Fiona pulled her hand back slightly, looking at Duncan with a confused frown. This wasn’t the cold, distant father she was used to. The Duncan Brown she knew didn’t sob, and he certainly didn’t fly across the country just to sit by her bed.

"Dad, you’re being really weird," Fiona said, her voice sounding small and suspicious. "Did Valerie find out about the fake deal with Nathan? Is that why you’re upset? Are you worried about the family reputation?"

Duncan looked up, his eyes red and swollen. He wanted to scream that he had buried a casket with her name on it. He wanted to tell her he’d lived in a nightmare for close to three years. But he saw the look in Nathan’s eyes was a warning to keep it together.

"No, Fiona," Duncan said, wiping his face with a trembling hand. "It’s not about Valerie. It’s not about the reputation. I just... I realized I haven’t been a good father. I realized I should have stood up for you a long time ago."

Fiona stared at him, then looked at Nathan. "Nathan, what did you do to him? Did you threaten him or something? He’s never said that to me in my entire life."

Nathan sat on the other side of the bed, taking her hand to ground her. "No one threatened him, cupcake. He just finally woke up. He realized how much you mean to this family."

"But I was just at the fair yesterday," Fiona insisted, her voice rising with a hint of panic. "I was fine! Why is Dr. Aris here? Why does it feel like I’ve missed something huge?"

She looked at the DNA machine in the corner, which gave a final, loud ding.

"What is that?" she asked, pointing a shaky finger at the monitor.

Dr. Aris stepped forward, holding the tablet so she could see the bright green results. "Fiona, this is a test. It’s a way to show you that you belong here. That you are Duncan Brown’s daughter, 100%."

Fiona laughed, a short, nervous sound. "Well, duh? I know he’s my dad. Why would you need a test for that? Are you guys trying to say I’m an imposter or something? Is this some new game Valerie is playing to get me kicked out of the house?"

She started to get agitated, her heart rate monitor beeping faster. To her, this was all a strange, terrifying joke. She didn’t remember the "Viktoria" version of her.

"Nathan, take these tubes out of me," she pleaded, her eyes filling with tears. "I want to go home. I want to see Ella and Jillian. I don’t like this house. It’s too big and it’s too quiet."

Nathan leaned in close, his heart breaking because he knew he couldn’t take her "home"—that home didn’t exist anymore.

"We can’t go back to the mansion yet, Fiona," Nathan said softly. "But I promise, you’re safe here. Your dad is here. No one is going to be mean to you ever again. Not Valerie, not Catherine... no one."

Duncan reached out, and this time, he actually took her hand. His grip was tight, as if he were afraid she would vanish if he let go. "I won’t let them touch you, Fiona. I promise. I’ll tell Valerie to leave. I’ll make it right."

Fiona looked at her father’s face, seeing the genuine pain and regret there. For the first time in her life, he was actually looking at her—not through her.

"You mean it?" she whispered.

"With my life," Duncan said.

#####

Catherine was pacing her bedroom floor her face was twisted with anxiety. Ever since her stepfather, Duncan, had rushed out of the house with that "work emergency," she had a knot in her stomach that wouldn’t go away.

"Come on, pick up," she hissed, staring at her phone. She was calling Natasha’s private line for the tenth time.

Catherine knew exactly where Fiona was supposed to be—buried in a drugged haze in Russia, living as Nikolai’s puppet. She and her mother, Valerie, had worked too hard to get Fiona out of the picture to have it all fall apart now. She needed to confirm that the "Viktoria" plan was still solid. If Duncan was acting strange, it meant Nathan Keith was up to something.

"Pick up, you bitch," Catherine muttered, pressing redial.

Natasha was a broken version of herself. Her once-perfect hair was matted with sweat and dirt, and she slumped in a metal chair, her wrists raw from the zip-ties. Nathan’s men didn’t have to hit her again; the isolation and the hunger were enough. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

Her phone, sitting on a wooden crate nearby, began to buzz again. The screen lit up with Catherine’s name.

One of Nathan’s guards, a cold-eyed man named Marek, picked up the phone and looked at the screen. He looked at Natasha, then back at the phone.

"This ’Catherine’ is very persistent," Marek said, his voice low and dangerous. "Is she one of your accomplices? Did she help you arrange the accident?"

Natasha didn’t even hesitate. She had spent her life looking out for number one, and Catherine Brown was a liability she was happy to shed.

"She is the mastermind," Natasha said hurriedly, her voice cracking. "Everything. The body swap, the timing of the car crash... it was her idea. She wanted Fiona gone so she could have the Brown fortune for herself. She’s the one you want."

Marek exchanged a look with the other guard. He leaned down, grabbing Natasha by her hair and tilting her head back.

"Listen to me, Natasha. If you can get her to come here, we will give you a meal and a bottle of water. We might even let you sleep on a real bed. But if she doesn’t come... if you fail to lure her... then you might as well starve and die in this chair. Do you understand?"

Natasha trembled, her eyes wide with terror. "I... I can do it. Give me the phone. I’ll make her come."

Marek signaled his partner to untie her right hand just enough to hold the phone. He pressed the accept button on the next call and held the device to her ear, a silenced pistol pressed against her ribs to make sure she didn’t scream for help.

Natasha! Finally!" Catherine’s voice screamed through the phone. "Where have you been? My father left the house with his passport, and he isn’t answering his phone. Did Nathan find her? Is she still in Moscow?"

Natasha took a shaky breath, forcing her voice to be steady, cool, and manipulative—just like Catherine expected.

"Catherine, shut up and listen," Natasha said, her tone sharp. "I haven’t answered because I’ve been busy cleaning up your mess. Nathan is stubborn. He’s poking around the medical facility in Moscow."

"I knew it!" Catherine gasped. "We have to move her! Kill her if you have to!"

"I can’t do anything without the final payment," Natasha lied, her eyes locked on the gun on her ribs. "And Nikolai won’t sign off on the disposal until he sees the original American paperwork. He says he doesn’t trust you anymore. He thinks you’re going to double-cross him."

"That’s ridiculous!"

"Then prove it," Natasha said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I’m at the private warehouse near the docks—the one we used for the transition. Meet me here in thirty minutes with the original files and the cash. If you don’t, I’m telling Nikolai to hand Fiona over to Nathan and give him your name as the one who ordered the hit."

"You wouldn’t dare," Catherine breathed.

"Try me. You have thirty minutes, Catherine. After that, I’m gone, and you’re the one Nathan Keith will be hunting."

Fine," Catherine snapped. "I’ll be there. But you better have Nikolai under control, Natasha. I’m not losing my inheritance because of a Russian thug."

"I’ll be waiting at the old warehouse on 5th Street," Natasha said.

Marek pulled the phone away and disconnected the call. He looked at Natasha and gave a short, cruel nod.

"Good. You might get to eat tonight after all."