Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Hailey
The restroom stayed dead quiet. Just the tap—left a little loose—dripping, drip after drip, like it kept hammering on my nerves.
I stared at my phone until my eyes burned. No texts. No missed calls. That pinned number looked like a wasteland, burying every last bit of my hope and pride.
My phone vibrated once. I snatched it up like I'd been shocked, heart slamming—only to see a system email notification.
"Your workstation has been reassigned to Administrative Logistics Area F14."
F14. The spot by the trash can and the shredder.
I shut my eyes and pulled in a long breath, forcing the sting back down my throat.
No. I didn't get to sit here and take it. I don't get to curl up like some beggar who's been tossed a bone and kicked to the curb. If Viktor actually gave a damn—if last night and the roses this morning weren't some sick dream—he wouldn't let that woman humiliate me like this.
I needed answers.
If he wouldn't text back, I'd go to him.
I splashed cold water on my face, took one more breath, and pushed out of the restroom, heading straight for the executive elevators.
I didn't go anywhere near my "new" desk. I hit the button for the underground VIP garage.
Viktor was out of town, but I knew the second he left New York, his shadow of an assistant, Yuri, usually came back to the headquarters building to deal with security.
Finding Yuri was the only way I could get to Viktor right now.
The garage stayed dim, thick with gasoline and hot rubber.
I waited near the reserved spots in Zone A for almost an hour before a black Cadillac SUV finally rolled in and stopped clean in the Ivanov Group's assigned space.
The door opened. Yuri stepped out in a black suit, face blank as stone.
"Yuri!" I rushed him without thinking and cut off his path.
His hawk-sharp eyes flicked over me. His brow tightened, barely. "Miss Woods, this is an executive-only area. You're not supposed to be here. Go back to your workstation."
"Take me to Viktor. Or give me a number that reaches him right now." I lifted my chin and locked on him. "I know he's traveling. I still need to speak to him. Now."
"Boss's schedule is classified. I can't disclose it, and I can't connect you to a private line." Yuri's voice stayed ice-cold. "If you have work matters, you report to your direct supervisor."
"This isn't about work!" My voice rose. My nails bit into my palm. "Yuri, I just need five minutes. Five."
"Miss Woods. Last warning. Move." Yuri's scarred face didn't soften. His hand slid toward the shape of his gun at his waist—silent, heavy pressure.
I stared into his dead eyes and understood it all at once: in this layered, locked-down empire, if Viktor didn't hand me special access, I wasn't even dust to them.
But I refused to swallow it.
Why the hell should I? Why should my feelings get ground into the floor?
I didn't back up. I went around Yuri, yanked open the SUV's rear door, and started to climb in.
"If you won't call him, I'll sit right here and wait. Unless you shoot me or drag me out of the car, I'm not—"
My voice cut off.
The second the door opened, a wave of insanely expensive Russian rose perfume hit me, drowning out the garage stink in one breath.
A woman sat in the back.
She wore a deep burgundy silk trench, legs crossed like she owned the city, champagne in hand—bubbles still climbing. Long golden waves fell perfectly over her shoulders. Her face was stunning, cruelly so, and her smile looked down at me like I was something funny on her shoe.
Natalia.
My whole body locked up. My brain just... froze.
"Let her in, Yuri." Natalia lifted one brow, red lips parting. Her voice carried that lazy, entitled drawl of a woman who never asked permission. "Since Miss Woods is so desperate for the 'truth,' I figure I'll talk to her."
Yuri hesitated two seconds, then let go of his gun and stepped back, gesturing me in.
I swallowed hard. My heart felt like an invisible fist had it in a chokehold.
But I'd gone too far to turn around. I clenched my jaw and slid into the car.
The door slammed behind me, cutting off the outside world. The air inside felt thinner under that aggressive perfume, like it pushed all the oxygen out.
"What do you want to talk about?" I forced myself to meet her eyes, trying to keep the shake out of my voice. "If you came to gloat about stealing my office, congrats. Mission accomplished."
"My God. An office?" Natalia laughed under her breath, pure contempt. "Honey, your world is tiny."
She set the champagne down, reached into a Hermès Birkin beside her, pulled out a manila envelope, and tossed it onto the leather seat in front of me.
"Look. This is what we're talking about."
I hesitated, then opened it.
A stack of photos slid out onto my lap.
The second I saw them, my lungs forgot how to work.
Us holding hands in the dark tunnel at the aquarium. Us in the new apartment—him pinning me to the bookcase, kissing me like he meant it. Even this morning, a shot of me taking the red roses.
Every private, sweet moment—every little piece of "us"—had been captured by some camera hiding in the shadows. In those cold, stolen images, all our warmth looked filthy. Like a cheap deal done in the dark.
"You... you followed us?" I snapped my head up. My voice shook with shock and anger.
"Don't use ugly words, sweetheart. It's 'due diligence.'" Natalia toyed with her perfect nails like I bored her. "Do you seriously think a man like Viktor Ivanov could pick up some girl off the street and take her home without the family vetting you?"
She leaned in a little. Those blue eyes fixed on me like a snake.
"Do you think he took you to stare at some fish, bought you a couple dresses, even lowered himself to help you move a few boxes—so that means you are his 'one and only'?
" The mockery on her face thickened. "Hailey, you're adorable.
You have no idea what families like ours are. You think this is playtime."
I crushed the photos in my fist until my knuckles went white. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying all that 'special treatment' you love so much?
It was him killing time." Natalia sighed, slipping into fake sadness that sounded like bragging.
"Maybe you don't know. Viktor and I grew up together in Moscow.
We loved each other. The kind that burned the world down.
It was... beautiful. If I hadn't gone to Europe—"
She paused, took in my pale face, and smiled like she'd gotten exactly what she wanted.
"The day I left, he stood in the rain all night. He clawed his way up like a man possessed and turned into the cold bastard everyone calls a 'tyrant.' He shut himself off. No women. You think he'd been saving himself for you?" Her smile sharpened. "No. He's been waiting for me."
"You're lying." I cut her off through clenched teeth, my stomach twisting violently as I hunted for a crack in her story. "If he loved you that much, he wouldn't have been with me."
"Because he needed a substitute, you idiot." Natalia's voice stayed smooth, cruel. "I have to give it to him—your eyes and your face? You look enough like me."
A loud ringing started in my ears.
"You were the closest thing he'd found. A nobody girl. Cheap. No background. On-call whenever he snapped his fingers. No responsibility. And most importantly—eyes like mine." She savored it. "He really put in the work. Poor Viktor, suffering all these years. But it's fine. I'm back now."
Every word hit like a scalpel, slicing clean through what was left of my pride.
"But I didn't come today to fight over him." Natalia leaned back, chin lifted. "The Sorokov family has officially acknowledged my relationship with Viktor. The marriage between our families is a done deal. I'm going to be the lady of the Ivanov family. As for you..."
Her gaze crawled over me, dripping with nauseating charity.
"In our world, men keep a few mistresses for physical relief.
That's normal. If you understand what you are—a plain girl—and stay in the dark like a good little toy, I won't mind him keeping you.
" Her eyes turned glacial. "But if you dare to show off at the company, if you try to put yourself above me, forget about me—even Victor's family may not be able to tolerate you. "
I barely breathed. When I finally spoke, it scraped out of me, hoarse and broken.
"You're lying."
His gentleness—those smiles, the way he'd looked at me like I mattered—how could that be fake? How could he do that?
"He won't do this to me," I argued, bloodless and desperate. "He cares about me. He remembers things I said once, in passing. He has feelings for me. We even have a puppy together."
Natalia went strangely quiet for two seconds.
Then she exploded into a sharp, ugly laugh, soaked in pity.
"Oh, Hailey." Her voice turned almost tender—like I was too pathetic to hate. "You think the little scraps of fake kindness he gives you are love? I was going to leave you one last shred of dignity, but you're honestly too stupid. It hurts."
She pulled out her phone, swiped a few times, and shoved the screen right in my face.
"Look. Really look."
I had no choice but to stare.
It was an old photo. Natalia was younger, smiling bright, holding a golden retriever in her arms.
"Cute, right? His name was 'Rex.' Viktor and I raised him together.
" Her voice slid into my ear like a curse.
"When I was sent away, I couldn't take him.
Later, he died. Viktor lost his mind over it.
He beat the guards who watched the dog until they were crippled.
After that, 'dogs' became his one absolute taboo. "
My head went off like a bomb.
Yesterday on the street—Viktor's sudden violence when he saw that golden retriever. The trembling fist. The ice in his eyes.
And later, when he'd brought me that identical puppy in a pristine little cage... the way his gaze went too deep, too wild, like he was drowning in some vicious nostalgia.
"That's all in the past, Hailey. I only care that you smiled."
Lies.
All of it was lies.
When he watched me holding that puppy, he wasn't thinking about me. He'd been looking through me—at Natalia, back then, holding Rex. He hadn't bought the dog because I'd looked twice. He'd bought it because it was a scar that never healed, because he was obsessed with her.
I was a stand-in.
A cheap prop to fill the hollow years—his loneliness and grief dressed up as me.
"Now you get it?" Natalia pulled her phone back, eyeing me like trash. "This little pretend game ends, Hailey. The real one came back. You—this sad excuse for a replacement—need to crawl back into your sewer and behave."
It felt like all the blood drained out of my body in one second. I went cold to the bone.
That familiar, sick feeling of being abandoned came rushing back, drowning me.
I remembered my parents—both of them building new families, passing me around like a damn football. I remembered Matthew, swearing he loved me, then shoving me straight into hell the second it helped his future.
I'd thought I finally found a man who would protect me, who would hold me like I mattered. I'd thought I finally had a "home." But it had been my own stupid fantasy. I was always the one left behind. Always the backup plan.
My dignity got crushed into powder.
"Stop the car." My voice came out ragged, barely a sound.
"That's all it took?" Natalia sneered.
"I SAID STOP!"
I screamed like I'd lost my mind and shoved the door open.
The SUV hit the brakes hard in the garage lane. I didn't wait for it to fully settle—I stumbled out, half falling, half crawling away from that car packed with lies and humiliation.
I staggered toward the exit. My heel twisted mid-run. I kicked the shoes off and sprinted barefoot over freezing concrete, tears flooding my vision.
When I burst out of the garage, Manhattan's early autumn wind cut my face like a blade. It still didn't come close to the pain inside my chest.
I didn't know how far I ran. I just ran until my lungs felt like they were about to split open. Then I stopped at an empty corner.
I leaned against a filthy brick wall and slid down, shaking. I clamped a hand over my mouth and choked out broken, hopeless sobs.
With trembling fingers, I pulled out my phone. The chat stayed the same—no reply. That line that had felt like a promise now looked like a cruel joke.
So that was why he didn't text back. He'd gotten bored with the pretend. The woman he actually loved had come back. And me? I didn't matter anymore.
I was a complete fucking idiot.
My fingers shook as I opened the settings on his contact.
"Confirm adding this contact to blacklist?"
Tears splattered the screen, blurring the cold letters.
I shut my eyes and hit "Confirm" hard.