Chapter 120 Why on Earth Are You Going Crazy?
Alexander rose slowly to his feet. He gave Armando a slight nod.
"Father."
His voice was steady, detached.
Armando leaned heavily on his cane, a servant supporting his arm. He walked into the living room, taking slow, deliberate steps.
His gaze swept over the carnage. His brow furrowed deeply.
"Alexander!" Armando slammed his cane against the floor. The sound echoed through the room.
"What the hell are you doing?! The Nevilles have been our allies for generations! How can you take things this far?!"
Alexander's mouth curved into a mocking smile. His tone was ice.
"You know my character, Father. I hate it when people touch what's mine. I hate it even more when they overstep, make decisions for me, target my people."
He paused. His gaze didn't waver.
"Besides, this isn't personal. This is a direct challenge to the Hamilton family. You know better than anyone—if we don't handle threats decisively, the Hamiltons would've been torn apart by the other families in Grandhaven years ago, without even scraps remaining."
"Damn you!" Armando's beard quivered. He struck the floor with his cane again.
"Are you protecting the Hamilton name, or are you just venting whatever twisted feelings you've got buried inside?!"
Alexander's eyes narrowed. "What are you implying?"
Armando took a deep breath. He looked Alexander straight in the eye.
"If you hate Caroline, then her death should've made you happy. If you don't want her dead, then why didn't you protect her? Why let the world know how vulnerable she is? Why let her be treated like a discarded rag doll, trampled by everyone—even her own mother could lure her out and nearly kill her?!"
The mockery on Alexander's face froze.
He lifted his head slowly. Stared at Armando in disbelief.
A moment later, realization dawned. His fingers—the ones gripping the gun—trembled.
Armando watched his son's face drain of color. He sighed softly. His tone gentled.
"I know. Ever since Edith left, you've been out of control. You've poured all your hatred, your guilt, your confusion—everything you can't even explain to yourself—onto Caroline. But in the middle of the night, when you wake up..."
He paused.
"Have you ever asked yourself what's really driving this madness? Is it grief over losing the woman you loved? Or is it something else?"
"I don't have feelings for Caroline!" Alexander's head snapped up. His voice came out in a snarl. "I hate her! I want her dead! How could I possibly—"
Armando looked at him calmly. "Did I say you had feelings for her?"
Alexander froze.
His mouth opened. Then he realized what he'd just said—words he couldn't justify, not even to himself.
He turned his head away sharply. Took several deep breaths.
When he spoke again, his voice was forced, cold.
"I just hate it when my possessions are touched. Damaged. That's all."
Armando shook his head slowly. There was something almost pitying in his expression.
"Alexander, you've never been materialistic. Not as a child. Not now. Power, wealth, even women—you've always been indifferent. When you defeated Linus and became head of the Hamilton family, you didn't celebrate. You didn't gloat. And when Edith turned down your proposal and walked away..."
He paused. Watched Alexander's pupils contract.
"You didn't go after her."
Another pause.
"But now, you're treating a woman you claim to despise as a possession. You're willing to destroy the Neville family over her. Use torture. Violence. Alexander, think carefully. Is this really about protecting something you own? Or is it about something you're too afraid to face?"
Alexander's mind splintered.
The vein at his temple throbbed. Sharp pain lanced through his skull.
Emotions churned inside him like molten rock—boiling, roaring, threatening to consume him entirely.
He raised the gun. Aimed it at Isabella.
"Ah!" Isabella screamed and covered her head.
"Alexander! Don't!"
Damon moved fast. He stepped in front of Isabella, blocking her.
His expression was desperate, pleading. He looked like he was ready to drop to his knees.
"Alexander... I've never begged anyone for anything in my life. Today, I'm begging you. Spare Isabella."
He glanced back at his wife, trembling behind him. Then he turned to Alexander again. His eyes were wet.
"I promise you. From this day forward, Isabella won't interfere with Hamilton business. Not with Caroline. Not with anything. I'll watch her myself. You have to trust me. I'm asking you... for Edith's sake. Spare her mother. If Edith knew about this in heaven, it would break her heart."
The name hit Alexander like a blade.
He looked at Damon's face—older now, worn by time.
Suddenly, he felt exhausted.
He'd come here ready to burn the Neville family to the ground.
But now, standing here, he didn't even know why anymore.
And Damon's request... he couldn't refuse it.
Setting everything else aside, Damon had always been good to him.
When Alexander fought Linus for control of the family, Damon had backed him. Risked everything.
He couldn't do it.
Not today. Not in front of Armando and Damon.
He couldn't kill Isabella.
Alexander exhaled slowly. The gun lowered.
He turned and walked toward the door. His steps felt heavy.
"Alexander..."
Damon's voice was barely a whisper.
Alexander stopped. Turned his head slightly.
Damon's eyes were full of tears.
"Thank you," Damon said quietly. "For sparing us."
Alexander's fist clenched at his side.
He didn't answer.
He walked out of the main building in silence.