Chapter Four: Another Woman’s Face

Isla POV

“Miss Virelli.” The doctor’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. “Has it been arranged?”

“Yes,” I said. “The arrangements have been made.”

He gave a short nod. “We’ll transfer her once the bill is sorted.”

“I see you’ve made up your mind,” Vivienne said as the doctor walked away.

“I’m only taking this offer because of Naomi. Nothing else.”

“You don’t have to worry. The money for her care here will be deposited immediately. The rest comes after you sign the contract.” She stood and smoothed the front of her suit. “My driver will pick you up tomorrow morning. I’ll be waiting.”

A nurse called me over to confirm the deposit Vivienne had already made. Everything was arranged. After sorting the bills and collecting the medications, exhaustion finally caught up with me. I leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes.

—————————————————————————————

A hand touched my shoulder.

“Miss Virelli.”

I was still in the waiting area. The hallway lights had been dimmed. The doctor stood in front of me.

“How is she?” I asked.

“She has been moved and her medications have been given.” He looked tired. “There’s still damage to several organs from the gunshot. She’ll need close monitoring over the coming weeks. But we’re hopeful.”

Hopeful. Not a promise. But it was enough.

“Can I see her?”

“Yes. She’s in the ICU.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

I found the ICU at the end of the corridor and pushed the door open. Naomi lay still on the bed. A bandage wrapped around her head. A nasal mask covered her face while monitors beeped beside her.

I wrapped my fingers around hers, hoping some part of her could hear me. “Naomi!”

A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. “I promise I’ll fix this.”

I stayed in the chair beside her through the night, watching the numbers on the monitor. The contract folder was still in my hands. Signing it meant giving away my freedom. Not signing it meant risking her life. I stared at the signature line for a long time.

—————————————————————————————

Sunlight woke me. My head rested on the edge of her bed. She still looked fragile. Her brown skin had gone dull, and even her short curls seemed weaker.

“You’d better wake up soon,” I whispered. “You still owe me that dinner.” She didn’t answer. I forced a smile. “Don’t make me eat alone.”

A nurse walked in with her medications. I looked at Naomi one last time, then quietly left.

Outside, a man in a tailored uniform and driving cap approached me.

“Good morning, ma’am.” He removed his cap and gave a slight bow. “My name is Matthew. Mrs Hargrove sent me.”

“Good morning.”

He led me to a black Rolls-Royce waiting at the curb and opened the back door. I still hadn’t changed out of yesterday’s clothes. My shoulder ached under the bandage, and dried blood stained my sleeve.

Matthew handed me a paper bag containing a cream-colored dress, a wide-brimmed hat, and a pair of low heels. Then he drove me to an upscale salon.

“She’d like your hair done before you arrive,” he said.

No one at the salon asked about the bandage or the state of my clothes. An hour later, my dark hair fell in loose curls at my collarbone and I had changed into the dress. The woman in the mirror looked nothing like the one who had slept beside a hospital bed. I touched my cheek once, just to make sure it was still me.

The drive took nearly another hour. The city thinned into quiet roads and tall trees until a pair of wrought-iron gates swung open. Beyond them stretched perfect gardens and a large fountain in front of a mansion that looked more like a private hotel than a home. Staff waited at the bottom of the staircase.

Matthew opened my door. “This way, ma’am.”

I climbed the wide steps. An older woman in a navy dress with a silver brooch at her collar met me at the top.

“Shall we? Mrs. Hargrove is waiting for you.”

—————————————————————————————

Vivienne sat behind a heavy mahogany desk. Pearls rested against a soft pink dress. She gestured to the chair across from her.

“I see you’ve met Margaret. She’ll attend to whatever you need during your stay.”

Margaret stood just behind her chair.

“Elias is staying at the hospital for a few days for his check-up,” Vivienne continued.

“You said Naomi’s treatment would continue,” I said. “You’re certain?”

“I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep.” She tapped the desk. “The folder.”

I slid it across to her. She checked the pages, then picked up a silver pen and signed.

“You made the right choice.” She looked up. “The deal is sealed. Congratulations, Isla.”

“When will the remaining payment for Naomi be made?”

“You don’t need to worry about that.” She slipped the papers back into the folder. “From this moment on, every action you take reflects on the Hargrove family… and your friend.”

She held out her hand. “I need your phone.”

“Why?”

“You’ll use this one instead.” She handed me a new phone. “It has Celeste’s old number. Everything you do here is for the Hargrove family and my son.”

“I can work with my own phone.”

“Miss Virelli.” Her voice hardened slightly. “You do as I say. Are we clear?”

“Yes.” I handed over my phone.

“Margaret will show you to your room.”

—————————————————————————————

Margaret led me downstairs to the first floor. She stopped at the third door on the right and opened it. The room was wide, with a large bed, a huge dressing mirror, and an open terrace. Pictures of Celeste covered the walls. Several frames of her with Elias sat on the dressing table.

“I’ll leave you to settle in,” Margaret said, placing a thick binder on the table. “Mrs. Hargrove wants you to go through these while he’s away.” She closed the door behind her.

I stood in the middle of the room, staring at the photos. It was strange seeing someone else wearing my face. I picked up one of the frames Celeste and Elias smiling together… and studied it for a moment before setting it down.

I walked to the wardrobe and opened it. Her clothes were elegant, expensive, and nothing like my usual style. I closed the door and sat on the bed with the binder. Page after page of notes, habits, preferences, and photographs. I flipped through them slowly, then closed the binder and walked toward the terrace.

This was my life now.

—————————————————————————————

Two days passed. Media teams gathered outside the estate, trying to get a glimpse of me. Vivienne kept me away from them. She said I wasn’t ready for the press yet and needed media training first.

Margaret worked with me on posture, speech, and mannerisms, turning me into the version of Celeste they wanted. But there was still nothing about her family or background in any of the files. I didn’t push for answers. This was just another job. Do it, then disappear. No attachments.

That night, I tried calling the hospital using a number I had managed to save earlier. No one answered. I tried again. Still nothing.

I dropped the phone on the bed. A moment later, it rang. I answered without checking the number.

“Hello?”

Silence. Then a man’s voice, low and unfamiliar.

“Celeste.”

The call ended before I could speak. No caller ID.

This was Celeste's old line. Probably someone had reached out to her on hearing she had been back. But who was it?

It had to be someone with her old number. A friend? Family?

I stared at the screen until it dimmed. A knock sounded at the door. I nearly dropped the phone.

Margaret stepped inside.

“Are you ready?” she asked with a small smile. “Mr. Elias is back.”