Their Villain, The Mogul's Beloved

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

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

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

“Kids don’t cause accidents,” 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 place to breathe free.

The Clark 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 Clarks, 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 plan was to pass it to Natasha as part of her dowry once she got married.

“Miss Clark.” 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 Clarks after Natasha had already moved out. She’d pegged Olivia as the real daughter, just using her mom’s last 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 Clarks 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 glance at the “forgotten” daughter.

Natasha was pure Clark–more than Olivia. The Clarks 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.

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8:17 pm

Chapter 8

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up. “Natasha! Come sit, we

her face flat.

would tease her with hot sauces, laughing when she’d gasp and fan her

end up chewing them out. But when Olivia arrived–born early, fragile, needing special meals–the Clark table

food. If you’re not into it, I’ll have the kitchen whip up something

into a chair and locked eyes with Andrew. “You said

relax ‘til after dinner?

pressed her

in from gaming upstairs.

one side, the three kids on the other. Olivia always sat

know we started labeling chairs,” Natasha shot back. “What if

quick smile to

the cops mentioning Natasha’s injury. He muttered something and sank into his

flicker of annoyance

about Natasha, she wasn’t about to

pot.

didn’t want to sweat the small stuff, but seeing Olivia

waving a maid over. “Grab

But Olivia? Suddenly it was a tragedy, and the whole family scrambled to fix

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8:17 pm

Chapter 8

into a

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and shot her a smug look. That was enough. Natasha stood, marched over,

was Natasha,