Part 3The Spare Whitaker Daughter

"Natalie, please," my mother whimpered, leaning against the car door. "Just give me the kidney. I know I wasn't always fair. I know I was hard on you. But it was because I was so sick after I had you… I was paralyzed for a year. I couldn't help but resent the pain you caused me."

The old script. The guilt she had fed me since I was five years old. She had carried twins, but somehow, all the physical toll was blamed on me, never Weston.

"I'm done," I said. I turned to get into the car.

"You're not going anywhere!" Weston lunged, grabbing my shoulder. I stumbled, the weight of his grip bruising my skin. As I tried to steady myself, Serena’s foot shot out, tripping me.

The bag slipped from my hand. The urn hit the pavement with a sickening crack.

The lid popped, and a cloud of grey ash spilled onto the dirty concrete.

Time stopped. I fell to my knees, frantically trying to scoop the remains back into the broken vessel, my coat getting stained with the dust of my father.

"Weston! Serena!" I screamed. I stood up and leveled a blow at Weston’s face, then turned and struck Serena. The cracks of my palm against their skin were the only sounds in the sudden silence of the alley.

Weston’s eyes turned murderous. "You dead-beat bitch," he growled, raising his fist.

"Natalie," Serena hissed, her voice low and venomous. "The Landros family won't accept a bride with a missing organ. You’re already ruined. Just go to the clinic. Get rid of the brat and give up the kidney."

She shoved me hard, sending me sprawling toward the ground again.

"What do you think you're doing?" Marcus yelled, trying to intervene, but Weston’s friends held him back.

"Blackwood's wife?" Weston laughed into his phone camera. "Look at her. Natalie, you’re an actress. You really thought you could pull off the 'wealthy socialite' act? Dad always said you were the one who knew how to manipulate people. He even spent his last moments alone with you just so he wouldn't have to look at us."

He turned the phone toward me as I sat in the dirt. "Live, everyone! Watch the fall of the fake Mrs. Blackwood!"

I pulled my phone from my pocket. My voice was a low, dangerous rasp. "Weston, turn off the stream. Now. Or the Blackwood family will erase you."

"Erase me? With what? Hudson’s mistress?" He laughed, checking his notifications. "Wait… what’s this?"

Serena gasped, her phone lit up in her hand. "Weston… shut it down. The Blackwood Group just issued a press release."