HER FACE, MY WIFE'S SHADOW

Chapter 12: Almost Free (I)

Aria’s POV

If Alexander arrived before I could vanish, the doors of this gilded cage would lock forever. I hadn't prepared for him to return so soon.

As I stood there, trembling, the old woman I had defended earlier took my hand. Her eyes were bright with surprise and profound relief.

"My child," she whispered. "I believe that bad things don't happen to good people. When I heard the news of your death years ago, I was heartbroken. You were always so kind and lovely."

I blinked. Her words were at odds with everything I had heard. If Isabella was the monster, Alexander’s mother had claimed, why did this woman stare at me like I was a saint?

Was Isabella a master of disguise, or was Mr Sterling telling the truth?

I don't care.

"Excuse me, ma'am," I said gently, pulling away.

I couldn't deal with her gratitude – not when I was wearing a dead woman’s face like a mask.

I hurried back to the room where Mila waited.

Outside, I could see the silhouettes of Alexander’s men guarding the hospital like sentries.

"Doc, we are leaving. Now!" I announced.

"But Mr Sterling’s men are everywhere.”

"Then we changed the plan." My gaze shifted to the two nurses who were terrified.

…………..

Two nurses in clinical scrubs stepped out of the room.

I kept my head lowered, balancing a tray of medical equipment in my hands while my pulse thundered wildly in my ears. We walked with measured steps, heading to the elevator.

We were almost there when I slammed into a solid, broad chest. My tray clattered to the floor, instruments scattering with a deafening ring.

A scent hit me – familiar and expensive.

I kept my chin tucked down, lashes casting long shadows. My body reacted before my mind caught up, stepping back into a slight, defensive crouch I didn't know I knew.

"I'm sorry, Miss. Are you okay?" Alexander’s voice rang in my ear, looking at my bowed head.

Thank God the white mask hid half of my face, and my hair was tucked tightly beneath a nurse’s cap.

He reached down to help, but I flinched away impulsively.

He paused and I felt his gaze sharpen on me.

Then, completely shattering tension, loud, chaotic shouting erupted outside the hospital.

“Mrs Isabella Sterling!”

“Isabella Grey! ”

“Mr Sterling, please, bring your wife out; let's interview her!”

"Yes, Mr Sterling, and we have questions for her!”

“Mr Sterling!”

“Mrs Isabella!”

The noise turned into chaos.

Alexander turned towards the windows, and I risked a glance outside to see a huge crowd gathering beyond the gates, reporters pushing microphones while cameras flashed endlessly.

Guards struggled to hold them back from storming the hospital entrance.

Oh God, the media are already here. Now these crazy people will make my escape difficult.

Alexander slowly turned, looking back at me again.

Please, God… Don't let him recognise me. Just this once.

He came closer, so close that his shoulder brushed against mine as his attention snapped towards the room where we had exited moments earlier.

Only then did I finally breathe out. Relief nearly made my knees buckle.

I quickly crouched to gather the scattered instruments and signalled Mila to keep moving. Together, we slipped outside, reaching the gate.

The media surged violently against the guards.

“We want to see Isabella Grey right now!”

“Yes! Let us see her!”

As their voices were crashing over each other, I kept my head low, carefully walking through the crowd with Mila close behind me.

The reporters were too consumed by the spectacle at the entrance to pay attention to two nurses passing through them.

Then… the alarm was raised.

"There! Stop them!"

“Madam is running away.”

Everything exploded into motion as the reporters turned towards us instantly, cameras rising like weapons as curious eyes locked onto mine.

Questions and shouts came from every angle, but Alexander’s men came in between us before anyone could get close enough to pull off my mask.

We ran while footsteps came after us. One of the guards came forward, reaching to hold my shoulder.

I felt a strange click in my brain. It was like a switch being flipped.

The world slowed down. I noticed everything at once: the way his movement was distributed, the opening in his stance, and the lack of balance.

He reached for my arm again. This time, I didn't shrink. I twisted hard, my body moving with fluidity and practised grace, my palm slamming against his chest.

Pain shot violently up my arm from the impact, but the force still sent him stumbling backwards into another guard.

"Aria, look out!" Mila screamed.

Two men seized her instantly, dragging her. I reacted without thinking. My leg swung upward in a roundhouse kick aimed at the first man’s ribs.

My shin connected with a dull thud, but the force nearly threw me off balance.

I staggered sideways, catching myself against a concrete pillar while the second guard adjusted quickly, his hand moving towards his belt.

"What the hell…" A guard grunted, surprised by the resistance.

I turned to see the stunned expression on the reporters’ faces, raising their phones and cameras pointing directly at me now, recording everything.

Damn it!

My hand flew to my mask in relief when I realised it was still covering my face.

Then an unknown man, not wearing the uniform of Alexander’s men, came faster than the others, his hand clamping onto my throat.

For a second, I couldn't breathe. Then, a memory flashed through my mind: a hand on a neck, a thumb pressed against a nerve.

My body moved on instinct as I held his wrist, twisting sharply and driving my fingers into a pressure point with brutal, agonising precision.

He screamed in pain, his grip loosening. I kicked him back with every strength I had left.

The stance felt familiar, as though I'd stood this way hundreds of times before. Yet I couldn't remember ever learning it.

"Aria!"

Alexander’s voice thundered across the pavement.