Chapter 137 Edith in the Painting
She lifted her eyes and met Alexander's gaze as his eyes narrowed sharply.
"I left my hospital position because I cared about her. Because I admired her. I wanted to help her run the practice. Be her assistant."
Alexander's fingertips trembled almost imperceptibly.
He reached out, his fingers clenching, struggling to pick up the top file from the stack of medical records.
He opened the first page.
Date of visit: One week after Edith's death.
The diagnosis was written clearly: [Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Patient experiences recurring dreams of the incident. The dreams were highly repetitive, filled with vivid details. While awake, repeatedly enters flashback states, reliving scenes from that day, attempting various hypothetical rescue scenarios for Edith. Accompanied by intense guilt, panic attacks, and avoidance of locations and individuals related to the event. Severe impairment of social functioning.]
Alexander shot to his feet.
"Rescue scenarios?"
But all the evidence from the scene, witness testimonies, even his own personal investigation—everything had pointed to Caroline pulling Edith in front of her as a shield during the chaos.
She killed Edith. That had been an iron-clad fact for five years. The foundation of all his hatred and torment.
And now this five-year-old medical record was telling him Caroline's post-traumatic stress symptoms involved repeatedly simulating how to save Edith?
"She was faking." Alexander's voice came out hoarse.
"Mr. Hamilton!" Lina's voice suddenly rose.
"You can question my character, but you cannot question my professional competence! And it wasn't just me—the entire psychiatric department consulted on her case! Mental disorders cannot be faked!"
Alexander's breathing quickened.
No. He couldn't believe this.
It was too absurd.
Maybe… maybe she just felt guilty for killing Edith. So guilty she broke down. That was why she fantasized about trying to fix it.
Yes. That had to be it.
Her extreme guilt had produced pathological delusions.
He threw down the file in his hand and snatched up another one.
Date: One month after Edith's death.
He tore it open.
[Patient reports first sexual experience occurred non-consensually, with violent treatment while partner was under the influence of drugs. Following the incident, developed intense fear, revulsion, and physiological distress toward male physical contact. Prone to anger or episodes of catatonia.]
A roar filled Alexander's mind.
Less than a month after Edith died, he had been drugged. His consciousness foggy. He woke up lying next to Caroline, both of them disheveled.
Afterward, she had cried and begged him to marry her.
That was why he married her. Kept her imprisoned at his side. Tormented her day after day. Made her pay for Edith's death. For her shamelessness.
"Drugged…"
Alexander's mouth twisted into a cold smile.
How could she have trauma? She was the one who drugged me! It was all her setup!
"Mr. Hamilton." Lina, who had been silent, suddenly spoke.
"I don't know why you have this misunderstanding. But I stake my career and my integrity on this—Caroline had neither the time nor the opportunity to do what you are suggesting that day."
Alexander looked up at her.
Lina met his gaze steadily and spoke slowly. "The day one month after Ms. Edith Neville's death, from nine in the morning until eleven at night, Caroline was in my office receiving treatment. The hospital has complete records. She only left after treatment ended, when she received an anonymous text. It said there was something important related to Ms. Edith Neville—personal effects that had to be delivered in person. It specified a hotel room. She rushed there immediately."
She paused, watching Alexander's face grow paler, and added with deliberate cruelty.
"Also, the record states 'patient self-report.' According to clinical protocol, unless there is concrete evidence to the contrary, we accept the patient's subjective experience. Do you need me to spell it out more clearly? Caroline's condition at that time was entirely consistent with post-sexual assault stress disorder."
A dull thud. The file slipped from Alexander's hand and hit the table hard.
He staggered back half a step, gripping the table edge to keep from falling.
No… impossible…
If it was not Caroline, then who had drugged him?
No! He could not lose control! These records could be fake!
His eyes reddened. He lunged at the stack of files again and snatched up another.
Date: About one year into the marriage.
Diagnosis: Major depressive disorder with suicidal ideation.
Another one.
Date: Third year of marriage.
Diagnosis: Bipolar disorder.
Another.
Date: Fourth year of marriage.
[Diagnosis: Significant improvement. Mood had stabilized. Suicidal and self-harm ideation subsiding. Social functioning partially restored.]
The fourth year of marriage. The year the Hamilton family entered tense merger talks with a particular family from Euravell.
He had spent almost the entire year traveling the world. He had returned to the apartment only a handful of times.
He rarely even thought about Caroline. Only occasionally learned from the bodyguards' routine reports that she was still alive. Heard she had opened a psychology practice.
So… all those ploys he had assumed were attempts to get his attention—had he imagined them?
In places he could not see, she had struggled. Tried to crawl out of the mire. Searched for reasons to keep living. And he had dragged her back down every time. Pushed her deeper into darkness with his own hands.
Alexander swept his arm across the table, sending all the files crashing to the floor.
"Illness can be faked! Medicine can be bought and never taken! These records could all be forged!"
Lina looked at him with disappointment.
She shook her head and did not argue further. She simply opened her briefcase and pulled out an even thicker envelope from the very bottom.
"Mr. Hamilton, you can doubt the medical records. You can refuse to believe the doctors' diagnoses. But this—she drew these when her condition was at its worst, when she could barely communicate with words. I suggested she use art to express the pain and images she could not speak. As a form of release and therapy. I think these will tell you more than any written record what she was going through."
She stood. "I have patients waiting at the clinic. I need to go."
Lina left.
Alexander stood frozen. Finally, after a long moment, he reached out and picked up the envelope. He opened it.
Thick sheets of drawing paper slid out.
One glance, and Alexander's breath stopped completely.
The figures in the drawings were lifelike.
Edith. And him.