Too Meek For High Society, Too Deadly To Cross

The hospital room was stark and white, steeped in the sharp, sterile scent of disinfectant.

Natalia Gordon faced the man she had loved for three years, her gaze steady, her voice emptied of warmth or hesitation. "We should divorce, Alexander."

Alexander Douglas had been yanking at his tie in irritation. At her words, his hand stalled and his head snapped up, disbelief spreading across his handsome features. "What did you say?"

He moved toward her, accusation creeping into his tone. "Is this because I took Aimee out first when the robbery turned into a riot at the mall? She's your cousin, Natalia. When did you start being this unreasonable?"

A deep furrow formed on his brow, impatience clear in his eyes. "Do you have any idea what Aimee went through as a child? She was kidnapped trying to protect me. She still carries that trauma. In that kind of chaos, if I hadn't gotten her out immediately, she would have fallen apart."

Natalia smiled then, but the curve of her lips carried no warmth.

"Then what about me?" The words left her quietly, as though she were not truly expecting an answer. "I am your wife. The one being crushed in the crowd beside you, the one barely able to breathe, was me. As my husband, you chose to leave me behind for another woman, and you truly believe that's justified?"

Impatience crept back into Alexander's voice, thinly veiled and sharp. "But you're standing here just fine, aren't you?"

His eyes swept over her dismissively, as though assessing a minor inconvenience rather than his wife. "Aimee is different. She's still shaking in the room next door. Enough, Natalia. Stop making a scene."

With that final remark, he turned away, his steps decisive, not a trace of hesitation in his retreat.

The door opened, then closed, the sound echoing loudly in the sterile room.

Natalia stayed where she was, arms slack at her sides as her fingers slowly curled inward, nails biting into her palms until the pain grounded her.

Fragments of the mall chaos replayed in her mind, stretched and distorted like a scene trapped in slow motion. Screams. Panicked cries. The deafening crash of shelves collapsing under the weight of fear.

She had been standing on Alexander's left, and before she could stop herself, her hand lifted toward him on instinct alone.

Yet, his hand was already clasped tightly around Aimee Wallace, his grip firm and unquestioning.

His eyes swept past Natalia without pause, without recognition, as though she were no longer within his field of vision.

From beginning to end, the only person he truly saw was Aimee.

Without turning his head or looking back even once, he dragged Aimee out of the surging, panicked crowd. Natalia remained where she was, abandoned behind him amid the chaos.

At that instant, a vibration pulsed through her phone. The sharp buzz tore her out of the memory before it could finish consuming her.

Her phone screen lit up with a message from an unfamiliar number, an image attached beneath it.

She opened it almost mechanically.

A pregnancy test filled the screen, Aimee's name printed clearly beside the result, the implication striking Natalia with brutal clarity.

Below the image was a single text, deliberate and unmistakably provocative. "Alexander said he doesn't love you. He wants a child with me instead."

A sharp glint of self-directed ridicule crossed Natalia's gaze.

So that was the reason behind everything. It explained why Alexander had never been intimate with her in the three years they had been married. It also explained why, whenever the family mentioned children, he redirected the conversation to his work. It was not a lack of desire for a child. He simply did not want one with her.

Her expression did not change as she captured the screen and stored the image away. Without hesitation, she placed a call. "Carson, I need the divorce papers sent to Room 202, Egonio Medical Center."

Silence stretched briefly on the other end before Carson Williams answered, "That can be done."

She ended the call, and almost immediately, her phone vibrated again.

A group chat that had stayed quiet for three years resurfaced.

The name "Task Force Prime" appeared bold and unapologetically aggressive.

Carson typed, "Well, look who finally decided to show up. You've been gone for three years because of a man, and the first thing you do when you show up again is file for divorce? And what happened to that whole idea of wanting to experience some ordinary kind of love?"

Natalia's fingers paused briefly over the screen before moving with unhurried precision. She typed back, "It's done. Not worth another second of my time."

Carson responded without delay, his tone shifting, "Now that sounds like you. Then the timing couldn't be better. Are you ready to take on a job? A top-tier encrypted file was stolen from the organization. The last confirmed trace points to Egonio, Khustin. This assignment has been sitting untouched for half a month. No one dared to pick it up. What do you say? Feel like coming back and reminding everyone exactly what you can do?"

A sharp glimmer surfaced in Natalia's eyes.

That location was no coincidence. It was precisely where she was standing now.

She sent a single reply. "I'm in."

Thirty minutes later, a freshly printed stack of divorce papers rested firmly in Natalia's hands.

She turned without slowing and approached the door of the adjacent hospital room, pushing it open decisively.

Inside, Alexander stood close to the bed, carefully adjusting the blanket around Aimee while murmuring soft reassurances.

The sound of the door drew their attention, and both of them looked up at once.

Natalia disregarded the fragile, pleading expression on Aimee's face and walked straight toward Alexander.

The divorce papers struck the bedside cabinet with a crisp, jarring smack.

"Alexander," she said evenly. "Sign them."

Alexander's face flushed a violent red, fury hardening every line of his expression.

"Natalia, have you completely lost your mind?" he barked. "For three years you've stayed home, with no career, no income, not a cent set aside. What exactly makes you think you have anything to bargain with when you ask me for a divorce? The moment you walk out that door, you will not even be able to pay rent."

Certainty weighed down his words, the arrogance in his tone unmistakable. "You will regret this."

Natalia's crimson lips lifted into a faint curve, the smile sharp and openly derisive. "Regret this? And who, exactly, do you think you are?"

Her eyes flicked from him to Aimee, revulsion making no attempt to hide itself. "You could put a hundred million dollars in front of me, and I still would not waste another second tied to a man as disgusting as you. Standing beside you alone makes my skin crawl."

The naked contempt in her stare struck Alexander like a slap. Anger boiled over as he snatched the pen from the cabinet, dragging it across the page as he scrawled his signature at the bottom of the document, the motion sharp and unhesitating.

He hurled the papers back in her direction. "Do not come crawling back later."

Natalia caught the thin stack effortlessly. Her eyes skimmed the signatures, her name finally disentangled from Alexander's, and satisfaction curved her lips.

She raised her gaze, letting it pass over his livid face before settling on Aimee, pale and trembling against the hospital bed.

"Oh, right," Natalia said casually, lifting her phone and giving it a small, deliberate shake. "Aimee, that photo you sent, the pregnancy test, and that smug little message you added. Every one of them is safely saved. I hope you and the child you are carrying are prepared for what it feels like to be examined by the entire internet. This will be posted. Everywhere."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, the sharp click of her heels echoing down the corridor.

...

Natalia returned to a modest apartment she owned in the heart of Egonio, a place she had kept carefully separate from her married life.

Alexander had never once known this apartment existed.

Three years earlier, she had only just stepped back into the country, barely finding time to steady herself before her grandmother swiftly arranged a marriage alliance with the Douglas family.

Back then, exhaustion weighed heavily on her. After years of skirting danger and enduring an unrelenting pace, the idea of marrying Alexander and settling into a calm, ordinary life with someone she believed she loved had seemed almost comforting.

Because the union had been arranged by both families, she had taken it for granted that Alexander viewed the marriage the same way she did.

The truth only surfaced after the wedding ceremony ended. His heart had long belonged to Aimee, yet he had still gone ahead and married her.

Once married, he behaved as if Natalia barely existed within his world.

What a piece of trash.

Without ceremony, Natalia tossed the divorce papers onto the entryway cabinet, opened the refrigerator, and retrieved a bottle of icy water.

She drank it down in long swallows, the cold washing through her chest and finally dousing the last sparks of irritation.

In the study, she switched on a laptop that looked unremarkable on the surface but hid layers of top-tier encryption beneath its casing.

Light bloomed across the screen, revealing a file the organization had sent, sitting quietly on the desktop.

The filename read "Top-Secret Encrypted File Theft."

Threads of clues twisted together in chaos, yet every single one led back to the same destination, the Evans family residence in Egonio, Khustin.

Her long fingers began to move with speed and precision, pulling up every scrap of publicly available information on the Evans family within moments.

Among the dense layers of data, a recruitment notice abruptly caught her attention. "Evans Group is seeking a Senior Nutritionist with attractive compensation to take full charge of Christopher Evans' daily dietary needs."

Christopher stood at the helm of the company. Stories about him circulated widely, describing a man who made decisions without hesitation, enforced his will ruthlessly, and tolerated no opposition.

Recently, a major car accident had left both of his legs gravely injured, altering his physical condition overnight.

Light flashed briefly in Natalia's eyes, and a subtle, self-assured smile appeared at the edge of her mouth.

She shut the laptop and headed into the walk-in closet. The restrictive dress was discarded, replaced with a crisp white shirt and fitted black trousers. Her long hair was gathered high and secured neatly. In moments, the familiar sharpness returned, the composed presence of an elite operative settling back into place.

The next day, at Evans Manor, seated on a sofa in the formal living room, Natalia finally came face to face with Christopher.

He remained in a wheelchair, dressed in a tailored black shirt with two buttons left undone at the collar, exposing the clean line of his collarbone.

There was an edge to his appearance that bordered on intimidating. The sharp bridge of his nose, the firm set of his mouth, and eyes colder than ice allowed him to dominate the space without effort, pressing down on the room with sheer presence alone.

The lines of muscle were clearly defined beneath the fabric. Even seated in a wheelchair, his frame gave away nothing of weakness. With that build, it was easy to imagine him standing well over six foot two, broad and imposing.

Natalia set a neat stack of credentials on the table before him.

"Senior Nutritionist certification. International Master Chef license. There are a few additional qualifications as well," she said evenly. "You may examine them at your convenience, Mr. Evans."

Christopher lifted his eyes slowly from the documents, his gaze settling on her composed expression. A faint curve touched the corner of his thin lips.

When he finally spoke, his voice came out low and magnetic, carrying a trace of casual amusement.

"So," he said, "even the wife of the Douglas Group's CEO needs to step out and earn her own money now?"

At the bluntness of Christopher's question, a trace of surprise flickered through Natalia's eyes, only to vanish as her lips lifted into a polished smile that remained carefully distant.

"You're a little behind the times, Mr. Evans," she replied lightly. "Alexander and I finalized our divorce yesterday."

Her voice carried an easy cheer, as though she were mentioning something that had nothing to do with her at all. "At this point, I'm simply an ordinary person searching for work."

Christopher's sharp gaze rested on her face for a brief moment, its intensity cutting deep, as if it could strip away every layer and expose whatever lay beneath.

Natalia held his stare without flinching, her expression open and unguarded.

After a pause, he finally looked away, his long fingers giving a light, measured tap against the armrest of his wheelchair.

"Your credentials meet our standards. You are hired," he said calmly. "Emilio, escort Ms. Gordon to the room prepared for her."

Emilio Ward, the elderly butler, stepped forward with quiet respect. "This way, Ms. Gordon."

...

Once Natalia departed with Emilio, the door to the study opened again.

James Bradley, Christopher's friend, entered at a brisk pace, curiosity written plainly across his features. "You really intend to let her stay?"

Christopher offered no verbal reply, only a slight nod that signaled James to look deeper into Natalia.

Understanding dawned immediately. James pulled out his tablet, muttering under his breath as his fingers moved. "I glanced at her earlier, and she felt familiar. Right, I remember now. She appeared at a party once. She's the woman Alexander married three years ago."

Christopher's fingers continued their steady rhythm against the tabletop, the dull sound punctuating the silence. "That organization has been stirring again in Egonio recently," he said evenly. "Anyone drawing close to the Evans family at a time like this requires a complete background check."

James's expression hardened with understanding. "Understood."

At the same time, Natalia was escorted to a guest room located on the third floor of the main building.

The room opened into a bright, expansive space furnished with unmistakable luxury. Compared to the so-called home she had shared with Alexander, this room surpassed it by more than a few degrees.

Before leaving, the staff member accompanying her offered a few courteous reminders. "Ms. Gordon, there will be a small welcoming gathering in the back garden this evening," she said politely. "It is being held in honor of Mr. Christopher Evans' brother. If you feel inclined to step outside later, you are welcome to attend and have a look around."

Natalia gave a brief nod. Once the room fell quiet, a subtle glint of thought crossed her eyes.

A party?

With people moving freely in and out, it would be an ideal chance to observe the manor's layout and assess its security arrangements firsthand.

Decision settled, Natalia took a quick shower, slipped into an understated black dress, and made her way toward the back garden.

The moment her shoes touched the soft grass, a sharp yet unmistakably familiar female voice rang out nearby. "Natalia?"

She halted mid-step, turning toward the sound. Alexander stood there with a darkened expression, while Aimee clung to his arm, her grip possessive, her posture smug, as though she were proudly displaying something she had won.

Aimee lifted a hand to her mouth, feigning shock. "Oh my, how did you end up here? This is the Evans family estate, the most distinguished household in all of Egonio. Security here is notoriously strict. It is not a place just anyone can wander into."

Her eyes swept over Natalia with open disdain, contempt dripping from her voice. "Do not tell me you sneaked in simply because you heard Alexander would be here today."

At her words, Alexander's expression hardened further.

He fixed Natalia with a glare steeped in revulsion and ridicule. "Natalia, can you show even a shred of dignity? We finalized our divorce yesterday, and today you are already trailing after me without shame. How low do you intend to sink?"

Before the weight of his accusation could fully settle, a sharp, unmistakable slap cracked across Alexander's face.

The garden entrance plunged into complete silence.

Natalia lowered her hand slowly, her eyes cold and unyielding.

"Alexander," she said, her voice measured, every syllable pressed with deliberate calm. "Get a grip on yourself and mind your words. If you are incapable of that, I will not hesitate to make sure you never speak again."

The warning snapped the last thread of Alexander's restraint. "How dare you lay a hand on me?" he roared.

One hand flew to his face, fury blazing in his eyes as he surged forward, ready to rush at her.

Natalia did not even spare him a proper look. A faint crease formed between her brows, irritation flickering at having her path obstructed by the two of them.

Starting a public scene on her first day at Evans Manor would only invite Christopher's scrutiny.

Unwilling to let matters spiral further, she sent them one final, frost-laced glance before turning away and leaving.

"Stop right there!" Alexander shouted after her, moving to give chase.

"Mr. Douglas." A member of the Evans household staff stepped forward quietly, positioning himself in Alexander's path. His manner remained courteous, yet unmistakably detached. "Beyond this point lies Mr. Christopher Evans' private residence. Without explicit permission, no outsiders may proceed."

...

Within the study, the air hung thick with tension.

James passed a freshly printed document across the desk to Christopher.

"I have the information ready," James reported. "Everything before Natalia turned nineteen is clean and simple. She was raised in the countryside by her grandmother, performed decently in school, nothing that stands out. Three years earlier, she had complied with her grandmother's arrangements, relocated to Egonio, and entered into marriage with Alexander."

Christopher lifted the document and swept through the contents at a glance, his reading swift and precise.

The report bordered on excessive in its detail, noting even how many times Natalia had received commendations as an outstanding student in elementary school.

Rather than an investigation summary, it read like a personal profile that had been meticulously prepared ahead of time.

One line, however, caught Christopher's attention and held it. "Transferred schools in eighth grade."

His long finger rested against the word "transferred," tapping once as a thoughtful light surfaced in his eyes.

"Look into everything starting from her school transfer in eighth grade up until her return to Egonio at nineteen," he said evenly. "I want to know precisely where she was during those years."