Your family had a reputation for being reserved, rich people who didn't share more than what was important, even with those close to them, but well, maybe you were the complete opposite of this stereotype. Sentimental, fragile and didn't know how to set limits, often letting people take advantage of you.

That was one of the reasons your parents signed you up for a self-defense class, because their words, crying or asking for help wouldn't stop them from stabbing you in the back. Overall, they wanted to teach you a lesson, and there was nothing better than the black widow herself, experienced in this kind of subject, and your father's right-hand, to teach you how to be less stupid.

"You're late, if this was a meeting that depended on your life you'd be dead." Natasha muttered as you stepped through the door, a grimace running from her downturned lips to her furrowed eyebrows as she leaned against the wall, her arms well crossed above her chest.