Chapter 5
1406 Words
“F*ck!”
The word ripped out of Vont Dela Vega’s throat as the world lurched sideways. Metal shrieked, glass exploded, and the steering wheel jarred violently beneath his palms. The airbag detonated against his chest, knocking the breath out of him. It felt like being punched by a giant fist.
For three seconds, the entire world was white noise—impact, smoke, the faint scent of burnt rubber, and a ringing in his ears so sharp it made his vision blur.
Then it hit him.
“Alyanna—!”
He whipped his head to the passenger seat, heart slamming against his ribs.
Alyanna Martinez wasn’t moving.
Her forehead was split open, blood trailing down her temple, staining her blouse, soaking into the leather seat beneath her. Her long lashes were still, her lips parted slightly from the impact.
“Fck! Alyanna! I told you to wear a seatbelt, you hardheaded btch!” His voice cracked.
He reached for her, trembling fingers brushing her cheek. She was warm—thank God—but limp.
Too limp.
Fear shot through him like electricity.
Alyanna Martinez. The most spoiled princess in the country. The one and only daughter of Alfonso Martinez—the richest and most powerful man in the nation. A man who owned everything from construction empires to government connections. A man feared and respected equally.
A man who trusted Vont enough to place his daughter under his care.
A man who would kill him if anything happened to her.
Vont’s throat dried. His hands shook.
“Come on, Aly… breathe. Please just breathe.” He brushed away the blood dripping down her cheek, making his own hands slick and red. “Stay with me, okay? Don’t make me the dead one after this.”
His phone was already in his hand before he consciously reached for it. His thumb fumbled on the screen, but he managed to press the emergency button.
“Hello? W-we were in an accident. Two—two cars. My passenger is badly hurt. Please—she’s bleeding everywhere—please send an ambulance!”
He gave the details with shaking breath.
His ears rang with panic. His heart thumped so hard it felt like it would burst.
He had always been a responsible driver. Always. He’d driven Alyanna to countless malls, parties, hotels, trips—all because her father trusted him more than he trusted his own cousins. But trust meant nothing when another car came flying out of nowhere onto the road like a bullet spinning out of control.
He looked out the cracked windshield. The other car—Samantha’s—was smashed head-on against theirs. Smoke curled from the hood. The front was crushed like an accordion.
Vont’s stomach dropped.
Did… did he kill someone?
Before he could think further, sirens wailed in the distance. Relief flooded him so fast he nearly slumped back in his seat.
But then Alyanna let out a weak groan.
“Sh*t, Alyanna, hey—hey! Stay with me!” he begged, patting her cheek lightly. Her eyes fluttered for a split second before rolling back.
No. No, no, no.
When the paramedics arrived, he was pushed aside, questions thrown at him that he barely registered. They placed Alyanna on a stretcher, strapped her down, and stabilized her head. The blood didn’t stop. Vont felt faint seeing how much she had lost.
“What about the other driver?” one paramedic said.
Another voice answered, “Female, around mid-twenties. Pulse is very faint—hurry!”
Others were shouting, rushing, loading them into separate ambulances.
And then everything went black.
When Vont woke up, it was to the harsh scent of disinfectant.
His eyes snapped open. A white ceiling. A beeping heart monitor. A dull ache pulsed across his ribs, shoulder, and forehead. But none of that mattered.
Where was Alyanna?
He jerked upright, wincing at the sudden spike of pain, and saw a nurse bent over his chart.
“How’s Alyanna?” he demanded instantly, breath shallow.
The nurse blinked in surprise. “The woman who was with you, sir?”
“Yes! Alyanna! Is she alive? Is she okay?”
Her lips softened into a reassuring smile. “She survived the accident, sir. She’s recovering in the next room.”
Vont’s heart finally unclenched. He exhaled shakily, leaning forward, elbows digging into his thighs.
Thank God.
Thank God.
If Alyanna had died… he wouldn’t just lose his job—he’d lose his life. Alfonso Martinez would bury him and his entire family six feet under. The man was not known for forgiveness.
Ignoring the pain tugging at his ribs, Vont swung his legs off the bed and stood up.
“Sir, please stay still,” the nurse said, startled when he brushed past her. “Your body hasn’t fully—sir!”
He didn’t listen.
He had to see her. He had to see with his own two eyes that his best friend—spoiled, loud, reckless Alyanna—was truly alive.
The hallway swayed for a moment and he grabbed the wall to steady himself. His vision blurred at the edges, but he forced himself forward.
Two steps.
Five steps.
Finally he reached the room the nurse had pointed at.
His hand trembled as he twisted the knob and stepped inside.
What he saw made him freeze.
Lying in the hospital bed was a woman… but something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
She had Alyanna’s face.
But not Alyanna’s essence.
She looked unbelievably fragile—angelic features bruised, lips pale, hair splayed across the pillow like a dark waterfall. She looked like Alyanna… but not Alyanna.
It was like staring at a mirror image with something essential missing.
“Who the hell are you…?” Vont whispered, unable to stop the words from slipping out.
She looked like Alyanna, yes—but he had known Alyanna from the age of five. He knew every sarcastic tilt of her chin, every dramatic roll of her eyes, every spoiled pout she used to manipulate people.
The woman on the bed had none of that.
Her expression was too soft. Too peaceful. Too unfamiliar.
“What—?”
The nurse who followed him inside frowned. “Sir, what’s wrong?”
Vont didn’t tear his eyes away. “Who is this woman?”
The nurse blinked. “Sir… this is Miss Alyanna Martinez. The one who was with you in the accident.”
Vont’s eyes hardened.
“That’s not Alyanna.”
The nurse looked startled. “Sir?”
He finally turned to her. “I know Alyanna Martinez. I practically lived in her house. I’ve seen her almost every day for the last twenty years. And I’m telling you—this isn’t her.”
“Sir, maybe you hit your head—”
“I’m not confused,” he snapped.
His chest tightened. Sweat beaded his forehead.
“THIS. Isn’t. Her.”
The nurse’s brows knitted tightly. Her expression shifted from confusion… to concern… to something like fear.
“What about the other car?” Vont asked suddenly. “The woman who was driving the vehicle that hit us. Where is she? I want to see her.”
The nurse hesitated. “I… I don’t think you should—”
“Where. Is. She?”
The nurse swallowed. Slowly. Uneasily.
“She was brought in as well… but…” Her voice softened, “She was dead on arrival, sir.”
Vont’s body turned cold.
His mind raced through the crash, replaying every detail.
The look—just a flash—of pure terror on the woman’s face as their headlights collided.
He pressed a hand to his forehead.
Something felt wrong.
So wrong.
“If the driver of the other car is dead…” he murmured, staring again at the angelic stranger lying in Alyanna’s assigned hospital bed, “then who the hell is this woman?”
She looked exactly as Alyanna, but something was telling him that she wasn't her.
The nurse looked at him confused. The woman lying in the bed looked exactly as the woman named Alyanna, but Vont was saying it wasn't his friend.
"Sir, I think you need rest," the nurse said.
He stepped back, breath unsteady.
He wasn’t just in a car accident.
He was in the middle of something twisted—something he didn’t understand yet.
Something that smelled like danger.
Something that would change everything.
- Writer
