Chapter 8
1456 Words
Darkness swallowed her completely.
Voices echoed somewhere far away, distant and muffled—like they came from underwater. Samantha felt weightless, suspended between reality and a dream she couldn't escape. Faces flickered in the shadows of her mind: Rick’s cold stare, Catriona’s smirk, her own hands trembling as she gripped the steering wheel.
Then—
The crash.
Metal twisting. Glass shattering. The world flipping upside down.
Pain.
And then…
Silence.
A heavy silence that made her believe she had died.
But suddenly, small sounds began to break through—beeping, soft mechanical clicks, distant footsteps, and the faintest scent of disinfectant.
Samantha slowly dragged her consciousness upward, toward the light.
Her eyelids fluttered.
A sharp flash burned her vision. She blinked, trying again. The blurry ceiling swam into view.
She was alive.
Barely—but alive.
She gasped sharply, her chest rising with effort. Panic rushed through her as she sat up slightly, only for a hand to press her shoulder gently back down.
“Careful.”
A voice. Deep. Calm. Controlled.
Samantha’s unfocused gaze shifted slowly toward the man sitting beside her bed. He leaned forward, his dark eyes fixed intensely on hers.
It took her a moment to realize he had been there for a long time. Waiting.
Watching.
Samantha swallowed hard, throat dry and aching.
“Wh… who are you?” she whispered hoarsely.
The man didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he studied her face carefully, almost as though searching for something—truth, recognition, identity.
Only then did he speak.
“My name is Vont Dela Vega,” he said quietly. “You were in a car accident.”
Images flashed in her mind—a pair of headlights, screeching tires, fear.
She winced at the memory.
“You’re safe now,” Vont continued. “We're in a hospital.”
Samantha let out a shaky breath, eyes darting around the room. Medical equipment surrounded her; her arm was wrapped with an IV line; her ribs throbbed with every breath.
“How… bad?” she managed to ask.
“You survived,” Vont said simply. “That’s what matters.”
His tone was neutral, but his gaze wasn’t. His gaze held an intensity that put her on edge.
Samantha licked her dry lips. “What… what happened to the other people? The ones in the other car?”
Vont stiffened almost imperceptibly.
“You were the only one in your vehicle,” he answered carefully. “And… the person in the other car—she didn’t make it.”
Samantha’s heart dropped.
Someone died.
Because of her.
Or worse—because Rick and Catriona wanted her dead.
Her breath trembled. “Who… who was she?”
“Alyanna,” Vont replied. “Alyanna Martinez.”
The name meant nothing to Samantha at first—until she noticed the way Vont’s jaw tensed, how his hands tightened on his thighs.
She frowned. “Do you… know her?”
Vont inhaled slowly. “Yes.”
There was so much weight in that single word, the kind that only came from pain, grief, and deep ties.
Samantha lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Vont didn’t respond.
Instead, he stood up and closed the door, locking it gently. Samantha’s brows knitted together.
When he returned to her bedside, his eyes were sharper—calculating, almost predatory. But not cruel.
Determined.
He pulled the chair closer and sat, leaning forward until their faces were only inches apart.
“I need you to listen very carefully,” he said.
Samantha swallowed hard. “Okay…”
“You’re alive,” Vont began, “but the world… believes you’re not.”
Samantha froze.
“What?” she whispered.
“The hospital identified the wrong person.”
Her heartbeat quickened. Her palms grew cold.
Vont continued:
“They think you are Alyanna Martinez—the woman from the other car. And they think Alyanna… is you. They took her body.” He paused. “Your wake is happening right now.”
Samantha’s lips parted in shock.
Her wake?
Her father?
Her husband?
Did they think she was gone?
“Wh-why didn’t anyone recognize me?” Samantha whispered.
Vont’s jaw clenched.
“Because you look exactly like her.”
Samantha’s mind spun. “But that doesn’t make sense—”
“No,” Vont said firmly, cutting her off. “It doesn’t. But it’s the truth. I saw the body myself.”
Samantha stared at him, utterly shaken.
Two women. Identical faces. One alive, one dead.
Samantha’s fingers trembled as she gripped the sheets.
“Why… why are you telling me this?” she asked.
Vont leaned back slightly, eyes never leaving hers.
“Because if this mistake comes out,” he said, “both of us will die. My father too.” His voice hardened. “Your husband? He won’t save you. He planned to kill you, didn’t he?”
Samantha’s blood ran cold.
“How—”
“That doesn’t matter,” Vont said. Not explaining any further.
Rick planned her death.
Catriona wanted her gone.
They wanted to erase her.
She was supposed to die that night.
But fate intervened.
Or something stranger.
And now… Samantha was suddenly someone else. Someone powerful. Someone important. Someone untouchable.
Alyanna Martinez.
A woman whose body lay in a coffin under Samantha’s name.
Vont leaned closer again, his voice low.
“No one can know you’re Samantha. If Alfonso Martinez discovers the truth—that you’re not his daughter but the woman who survived at her expense—we’re all dead.”
Samantha nodded slowly, absorbing every word.
“So what do you want from me?” she asked quietly.
Vont exhaled, tension in his shoulders softening slightly.
“I want you to pretend,” he said. “Pretend to be Alyanna. Pretend you lost your memories after the accident.”
Samantha’s breath caught.
“Pretend,” she repeated. “You expect me to become someone else?”
“I expect you,” Vont said, “to stay alive.”
Silence thickened the air.
Samantha processed everything, eyes unfocused, mind racing. Fear—rage—confusion—relief—everything twisted inside her like a storm.
Her husband wanted her dead.
Her father would choose Rick’s family over her.
She had nowhere to return to.
Her life—Samantha’s life—was gone.
But Alyanna’s…
Alyanna’s was just beginning.
A slow, dangerous smile formed on Samantha’s lips.
Not because she was happy—no.
Because she suddenly saw something she had never been given before.
Power.
Power to live.
Power to become someone new.
Power to destroy the two people who destroyed her.
Rick and Catriona.
“Oh…” Samantha whispered, realization filling her eyes. “Oh, this is perfect.”
Vont blinked. “Perfect?”
“Yes.” Her smile widened slightly. “They think I’m dead. My husband. His mistress. Everyone.” Her fingers curled, nails pressing into her palms. “This is my chance. My chance to end them the way they tried to end me.”
Vont studied her for a long moment, as if measuring her resolve.
“And?” he asked softly. “Will you do it?”
Samantha drew in a deep breath, straightened her posture, and nodded.
“Yes.”
Her voice was steady.
“Yes, I’ll pretend to be Alyanna.”
The tension in Vont’s body broke for the first time since her awakening. Relief spread across his face—quick, subtle, but unmistakable.
“Good,” he murmured.
Samantha tilted her head, watching him closely. “But in return…”
Vont raised a brow.
“You’ll help me,” she said. “You’ll help me destroy the two people who destroyed me.”
Vont didn’t flinch.
Instead, his lips curved into the faintest hint of a smirk.
“Deal.”
Their eyes locked—two strangers, bound by a shared secret, a shared danger, a shared future.
Vont stood, walking toward the door.
“I’ll bring the doctor,” he said. “When he comes in… you don’t remember anything.”
Samantha nodded.
No memories.
No past.
No Samantha.
Only Alyanna Martinez—reborn from tragedy.
As Vont reached for the door, Samantha spoke softly.
“Vont.”
He paused.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He didn’t turn around, but his voice carried a quiet weight.
“Don’t thank me yet. We’re just getting started.”
He stepped out, leaving Samantha alone with her racing thoughts.
She glanced at the mirror across the room.
The woman looking back at her wore bandages, bruises, and Alyanna Martinez’s face—but her eyes…
Her eyes belonged to someone who had been killed by the man she loved—
—and returned for revenge.
- Writer
