Only then did I realize—I hadn't run into a man, but a short-haired woman.
Her features bore a striking resemblance to mine.
"It’s you?!"
Her expression mirrored Mikhail’s earlier shock. Just as I was about to say something, my father’s voice called out from inside the car.
"Tatiana, what’s going on?"
Tiana... wasn’t that my name?
"It’s nothing, Dad. My period just started—I need to use the restroom. You all go ahead."
The woman called Tatiana subtly signaled her subordinates with a glance.
They understood instantly and grabbed me before I could react.
I barely had time to scream before my mouth was sealed shut with duct tape.
By the time I was dragged, bound, and thrown into Tatiana's room, Mikhail had also arrived.
Tatiana took a slow sip of water, her eyes cold.
"Mikhail, did you bring her here?"
Mikhail looked visibly tense. "I don’t know how she got here, Tatiana. I was planning to send her away tomorrow."
"So you’re telling me... You recognized her from the start but chose to keep it from me?"
Tatiana’s grip tightened on the glass—then, with a swift motion, she hurled it at Mikhail’s head.
The sound of shattering glass echoed through the room.
Mikhail trembled and dropped to his knees.
"I was wrong... I shouldn’t have hidden it from you."
I didn’t understand their relationship, but at least the duct tape on my mouth had loosened.
"Why do you call yourself Tatiana? Are you my father’s daughter?"
Upon hearing my words, Tatiana’s face twisted with rage.
"Don’t you dare call him Dad! He’s my father! Mine and mine alone!"
Her furious scream rang in my ears like an explosion.
Then, my eyes fell on the burn scar on her neck—and in that instant, everything became clear.
I had a butterfly-shaped birthmark on my neck.
My mother once warned me never to let anyone see it.
I left Moscow when I was five. Back then, my mother only told me she wanted to leave.
But now I understood—she must have discovered my father’s illegal activities and fled to protect me.
After returning to our homeland, she gave up acting entirely, ensuring that my father could never find us.
And this woman, Tatiana...
She must have used that scar to impersonate me.
"Tiana"—that was the name my mother gave me. It meant ‘joy.’
But "Tatiana"—that was just a common name for women in Moscow.
My father must have loved her enough to let her keep her original name.
"So that’s it. You’re the imposter." My voice was icy. She had stolen my identity, and now, my mere existence threatened to unravel the life she had built.
"Shut up! Why aren’t you dead? Why did you have to come back and ruin my life?!" she screamed.
"Enough. Just send her back to her country, and this will all be over."
Mikhail spoke up at last, trying to calm Tatiana down.
"Send her back? Did you see how she showed up here just now? She was clearly aiming for Dad!" Tatiana snapped.
Obviously, she wasn’t fooled. Her panic quickly gave way to calculated malice.
Glaring at Mikhail, she continued, "You said you already had her locked up, and she still escaped. We should just break her legs to be safe."
As she spoke, she waved her hand. Her men obeyed without hesitation, grabbing me again.
The tall guard—the same one who had been punished earlier—picked up a baseball bat and walked toward me with a cruel smile.
"Well, well, it turns out you really are the real ‘daughter’ after all. But now, you’re at my mercy."
I turned my furious gaze to Mikhail.
We grew up together.
We had once been childhood friends.
And yet, now, he stood silent.
As if sensing my stare, he turned his head away, unwilling to meet my eyes.
"Mikhail!" Tatiana sneered, her voice dripping with sadistic delight.
"Look at her. Watch as I destroy the woman you once loved."
Tatiana grabbed Mikhail’s face, forcing him to look directly at me.
The tall guard was already eager to strike, and the moment Tatiana saw that Mikhail wasn’t resisting, she gave a signal.
The baton came down.
"Ah—!"
A sharp pain shot through my leg, cold sweat beading on my forehead. I hadn't expected him to hit so hard.
"Mikhail, should we continue?"
Tatiana’s voice was teasing, but Mikhail didn’t even move—not even to shake his head.
"You’re truly heartless, Mikhail," I spat the words at him, but before I could say anything more, the tall guard had already slapped a thick layer of industrial tape over my mouth.
Tatiana smirked as she took in my pathetic state, watching me struggle to stay upright.
"Oh dear, still so defiant? Did you really think Mikhail would save you?"
She turned to him and caressed his face, then planted a deliberate kiss on his lips.
"Let me tell you something—he’s my fiancé now."
Then, another hand signal.
"Aaahhh—!"
This time, the blow was merciless. The pain was so intense that I couldn’t even scream properly.
They finally let go of me, and I collapsed onto the ground, completely unable to move.
Mikhail, unable to watch any longer, pulled out an old, worn-out pistol and pointed it at me.
"Enough. Let’s end this. If the chairman shows up, we’ll have a problem."
I squeezed my eyes shut.
So this was it.
Death.
I braced myself, waiting for the inevitable—but then, a voice came from the doorway.
"Tatiana, my dear daughter, how are you feeling?"
