Chapter 33: Motherly eye
~a day earlier~
The glow of television screens lit up living rooms and bar counters across the country, showing the same shaky footage over and over again.
On a morning news broadcast, two anchors sat behind a curved glass desk, a freeze-frame of a black Jeep parked on an airfield tarmac floating on the screen behind them.
"If you’re just joining us, these images were captured less than two hours ago at the private terminal," the female anchor said, leaning forward.
"After days of quiet rumors regarding the state of her marriage, Isabella Kingston, or rather, Isabella Carter, was seen leaving the country alongside Russian billionaire Aaron Kazarov."
Her co-anchor shook his head, holding a stack of papers.
"And what makes this truly astounding is the direct contradiction to the brief statement given by Kian Carter just yesterday, where he assured the public that any marital disputes were being handled privately at home. Looking at these videos, that doesn’t seem to be the case."
The screen cut to the video clip. A camera zoomed in through the morning haze. The heavy door of the vehicle opened, and the shouting of off-screen reporters leaked through the broadcast speakers.
Aaron Kazarov stepped out first, tall and calm, pulling a small, fragile woman out behind him.
She was buried inside a massive black coat, her face hidden until he paused on the tarmac, gently pulling the collar tight around her neck and pressing a kiss to her cheek.
The online world had already completely shattered over it.
Twitter feeds refreshed every second with thousands of new posts. Clips of the cheek kiss were looping on TikTok, paired with bold captions debating whether it was a dramatic rescue or a high-society betrayal.
Comment sections were divided down the middle, some people accused Isabella of running off, while others pointed out how exhausted she looked, insisting Aaron was pulling her out of something terrible.
Through all the noise, one thing was clear to everyone watching: the marriage was dead, and the public cover-up had failed completely.
At the gates of the Kingston estate, the air didn’t smell like pine trees or fresh morning air. It smelled like burnt rubber, cold sweat, and wet earth.
A sleek red car pulled up to the main entrance, passing right by a shattered wrought-iron gate that hung off its hinges.
Alice sat in the driver’s seat, her fingers lightly tapping against the leather steering wheel. She wore a tailored dark dress that fit her carefully.
She looked through the windshield, a small, satisfied smile touching her lips before she smoothed her face into something far more neutral.
She stepped out of the car, her heels clicking softly against the driveway.
The estate looked as if a small storm had blown straight through it. Deep tire tracks were carved into the manicured front lawn, turning the green grass into dark, messy mud.
Off to the side, two private security guards were sitting on the low stone wall of a fountain, one of them holding a thick wad of white gauze to his bleeding arm while a paramedic wrapped his shoulder.
Alice walked up the front marble steps, stepping over a small pile of broken glass near the tall double doors.
Inside, the grand foyer was dead quiet. The air felt heavy and cold. Servants were quietly sweeping up wood splinters near the heavy side doors, their heads bowed low, speaking only in hushed whispers.
None of them looked at her as she walked past. They all looked shaken, like people who had spent the morning hiding in dark closets while loud men tore through their home.
Near the bottom of the curved staircase stood Luke.
The head of security looked terrible. His suit jacket was gone, his white shirt was stained with dirt, and a thick butterfly bandage held together a nasty cut right above his left eyebrow.
He was listening to a guard give him a quiet report, his arms crossed tight over his chest, his jaw set like stone.
When he caught sight of Alice, his eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t say a word. He just turned his head back to his guard, ignoring her completely.
Alice didn’t care. She kept walking, turning down the long, carpeted hallway toward the domestic quarters.
Near the back kitchen, the heavy wooden door swung open, and Aria stepped out holding a tray of warm tea.
Her mother looked calm, her hair tied up in its usual neat bun, her gray maid’s dress without a single wrinkle. But when her eyes met Alice’s, she paused, setting the tray down on a small side table.
Aria walked over, taking her daughter by the arms and drawing her into a soft, brief hug.
"You came quickly," Aria murmured, her voice warm and sweet, the exact same voice she had used for twenty years whenever she tucked Isabella into bed.
She pulled back, looking at her daughter’s face with a gentle, motherly eye. "I was worried they wouldn’t leave."
"I came as soon as I saw the news," Alice said softly, leaning her head closer. "Are you hurt, Mama?"
"No, child. I hid in the pantry until it was over," Aria replied gently. She reached out, smoothing a strand of hair behind Alice’s ear. Then, her voice dropped just a fraction, so low it couldn’t possibly carry to the servants down the hall. "And her?"
Alice stared into her mother’s eyes. There was no pity in Aria’s face. No sadness for the girl she had raised from a baby. Just a quiet, flat waiting.
"Gone," Alice whispered. "She was seen at the airport with him. It’s everywhere."
A small, almost invisible breath left Aria’s nose. "Everything happened faster than we expected."
"It’s better this way," Alice said, a tiny edge of excitement bleeding into her tone. "It saves us the trouble."
Aria gave a single, quiet nod, her face instantly melting back into that soft, tired motherly expression as a servant walked past them carrying a basket of dirty towels.
Aria turned to the servant with a warm, comforting smile, telling the girl to take a break and rest her feet.
Once the servant was out of sight, Alice looked toward the grand staircase. "Where is he?"
"In his study," Aria said quietly, taking up her tea tray again. "He hasn’t come out since he got back from the grounds. He told everyone to leave him alone."
Alice adjusted the strap of her handbag. "I’m going to see him."