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."

Night settled deeper over the manor, quiet and unhurried.

Natalia entered the dining room carrying a carefully balanced meal she had prepared herself.

The light fragrance of mushroom soup mingled with lean meat and brightly colored vegetables, the clean scent spreading through the room.

Christopher was already seated at the head of the table. He had changed into dark gray silk loungewear, the relaxed fabric lending him a languid elegance that softened the severity he carried during the day.

His eyes lifted and came to rest on her.

"Aside from the cleaning staff who arrive on schedule, this place is usually occupied by only James and me," he said, his low voice carrying easily through the spacious dining room. "That makes you more of a guest than an employee. Sit and eat with me."

Natalia did not decline. She took the seat across from him without hesitation.

Lifting her utensils, she ate quietly, calmly noting Christopher's movements from across the table.

Every motion of his was measured and refined, his dining manners polished to perfection, the kind of elegance that seemed bred into him rather than learned.

"I was told there was a minor unpleasant incident involving you and Mr. Douglas at the garden entrance this evening," Christopher said, setting his cutlery aside and dabbing his mouth with a silk napkin.

Natalia caught the intent beneath the question at once. This was not small talk.

She looked up, her face calm and unruffled. "I would not call it unpleasant," she said evenly. "I merely returned the favor."

A trace of interest surfaced in Christopher's eyes, faint but unmistakable. "Oh? He chose another woman over you, yet you appear to have walked away without a hint of grievance."

Natalia's lips curved slightly, her expression carrying a quiet indifference. "Mr. Evans, I just made the decision to abandon him. Once something no longer holds value to me, I do not keep it."

Her words were plain, stripped of bitterness or complaint.

"Are women from the countryside always this direct and strong-willed?" Christopher studied her with an assessing gaze, as though trying to look past her words and into what lay underneath.

Natalia met his eyes without evasion, her gaze steady and clear. "In small places, life is simple," she said calmly. "When someone treats me well, I return it in kind. But if someone tries to push me around, I do not stay silent. If you want to survive, you need a few rules of your own."

Her answer left no gaps, fitting neatly with the image of a resilient woman shaped by a small town.

The rest of the meal passed in quiet restraint, an undercurrent of tension lingering between them.

Just as Natalia moved to rise and clear the table, Christopher stopped her. "Wait."

He reached into his pocket, took out an exclusive card, and slid it across the table toward her. "Go and choose some appropriate clothing for yourself."

Natalia lifted an eyebrow slightly. "That will not be necessary, Mr. Evans. I brought my own clothes."

Christopher's eyes drifted over her plain T-shirt, his brow tightening almost imperceptibly. "You are my nutritionist. Dressing you in staff attire would be unsuitable. As for your personal wardrobe—"

He paused briefly before adding, "I prefer better-quality fabrics."

A faint crease appeared between Natalia's brows.

So that was the issue. In his eyes, her clothes simply did not measure up.

She did not argue. Extending her hand, she accepted the card and said evenly, "Thank you, Mr. Evans."

Back in her room, Natalia locked the door and immediately opened her encrypted laptop.

The familiar group chat interface appeared on the screen, the name Task Force Prime displayed clearly at the top.

She sent a brief message. "I am inside Evans Manor. The operation has begun. All operatives remain on standby and do not approach the manor to avoid drawing attention."

The moment her message went through, the group chat erupted with activity.

Carson responded first. "That is unreal. You got yourself inside in a single day?"

Vernon Moore followed immediately after. "That is insane. Nicely done."

Nadine Davis joined in soon after. "Congrats on the divorce. And welcome back to the organization. Oh, and one more thing. Is Christopher really as outrageously handsome as the rumors claim?"

Natalia stared at Nadine's openly starstruck message, and without warning, Christopher's face surfaced in her thoughts.

Her fingers hovered for a brief moment, then moved as she typed, "Not exaggerated."

Once the reply was sent, she closed the laptop, rose from the bed, and headed to the bathroom to wash up.

Later that night, Natalia got up to get a glass of water. As she passed by the study, muted voices drifted out through the door.

She slowed to a stop.

The voices belonged to Christopher and James.

"Still nothing on the renowned doctor Lia?" James sounded tense, urgency threading through his words. "We have exhausted every channel. It is as if she disappeared entirely. There is no trace of her anywhere."

Natalia's pupils tightened instantly.

The so-called renowned doctor Lia was nothing more than another identity she wore.

Natalia remained frozen, barely breathing, as Christopher's low, weary voice carried through the door. "Keep looking. Whatever it costs, she must be found."

She slipped back to her room without a sound, her pulse racing far too fast to ignore.

Returning to her desk, Natalia dropped into the chair and brought the computer to life, her slender fingers flying as she entered a dense sequence of code to access a hidden trading platform.

This site existed for elite assassins and intelligence brokers operating in the shadows.

She typed her alias into the search field. Lia.

The screen refreshed instantly, and a pinned bounty notice surfaced at the top. "All information regarding Lia, including contact details and past movements. Compensation negotiable."

The post carried no name or traceable signature.

Natalia's eyes narrowed as she registered the timestamp. It had gone up a month earlier.

The date aligned perfectly with the night the top-secret encrypted file vanished from the organization.

A bold and unsettling possibility began to take shape in her mind.

Christopher's damaged legs might not have been the result of a simple car accident.

It was far more likely he had been injured that night while attempting to breach the organization to steal the file, triggering the defense system she herself had designed.

Natalia's heartbeat crashed violently against her ribs, each thud echoing in her ears.

She exited the web account without hesitation, the screen dimming as she logged out.

Now that she had stepped inside Evans Manor, the identity of Lia didn't serve a purpose, at least for the moment.

Right now, only one objective mattered, finding the missing top-secret document.

The following morning arrived quietly.

James rushed into the dining room, barely containing the excitement written all over his face. "Christopher, Lia was online last night!"

At the announcement, Christopher paused mid-motion, fingers still wrapped around a cup of warm water.

After a brief pause, James continued, his enthusiasm dimming, "But she never replied to any of my messages. She vanished again after only a few minutes."

Christopher placed the cup down carefully and answered in an even tone, "Keep trying."

Despite his calm reply, his eyes drifted past James, landing quietly on a figure not far away, Natalia, moving with efficiency in the open kitchen.

She wore simple loungewear, her long hair loosely tied as she focused on preparing breakfast without distraction.

Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, settling gently across her form.

A flicker of contemplation surfaced briefly in Christopher's gaze.

The very day Natalia arrived, Lia, who had remained silent for three long years, suddenly resurfaced.

Was it merely a coincidence?

Once breakfast ended, Natalia dried her hands and finally spoke. "Mr. Evans, once I've completed my work, am I allowed to leave and return to the manor freely?"

Christopher lifted his gaze toward her, his unreadable expression offering no clues.

"Of course," he replied simply, without elaboration.

Natalia offered a brief word of thanks before turning and stepping out of the manor.

On the ground floor of a bustling cafe in Egonio's busiest commercial district, Natalia sat opposite a man in his early forties, his appearance so ordinary it would fade instantly once he merged into a crowd.

He was the contact dispatched by the organization, unremarkable by design.

The man slid a black travel bag beneath the table. "Everything you requested is inside," he said in a low voice.

Natalia nudged the bag lightly with her toe, recognizing the familiar weight and contours through the fabric.

Inside were several compact tools she knew as well as her own hands, along with one unmistakable object, cold, heavy, and unforgiving. A handgun.

Neither Christopher nor the rest of the Evans family was someone she could afford to underestimate. Only with these items within reach did she feel even the slightest sense of security.

Her thoughts drifted briefly to the card Christopher had given her, and she decided she might as well buy a few outfits later. At least then, he would have no excuse to criticize her again.

While she was lost in thought, a familiar voice cut in from behind.

"Natalia? You just finalized a divorce, and you're already meeting someone else?" Aimee approached arm in arm with Alexander, her movements polished and deliberate.

Her eyes flicked between Natalia and the middle-aged man, as though she had stumbled upon something scandalous. "You're certainly not wasting any time. But your standards have dropped, have they not? This is the kind of man you choose now?"

Every word carried unmistakable contempt.

Natalia did not dignify her with an answer. She merely glanced toward the man across from her.

He caught the signal instantly, rose from his seat, and left without hesitation.

Unwilling to let the moment pass, Aimee deliberately raised her voice. "Hey, do not rush off. If we are going to be family someday, should we not at least get acquainted?"

Alexander still remembered the slap from the day before, the phantom sting lingering on his cheek. Now that he saw Natalia cornered like this, his long-suppressed resentment finally surged to the surface.

A sneer twisted his lips. "Natalia, is this really the best you can manage now? When Aimee and I marry, she will bring the Gordon Group shares with her and step into my family with full status."

His gaze raked over Natalia, heavy with disdain and superiority. "I must have been blind to marry a useless country woman like you, someone who brings nothing to the table."

Shares?

A sharp thought flickered through Natalia's mind.

She remembered.

On the day she married three years ago, her grandmother had placed a document in her hands, explaining it had been left behind by her mother.

Back then, business meant nothing to her. She signed it without care and locked it away in the safe, never once revisiting it.

Her mother had died early, her father's identity forever unknown.

After her grandmother brought her back to the countryside, her mother's influence within the Gordon Group was steadily erased, while Melody Wallace and Cary Wallace, Aimee's parents, quietly took control.

That meant the shares her mother owned, along with the portion her grandmother intended for her, had long been claimed by the Wallace family.

A chill settled into Natalia's gaze.

What was hers would be taken back, slowly, deliberately, piece by piece.