Chapter 267
Chapter 267
Anna’s POV
"Exactly what I said." I leaned back against the sofa, my mind racing through all the interactions we'd had with Everard. "I had my suspicions at Sapphire Sky Hotel, and his behavior today only confirmed them."
She shook her head in disbelief, clearly not having considered this possibility. Her hand unconsciously moved to Caroline's hair, stroking it with gentle motions.
"Think about it," I continued, my voice low but firm. "He tracked you down at Brown Manor. He brought expensive gifts. The way he looked at you... it wasn't just about Caroline."
Catherine's eyes widened as the realization began to dawn. "But I don't even remember him."
"That's precisely the point." I sighed, analyzing the situation with cold logic. "Keith Dunn must have told him about your memory loss. That explains why he brought Caroline and his fiancée here together—it was all calculated. When you didn't recognize him at all, he deliberately left Caroline with you."
The more I spoke, the more certain I became. "I think his goal is twofold. First, he's hoping Caroline might trigger your memories. Second, he's using Caroline as an excuse to keep seeing you."
Catherine's face transformed from confusion to disgust, her lips curling into a sneer. "So he wants me to recover my memories? Is he hoping I'll remember how much I hate him?"
I watched her reaction carefully. "That's what makes this so interesting. He must know that if you do remember, you'll likely despise him. Yet he still seems willing to take that risk."
"Well, he's wasting his time," Catherine snapped, pulling Caroline closer to her side. "My focus is Caroline now. I couldn't care less about him or our past."
I nodded, but a thought lingered in my mind: for some people, being forgotten is more painful than being hated.
---
The next morning, Catherine attempted her first separation exercise with Caroline. I watched from the doorway as she gently explained to her daughter that Mommy would be stepping out of the room for just one minute.
The moment Catherine moved toward the door, Caroline's small body went rigid. She didn't scream or cry—her reaction was more unsettling. She simply froze, like a statue, her eyes fixed on the Rubik's cube in her hands but no longer moving her fingers.
"It's okay, sweetheart," Catherine said softly, her voice straining to remain calm. "Mommy will be right back."
She made it three steps before Caroline suddenly bolted after her, grabbing her hand with surprising strength. The pure panic in those small fingers wrapped around Catherine's wrist made my throat tighten.
Catherine looked at me helplessly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
"Baby steps," I murmured. "Maybe start by just moving to the other side of the room first."
After breakfast, I drove them to the first specialized autism center. The moment we walked through the doors, I felt Catherine stiffen beside me. The cacophony of sounds hit us like a physical wave—children screaming, banging, crying. Some rocked endlessly in corners while others frantically paced in tight circles.
Catherine's face drained of color as she pulled Caroline protectively against her. "This isn't... I can't..." Her words dissolved into shaky breaths.
I placed a steadying hand on her back. "Let's go."
We visited another center that afternoon with similar results. By the time we reached the car, Catherine was trembling.
"I can't put her there, Anna," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I just can't."
I started the engine, my mind already shifting to alternative plans. "Then we'll try Oakridge Primary School. "
---
Principal Miller of Oakridge Primary School studied Caroline over the rim of his glasses, his expression deliberately neutral. The generous checks I'd placed on his desk remained untouched.
"Oakridge Primary School has never accommodated children with special needs," he stated flatly. "We don't have the staff or facilities."
I could feel Catherine tensing beside me, ready to explode.
"Principal Miller," I interjected smoothly, "what if we enroll Caroline as a trial student?" I placed my hand over Catherine's before she could speak. "If she disrupts the other children's learning, we'll withdraw her immediately."
I nudged the checks forward slightly. "We're not expecting academic miracles. We just want her to grow up in a normal environment, which might help her condition." I paused, letting my next words carry their full weight. "To be completely honest, her autism wasn't congenital. We believe she can improve with the right support."
Miller's eyes narrowed slightly. "And if there are... incidents?"
"We'll remove her immediately," I promised. "No questions asked."
He studied Caroline again, who sat perfectly still beside Catherine, methodically working her cube. "The child truly has no violent tendencies?"
Catherine jumped in. "No, she's very well-behaved."
I remembered the bite mark once left on my arm when a maid had tried to restrain her. "She may become distressed when provoked," I amended honestly. "But if there's any incident, just call us. Don't approach her—we'll come right away."
The principal sighed heavily. "Very well. A trial period, beginning after winter break." His hand finally moved toward the checks. "But at the first sign of trouble..."
"We understand completely," I assured him, squeezing Catherine's hand before she could push for more. "Thank you for giving her this opportunity."
---
"He was clearly discriminating against Caroline," Catherine fumed later. "Treating her like she's dangerous."
I sipped my coffee. "The students at that school all come from wealthy, powerful families. He has to be careful." I set my cup down. "The important thing is that he accepted. Now we need to focus on helping Caroline adjust to being separated from you."
We'd purposely chosen a secluded corner of the café. Caroline sat between us, her focus entirely on her cube.
"Let's try something simple," I suggested. "Move to that table over there for just thirty seconds."
Catherine nodded, bending to kiss Caroline's forehead. "Mommy will be right over there, okay? You stay with Auntie Anna."
The moment Catherine stood, Caroline's head snapped up, her eyes tracking her mother's movements like a hawk. When Catherine reached the other table, Caroline's breathing quickened, but she didn't move.
Five seconds.
Ten seconds.
At fifteen seconds, Caroline abruptly slid from her chair and walked directly to Catherine, positioning herself so their arms touched.
"That's okay," I said encouragingly. "She actually looked at me before going to you. That's already progress."