It was a cool night as Catherine’s elegant car came close to the area. She turned off the ignition, and her heartbeat began racing against her chest. She glanced at the warehouse entrance, holding on tightly to an envelope of cash and documents.

"That Natasha again!" Catherine muttered, looking into the rearview mirror. "She never seems satisfied with what she gets!"

Catherine got out of the car, her feet sinking into the pebbles. She did not notice the two SUVs parked behind the huge stacks of shipping containers. She did not even notice Marek and Silas observing her movements from above through their thermal scopes.

At the warehouse, Marek wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. He then turned to the bruised Natasha that trembled on her seat.

"The girl is here," whispered Marek into his walkie-talkie. "We should just keep quiet until we have the girl. The information she will give us will make us very rich."

A creak was heard as the heavy metal door opened. Catherine walked inside, illuminated by a beam of moonlight.

"Natasha?" Catherine called out, her voice echoing. "I’m here. Where are you? Show yourself so we can get this over with."

Natasha didn’t speak. Silas pushed her chair forward into the dim light of a single hanging bulb. Catherine gasped, seeing her partner in crime looking like a ghost.

"Oh my God, Natasha! What’s wrong with you?"

Catherine was about to rush towards Natasha, but suddenly Silas emerged from behind the chair with a submachine gun pointed straight at her chest.

"She had a little accident," Silas replied with a sinister tone. "But not to worry, Catherine. We were expecting you."

Catherine dropped the envelope containing the cash on the dirty floor. "Who are you? I have money! Please, take the money and let me go!"

"Your money doesn’t interest us," Marek replied as he came out from behind Catherine and blocked her way. "What we are interested in is that accident. How much did you pay to eliminate Fiona Brown?"

Catherine’s face turned pale. "She told you? You’re lying! She is a criminal, you cannot trust her!"

"Unfortunately, you have the whole night to tell us what you have lied about," Silas grabbed Catherine by the arm and forced her into another metal chair. "Moreover, Mr. Keith doesn’t know that you’re in our custody yet. When we contact him, we will have discovered all your secrets."

Catherine screamed, struggling against Silas’s grip, but it was useless. Marek pulled out a recorder and set it on the table.

"Start from the beginning, Catherine," Marek commanded. "Tell us about the day you decided your sister had to die."

Catherine sneered, her gaze wandering all around the room frantically despite the fact that the barrel of the gun was directed straight at her. No matter the situation, she had managed to maintain the pose of a high-classed lady; looking at Silas with complete hatred as if she wanted to step on him.

"I don’t have a clue what you are talking about! I have come here only because that Russian woman was blackmailing me," she replied angrily, folding her arms across her chest. "Believe me, I am the victim here, not the killer. Three years ago, my sister Fiona died from a terrible road accident, hit by some drunkard. The incident made headlines that time. Check out any newspaper."

Silas gave a cynical laugh. Getting closer to Catherine, he could smell the tobacco scent on her breath. "That is what you told the police, isn’t it? But the driver remained unknown. And it is amazing how, according to Natasha here, the information about the number plate and the place where Fiona was walking came from you!"

"She’s a liar!" Catherine screamed, pointing a trembling finger at the bruised Natasha. "She’s a criminal and a liar! You’re going to take her word over mine? My father is Duncan Brown! I’ll have your jobs for this!"

But Marek came and picked up the folder that had fallen on the floor from Catherine’s hands. The contents of the fake papers and the cash had been thoroughly examined by him. "Victims don’t usually come to warehouses late at night with thirty thousand dollars in cash and forged exit visas. You weren’t being blackmailed; you were paying someone off to keep their mouth shut about your crime."

"Catherine screamed, almost reaching a shrill tone with her voice, "She threatened me with killing my mother if I failed to provide her with the money. What could I do?"

Marek looked at Silas with contempt. "A slippery customer, just like a snake; always knows how to come up with some excuse for herself."

Turning again towards Catherine, he made a face that became terribly expressionless in the dim light. "We know that it wasn’t just a ’drunk driver.’ We know you sent someone to hit her while she was walking so that it seemed like an accidental murder. We know that you wanted her out of the way because Nathan Keith paid attention to her, not to you."

"I never even fancy that arrogant fool! Why am I even talking? There’s nothing you can prove," Catherine whispered, narrowing her eyes. "No trace of any sort."

"We don’t need a paper trail to call Mr. Keith," Silas said, pulling out his phone. "And believe me, when he finds out you’re the reason the woman he loves has been drugged in a Russian basement for three years, he won’t be looking for a ’paper trail’ either. He’ll be looking for a shovel."

Catherine’s bravado finally flickered. Her breathing became shallow. "You... you haven’t told him yet?"

"Not yet," Marek said, circling her chair. "We wanted to see if you’d make it easy. But since you want to play the ’innocent victim’ game, maybe we’ll just leave you here with Natasha for a few hours. No food, no water, just the two of you talking about the old days."

"Wait!" Catherine shouted as they turned to walk toward the exit. "What do you want?"

"The truth, Catherine," Marek said without turning around. "Every detail of the hit. The name of the driver. The amount you paid. Or we call Nathan, and I promise you, you’ll wish you were in a Russian prison by the time he’s done with you."

###

Nathan stood by the heavy oak door of the study, his face like stone. Inside, the only light came from a single desk lamp, casting long shadows across the room. Duncan Brown sat in a leather chair, his hands gripping the armrests so hard his knuckles were white. He looked like he had aged ten years in a single night.

"She has a child?" Duncan said out loud, his voice full of disbelief. He quickly caught himself and lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "A grandson? You’re telling me I have a grandson in Russia?"

Nathan nodded slowly, leaning against the bookshelf. "His name is Mateo. He’s two years old. Nikolai has been using the boy to anchor her to that life."

Duncan shook his head, staring at the floor. "And she doesn’t remember him now? She woke up thinking she’s still a girl living in my house?"

"Her mind is protecting itself, Duncan," Nathan said, his voice raspy. "If she remembers the boy, she has to remember the man who took her. She has to remember the past years of hell she lived through. Her brain isn’t ready to bridge that gap yet."

"But he’s my blood," Duncan whispered, a new kind of pain crossing his face. "And he’s with that monster. What kind of life is a two-year-old living in a house full of guards and secrets?"

"He’s Nikolai’s ’perfect son,’" Nathan said with a bitter edge. "He’s well-fed and well-cared for, but he’s a prisoner just like Fiona was. Nikolai will never let him go. He’ll use that boy to lure her back to Moscow. In fact, he’s probably already started."

Duncan looked up, his eyes suddenly sharp. "We have to get him. We can’t leave a child behind, Nathan. I failed my daughter, but I won’t fail that boy."

"It’s not that simple," Nathan countered. "We have Nikolai’s men hunting us. And most importantly, If we tell her she has a son in Russia, it might break her for good."

"You can’t keep it a secret," Duncan argued. "If she finds out from Nikolai instead of you, she’ll never trust you again. You’ll be just another man who lied to her."

Nathan went silent. He knew Duncan was right, but the thought of seeing the light go out of Fiona’s eyes when she realized she’d lost two years of her son’s life was more than he could bear.

Suddenly, a muffled scream echoed from the lower levels of the villa—Catherine’s voice, sharp and full of fake outrage.

Duncan stood up, his face hardening. "Is that Catherine? Why is she here?"

"My men picked her up," Nathan said, moving toward the door. "She was trying to buy her way out of this mess. I think it’s time we find out exactly how much she knows about Nikolai’s plans for Mateo."