Chapter 125 Is There Really a Hidden Truth?
The nightmare felt so real that Caroline began to wonder if she had truly done something to hurt Edith.
Then a low voice sliced through the darkness.
"Bad dream?"
Caroline's head whipped around.
The room was dark, no lights on. But in the pale moonlight filtering through the window, she could make out a figure sitting in the armchair by the bed.
Alexander.
She did not know how long he had been there. He was almost invisible in the shadows, save for the red ember of his cigarette that glowed and faded, briefly illuminating half his face. His jaw was tight.
"Darling..."
Caroline's voice came out hoarse. Her eyes stung with tears.
Without thinking, she threw back the covers and stumbled out of bed. She rushed into his arms, wrapping herself around his cold body and holding on tight.
"I... I had a nightmare. About Edith. About the day she died... But she smiled at me. This horrible smile... And then she turned into something else. A ghost. She tried to strangle me..."
Her words spilled out in a trembling rush. Her body shook with fear, tears soaking through the front of Alexander's shirt.
When she mentioned Edith's twisted smile before death, Alexander went rigid for a heartbeat.
Those terrible suspicions surged up again.
He took a deep breath and forced them down.
He let her cling to him, unmoving and silent. The hand holding his cigarette trembled slightly. Ash fell soundlessly to the floor.
Caroline sobbed harder. Her words came in broken gasps. "Why... why does Mom hate me so much? Why would I dream about Edith like that? I didn't want her to die... Did I do something wrong? Or was there more to her death? Is that why Mom hates me? Why she wanted to kill me..."
Alexander did not know how to answer.
More to it? That was putting it mildly.
Even he could no longer be sure whether that so-called accident had been a carefully orchestrated setup.
How could he tell her what he had once believed so confidently? That it was her fault for rejecting his proposal to Edith. For running away in the middle of the night. For making Edith go to the docks to find her. For getting her killed.
The thought was unbearable. What if Caroline had been nothing but a victim all along? What if she had been deliberately chosen as a scapegoat?
Caroline waited for him to respond. When he did not, she cried harder.
She tugged lightly at his sleeve. "Darling? Did I... did I really do something wrong?"
Alexander finally snapped out of it.
He looked down at her. Her face was pale in the moonlight, streaked with tears.
Slowly, he raised one hand and awkwardly wrapped it around her trembling shoulders.
This was the first time he had ever held her like this—held her to comfort her, not to punish, not out of obligation.
And she was a woman he had once hated. A woman he might have been wrong about all along.
His hands hovered, uncertain of how much pressure to use, how not to hurt her.
"Don't overthink it," he said quietly, his voice rough and stiff.
He really was not good at this.
"Edith's death..."
He stopped.
His other hand—the one she could not see—clenched into a fist. His nails bit into his palm.
A few seconds passed. Then, as if it took every ounce of courage he possessed, he forced out the rest.
"It wasn't your fault. Don't blame yourself."
Caroline pressed her face into his chest, hearing those words.
And cried even harder.
Alexander remained motionless, completely lost.
He had said the right thing, hadn't he? So why was she still crying? Had he made it worse?
She curled into him, sobbing. Her words came out in fragments. "I know... I know Edith's death was an accident. But I've always blamed myself. I know her death had something to do with me... If I hadn't agreed to marry you. If I hadn't fallen in love with you. If I hadn't said yes, she wouldn't have been heartbroken. She wouldn't have gone to the docks. She wouldn't have..."
Alexander's hand on her shoulder went still.
She regretted falling in love with him?
For some reason, that thought sent a sharp jolt of panic through his chest.
People always clung to what was familiar. What felt safe.
Caroline's unconditional obedience in the past had made it easy for him to punish her, to take everything out on her. That was why seeing hatred in her eyes had sent him spiraling.
Just like now.
He had just started getting used to having her by his side, having her act like a real wife.
And now she was saying she should not have loved him.
"No."
Alexander cut her off without thinking.
He lifted the hand from her shoulder and clumsily wiped the tears from her face.
In the darkness, his gaze was intense, complicated, fixed on her red, swollen eyes.
"Your choice wasn't wrong," he said quietly.
Each word carried weight.
He could not tell if he was speaking to her or to himself.
"You're my..."
He paused. His throat worked.
Then he said the word that shocked even him.
"...wife."
Time passed. Caroline's sobs gradually faded. She was exhausted. Before she could even make it back to the bed, she fell asleep in his arms.
Alexander stayed still, holding her, until he was certain she was deeply asleep.
Then he carefully lifted her, carried her to the bed, and tucked the blanket around her.
He stood there for a while, staring down at her pale face in the moonlight.
Finally, he turned and left the room without a sound.
Liam had been waiting outside the door. The moment Alexander stepped out, he moved forward. "Sir, is Mrs. Hamilton..."
"She's asleep." Alexander rubbed his temples.
He headed toward the study, giving orders as he walked. "Have the staff prepare her things. Move them to the master bedroom. From now on, she stays in the master bedroom."
Liam's steps faltered. Surprise flickered across his face, but he nodded quickly. "Yes, sir."
Alexander kept walking, not looking back. "Also, contact a psychiatrist. The best one you can find. I want someone who can prescribe something to help her rest. Something to stop the nightmares."