Rejected: A love story-Chapter 128: As far as she’s concerned, she’s Viktoria

The SUV rolled to a stop at the back entrance of the government building.

Natasha stepped out of the car, her breath visible in the cold Moscow air. She pulled her coat tighter around herself, her sharp gaze fixed on the security gate ahead.

Her phone rang, and she answered immediately. "We’re here. Open the gate."

Seconds later, the gate was opened by a man in a security uniform. He glanced nervously at Natasha, avoiding eye contact as he waved the SUV through. He was their inside man, a low-level employee who’d been paid more than he’d ever see in his lifetime to keep his mouth shut.

Natasha didn’t spare him a glance as she walked past. "Bring the body," she ordered, her voice full of command.

Two of her men stepped out of the SUV and opened the trunk. Viktoria’s lifeless body, Fiona, who was still unconscious and bruised, was carried from the backseat. Natasha led the way as they moved quickly through the building’s dimly lit corridors.

Natasha stopped outside a heavy metal door marked Restricted Access.

She knocked twice, and the door swung open. Inside, and the first thing they saw was Viktoria’s lifeless body that was placed on the table, her pale face exposed as the tarp was pulled back. Fiona was laid on a second table, her head lolling to the side.

A man in scrubs stepped forward, his gloved hands hovering over Viktoria’s body. He was tall and thin, with a sharp face and tired eyes. "You’re late," he said, his voice flat.

Natasha shot him a look that could kill. "Traffic. Is everything ready?"

The man nodded, gesturing to a cart filled with tools. "The paperwork is filed. Viktoria’s death is recorded as accidental, Once the swap is complete, there won’t be anything left to connect them."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "That’s what I’m paying you for. Now get to work."

The man didn’t respond. He pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and leaned over Viktoria’s body, inspecting her face closely. "Her hair needs to match," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "And the bruises... they don’t line up perfectly. I’ll fix it."

Natasha crossed her arms, watching him work. "Make sure it’s convincing. If anyone suspects this isn’t Fiona, you’ll regret it."

The man didn’t flinch at her threat. He grabbed a small bottle of dye from the cart and began carefully applying it to Viktoria’s hair, darkening it to match Fiona’s. Once he was satisfied, he moved on to the bruises, using makeup and prosthetics to mimic the injuries on Fiona’s face. The process was slow and meticulous, every detail checked and rechecked.

One of Natasha’s men stepped forward, his hand resting on his weapon. "How long is this going to take?"

Natasha held up a hand, silencing him. "Let him work. This has to be perfect."

The man in scrubs continued without looking up. "The authorities will find her and identify her as Fiona. There won’t be any questions." He paused, glancing at Natasha. "Unless you’ve left loose ends."

Natasha’s jaw tightened. "I don’t leave loose ends."

The man shrugged and returned to his work. He pulled out a small needle and began injecting fluid into Viktoria’s lips, adjusting their shape to match Fiona’s. Then he moved to her hands, using a laser tool to mimic the scars on Fiona’s knuckles. Every movement was precise.

Meanwhile, Fiona remained unconscious on the second table, her chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. Natasha walked over to her, her heels clicking on the tiled floor. She stared down at Fiona’s battered face, her lips curling into a smirk.

"You always thought you were smarter than me," Natasha said quietly, more to herself than anyone else. "Always in my way, always trying to take what’s mine. But this is where it ends. You’re Viktoria now, and no one will ever know the truth."

The man in scrubs glanced up. "The serum is working. She’ll stay unconscious for a few more hours, and when she wakes up, she won’t remember anything. As far as she’s concerned, she’s Viktoria."

Natasha nodded, satisfied. "Good. Leave her here. I want her monitored until she wakes up. If anything goes wrong, it’s your head."

The man didn’t respond. He finished altering Viktoria’s body, then stepped back to examine his work. "It’s done. She’s ready."

Natasha walked over to Viktoria’s lifeless form, inspecting the changes. Her hair was identical to Fiona’s, her bruises perfectly matched, and her features were unmistakably similar. It was almost eerie how convincing the transformation was.

Natasha lips curved in a smirk as she turned to one of her men. "Make sure there’s nothing left to trace her back to us."

The man nodded and left the room. Natasha turned back to the man in scrubs. "And the body?"

"It’ll be found tomorrow," he said. "The authorities will identify her as Fiona, and the case will be closed."

Natasha smirked. "Perfect. Now clean this up. I don’t want any loose ends."

Her men lifted Viktoria’s body off the table, carefully wrapping it back in the tarp.

Natasha stood by the door, watching as the man in scrubs—clearly experienced in this kind of work—finished adjusting Viktoria’s body. Her men had already carried the corpse out, leaving only Fiona on the table.

The man turned back to Natasha, wiping his gloved hands on a towel. "If the family’s coming for the autopsy, she’ll need to look convincingly dead."

Natasha narrowed her eyes. "You’re the professional. Make it happen."

He nodded and reached for a small vial of clear liquid on his cart. "This will slow her heart rate and lower her body temperature. She’ll appear dead to anyone who checks, but she’ll still be stable. It’ll last about twelve hours, long enough for them to believe she’s Viktoria before they take her."

Natasha crossed her arms, watching as he filled a syringe. "And you’re sure there won’t be any complications?"

The man gave her a dry look. "If there are, she’ll actually die. But I know what I’m doing." He moved to Fiona’s side, carefully tilting her arm to find a vein. "She won’t wake up during the autopsy, if that’s what you’re worried about."

Natasha smirked faintly. "Good. That would be... inconvenient."

The man injected Fiona with the serum, his movements quick and precise. Natasha watched as Fiona’s breathing slowed, her chest barely rising and falling now. The color drained slightly from her face, giving her the pale, lifeless appearance of someone who had truly passed away.

"She’ll pass any basic examination," the man said, stepping back. "To the family, she’ll look like their Viktoria. And once they take her, it’s out of your hands."

Natasha tilted her head, studying Fiona’s motionless form. "What about the autopsy? They brought her here for answers. If they cut her open—"

"They won’t," the man interrupted. "The family’s not here for the truth. They’re here for closure. They want to hear that their daughter died in an accident, nothing more. I’ll handle the report."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly will your report say?"

"That she died on impact," he replied smoothly, pulling off his gloves. "No foul play, no lingering questions. Just a tragic car crash. It’s what they want to hear."

Natasha nodded slowly, satisfied. "Make sure it’s convincing. If they suspect anything, this entire plan falls apart."

The man didn’t respond, already moving to clean up his tools. Natasha turned to one of her men, who had been standing silently by the door. "Stay here until the family arrives. I want to know the moment they take her."

"Yes, ma’am," the man said, his hand resting on the weapon at his side.

Natasha took one last look at Fiona, lying still and pale on the table. The fiery, defiant woman she had fought against for so long was gone, replaced by a lifeless body that would soon be buried under someone else’s name.

"Let’s go," Natasha said, turning sharply on her heel. Her remaining men followed her out of the morgue, their footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.