Chapter 16 My Mercy Fueled Your Performance
Caroline could no longer remember the exact way Alexander had taken her that night—only the aftermath. The fever that crept back into her bones, the way her wrists felt as if they'd been snapped in two.
The bruises from his tie, rough against her skin, took days to fade. The stitches in her palm were finally removed, leaving behind a scar that looked almost savage.
Alexander disappeared again. Life returned to its stagnant, suffocating stillness.
Celeste became a fixture in the apartment, her own room permanently claimed. On nights she didn't come back, Caroline suspected she was with Alexander. Sometimes the thought crossed her mind—what they looked like together—but her heart was as still as stagnant water.
Her chest ached, but the pain had dulled into numbness.
The one mercy was that, once she'd healed enough, she could return to the clinic. Those hours were the only ones that made her feel remotely alive. There, she was still Dr. Neville. Needed. Respected. Not a criminal. Not Edith's replacement.
That afternoon, she had a new appointment—a teenage boy with severe social anxiety after a brutal case of school bullying. Lina said his mother had begged them to take the case. The boy couldn't leave his home, so Caroline would have to visit him.
She had just reached the clinic door when the bell rang.
Frowning, she glanced through the peephole. A delivery man in a courier's uniform stood outside, holding a brown envelope the size of a book.
"Mrs. Hamilton?" he asked through the door.
Caroline hesitated, then opened it.
"Your delivery. Please sign."
The envelope was light. Her name was printed on the label, but the sender's field was blank.
Unease flickered in her chest, but she scrawled her signature on the pad and closed the door.
She sat on the sofa, staring at the envelope for a long moment. Finally, she tore it open.
No letter. Just two items.
The first slid out—a sheet of printer paper. Blood-red block letters screamed: [YOU ARE A MURDERER. DID YOU THINK HIDING WOULD SAVE YOU? EDITH IS WATCHING YOU FROM HEAVEN. SHE IS COLD.]
Caroline's breath stopped. Her fingers trembled violently.
No… no…
Who sent this? Who?
She flung the paper away.
The second item fell to the carpet at her feet.
A scrap of white fabric, stained with dark, dried blood.
Her pupils widened. She knew it. Of course she knew it.
It was from Edith's shirt—the one they'd bought together for her sixteenth birthday. Edith had loved it, said it was soft, clean, perfect. She wore it often. Once she'd spilled juice on it and couldn't get the stain out; she'd been upset for days.
That shirt should have been tucked away in her closet, or long since discarded by their mother. But now it lay here, soaked in blood, delivered to Caroline's hands.
"Ah!" The cry tore out of her. She shot to her feet.
But her gaze was locked on the fabric.
It's not real blood. It's fake. Someone staged this.
Her rational mind screamed at her to hold on. But the image dragged her back to the docks… the blood pouring from Edith's body, unstoppable… soaking her hands, her clothes…
"It wasn't me… it wasn't me… Edith…" she whispered, rocking, clutching her head.
A dull thud sounded outside. Caroline screamed, whipping her head toward the door.
It was Lina.
She had come early, worried about Caroline. The moment she stepped inside, she froze—Caroline was collapsed on the carpet, pale as death, the bloody fabric between them.
"Dr. Neville!" Lina rushed forward, catching her. "God, what is this?! What happened?!"
Caroline couldn't form the words. She pointed with shaking hands, tears spilling unchecked.
Lina followed her gaze, saw the note and the fabric. Her face drained of color. She fumbled for her phone.
"We have to call the police! This is a threat!"
"No… don't…" Caroline clutched her sleeve, desperate. "Lina… please…"
"Doctor, this is serious! Someone is targeting you! The police have to handle this!" Lina pulled free, dialing.
She explained quickly when the line connected.
But before the police arrived, another visitor came.
Alexander.
She didn't know who had told him—or maybe, as he always claimed, nothing happened in Grandhaven without his knowledge.
Less than twenty minutes after Lina's call, he strode in.
His eyes landed on Caroline, crumpled on the floor. Then they moved to the carpet, to the note and the fabric.
His steps slowed. His eyes narrowed.
He didn't look at Caroline. He walked to the items, bent down, scanned them. A faint crease formed between his brows.
The doorbell rang again. Two officers entered.
Lina went to them like a drowning woman to shore, explaining in a rush.
The officers began their routine—questions, photos, preparing to collect the evidence.
One officer pulled on gloves, reaching for the shirt scrap.
Alexander's voice cut through the room. "Officers, I think this is a misunderstanding. Or rather… a private family matter."
Everyone froze.
Caroline's head lifted, confusion in her eyes.
Private matter? Did he believe she was being threatened?
Alexander didn't look at her. "I apologize for the trouble. I think it's better handled internally."
His gaze turned cold on her. "My wife's mental state hasn't been stable. She may be… imagining things again."
Ice flooded her veins.
He thought she staged it. For attention. Another act.
"No… no…" she tried to stand, failed, shaking her head. "It's not me, Alexander, someone—"
"Caroline." He finally looked at her. "You're tired. You need rest."
He turned back to the police. "Sorry to involve you in our family affairs. My lawyer will contact the station if needed."
The officers exchanged a glance. They knew who he was. They knew these family matters were often… untouchable.
"In that case, we'll leave," one said politely. "If anything changes, contact us."
"Of course," Alexander replied.
They left.
Lina opened her mouth, but Alexander's stare shut her down. She glanced at Caroline, whose eyes had gone dead, then let the guards escort her out.
The clinic was silent again.
Alexander stood over Caroline. "Finished with the performance?"
She looked up through tears.
He never believed her. Not once.
"I…" Her throat closed. "It's really… not me…"
He ignored her. Bent down, grabbed her arm, yanked her to her feet.
"Seems I've been too lenient lately."
He dragged her outside, ignoring her weakness, shoving her into the car.
"That's why you have the energy to play these pathetic games."
At the apartment, he hauled her straight into the bedroom.
She knew what he was going to do.
"No! Alexander! Don't lock me in! Please! Someone's out there—someone wants to hurt me!"
Her cries broke into sobs, her body fighting his grip.
He didn't hear her. He threw her onto the bed, turned to the door.
"Watch her," he told the guards. "She doesn't leave this room without my permission. Take her phone. Cut the landline. No visitors except to bring food and water."
"Yes, sir."
Her phone was gone. The phone line had been cut.
The door shut. Locked.
A moment later, the lights went out.
Once again, the world slipped into darkness.