down the middle. She kept cutting, slash after slash, destroying Dante's face, his body, the entire piece.
Scraps fell to the floor, colorful paint fragments scattering everywhere.
I looked up and met Vera's eyes.
"You're right." I walked to the easel, reached out, and ripped the ruined canvas completely off the frame. I dropped it at Vera's feet. "This thing is garbage. Just like the man in it. I'm glad you're taking them both."
"Stop pretending!" Vera looked furious, like my attitude enraged her. She threw the knife down and jabbed her finger at my nose. "You're the one who got dumped. Don't act so high and mighty. You think pretending not to care means you beat me?"
I watched her lose control and felt something strange. Vera's need to win was beyond comprehension. Like she didn't want Dante's love—she just wanted the thrill of beating me.
Vera kept shrieking and advanced on me. I raised my left arm defensively. When she tried to shove me, I pushed her shoulder first.
In those stilettos, Vera had no balance. My push sent her stumbling backward several steps. Her lower back slammed into the vanity edge. Perfume bottles crashed to the floor, glass shattering loudly.
"You bitch, how dare you fight back?" Vera completely snapped. She steadied herself and lunged at me, claws out.
She grabbed my hair and yanked it down hard. Pain shot through my scalp. I bent over. Vera looked triumphant, gripping my hair with one hand while raising the other to slap me.
The bedroom door exploded inward.
"Who the hell is making a scene here?"
Leo burst in wearing his uniform. He took in the chaos—broken glass, torn canvas scraps, Vera and me tangled together—and froze for a split second.
Then he stepped between us, his broad back shielding me completely. He stretched out his arm and physically blocked Vera.
"Miss Kornilov." Leo's muscles tensed, voice cold and professional. "Back up. Now. You have no right to assault Mrs. Romanov."
Vera stopped, chest heaving, glaring at Leo.
"Mrs. Romanov?" Vera laughed shrilly and jabbed her finger at Leo's nose. "You're nothing but a hired watchdog, and you think you can lecture me?"
She jabbed a finger toward her own chest. "Open your eyes and take a good look at who you're talking to. This house is about to have a new mistress, and that's going to be me."
Her voice rose sharply. "Now get out of my way. That's an order."
"My job is protecting the Manor and Mrs. Romanov's safety." Leo didn't budge. "You're not welcome here. Leave now. Or I'll use force."
"Force?"
Vera hissed the word. Then, without warning, she swung.
A vicious slap landed squarely on Leo's left cheek.
The sharp sound echoed through the massive bedroom. Leo's head snapped to the side. Four red finger marks bloomed instantly on his face.
A hard slap cracked across Leo's left cheek.
The sharp sound echoed through the spacious bedroom. His head snapped to the side from the force of the blow, and four vivid red finger marks instantly appeared on his cheek.
"You brainless idiot!" Vera spat venomously. "I'm the lady of this house!"
She took a step forward, her eyes blazing with fury. "When Dante gets back, I won't just have him fire you. I'll have him break both your legs and dump you in the Hudson River!"
She pointed toward the door. "Now get out!"
I stood behind Leo, watching him endure this humiliation to protect me. Something in my brain snapped.
In that moment, years of anger, hurt, and resentment crashed over me all at once.
For twenty years, she'd taken and taken. She stole what was mine, destroyed my painting, pushed me into a marriage she'd refused for herself, and now she was trampling over the only person who had ever stood up for me.
I grabbed Leo's arm and yanked him aside with all my strength.
Before Vera could react, I charged forward. I pivoted from my waist, swung my arm in a full arc, putting all my weight and fury into my palm.
I slapped Vera across the left side of her face.
The impact sent fire through my hand. The force knocked Vera off balance. Her stiletto slipped on the floor. Her ankle twisted with a sick crack.
Vera let out a piercing scream and crashed to the hardwood.
The room went silent. Leo stared at me in shock.
I gasped for breath, chest heaving, finally feeling a release from days of suffocation. I stepped forward and looked down at Vera writhing on the floor, clutching her face.
"You've always had everything better than me," I stared into her eyes. "You're prettier, Father liked you more, you're better at manipulating men."
I crouched down and grabbed her collar.
"But I'm definitely stronger than you! Come on, bitch. Let's see how you're gonna fight back now."
Vera looked at me in terror, then frantically clawed at my face. "You slapped me! How dare you!"
Of course I dared. And I was about to do it again.
I bent my knee and stepped on her skirt, pinning her waist between my legs. I grabbed a fistful of her carefully styled blonde curls with my left hand and slammed the back of her head toward the floor.
Vera squeezed her eyes shut and let out a muffled scream. I raised my right fist and aimed it at her face.
Just as my fist was about to come down—
"STOP!"
A roar filled with terrifying authority exploded from the doorway.
My raised fist froze mid-air. I slowly turned my head and looked past Leo's shoulder toward the door.
Dante Romanov stood there. His gaze locked on my raised fist and Vera pinned beneath me.
I stayed straddling Vera. No flinching. No fear. I met Dante's ice-cold stare head-on.