Dumping Him for His Uncle (Natasha and Zachary) novel Chapter 17

Natasha scoffed. "Sister?

"Since when have I ever been Nicole's sister? And when the hell did you become my mother? Olivia, I respected you because you married into the Bradley family. Don't think that means I'm easy to push around."

The moment the words left her mouth, Henry struck her across the face. Natasha clutched her smarting cheek, her ears ringing from the slap.

"Henry, you have no right to call yourself my father!" she shouted, her voice cracking.

Without waiting for a response, she bolted through the gated entrance of her building. Olivia tried to chase after her, but the gate closed before she could follow.

Henry said, "Forget it. She's not going to open the gate for you. You'll just end up waiting out here like an idiot."

Olivia stomped in frustration. "Why did you hit her? If we'd just talked a little longer, maybe she would've agreed."

Henry said coldly, "She doesn't get a choice. She'll do it whether she wants to or not."

The next morning, sunlight poured in through the windows, casting wide beams across the bedroom floor. A breeze rustled the trees outside, scattering shadows across Natasha's face.

She frowned and rolled over, only to be jolted awake by a sharp pain in her cheek. It was still swollen and red.

When she got home yesterday, she was too upset to ice it, and it wasn't until she looked in the mirror that she realized her entire cheek was bruised and swollen.

She had endured this kind of pain countless times growing up, and each instance only deepened her disappointment in that so-called father of hers. But every time she thought about her mother being so in love with him, Natasha couldn't help but wish he could give her even a little bit of fatherly love.

She wasn't greedy—she would have been content with the scraps. But Henry had never given her any, and like a fool, she kept waiting.

Her phone buzzed with a message.

Still holding an ice pack to her cheek, she unlocked it with her free hand.

Henry's name flashed across the screen, followed by a short, cold message. "Have you thought about what we talked about? Your mother's grave has fallen into disrepair. It might be time someone took care of it."

Natasha's pupils shrank. Her fingers tightened around the phone until her knuckles turned white.

"Despicable!" she hissed under her breath.