Chapter 260 Her Last Few Belongings
There was still confusion threading through his tone.
"I don't remember us having any business dealings with them."
Mark's palms were slick with sweat.
He knew he had to speak up now, or Alexander would start asking questions.
He drew a deep breath, forcing down the panic clawing at his chest.
"It was when Mr. Neville hit financial trouble and came to you for help. You agreed—for Mrs. Hamilton's sake."
Alexander looked up at him. "Is that so?"
"Yes." Mark nodded quickly. "You said at the time that as long as the Neville Family needed support, you'd be there for them."
Alexander held his gaze for several seconds before looking away, his eyes dropping to the financial report. He gave a slight nod.
"All right," he said. "If the Neville Family needs help, we'll give it to them."
Mark let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, but his relief was short-lived.
He knew Alexander had accepted the explanation on the surface, but doubts would be festering underneath—the reason he'd given was too thin, too vague.
If Alexander sensed something off and started digging...
With Alexander's resources, it would take him less than a week to uncover everything: Isabella embezzling funds and disappearing, what happened after, all those things that led—directly or indirectly—to Caroline's death.
And when that happened, what would it do to his already fragile mind?
Mark couldn't let himself think about it.
He held himself together until Alexander's afternoon rest, then slipped quietly from the study and hurried to the third-floor terrace to call Damon.
The line clicked, and a thick, slurred voice answered.
"...Hello?"
Mark's throat tightened.
Damon's illness had been severe, but because Alexander had intervened in time, his life had been saved—even if the cancer hadn't been cured. But Caroline's death had broken something in him. After falling into a coma, he'd been left partially paralyzed, his speech slurred and wet.
"Mr. Neville," Mark said quietly. "It's Mark."
Silence stretched on the other end before Damon finally responded.
"What is it."
Mark took a steadying breath and explained Alexander's condition as briefly as he could.
"He can only function right now because of this illusion," Mark said, keeping his voice low. "If he learns the truth—that Mrs. Hamilton is gone, that all those things happened—he'll shatter completely."
The silence that followed was even longer.
Finally, Damon spoke.
"My daughter is already gone."
Mark's heart twisted painfully.
"The Hamilton family and I have no ties anymore." Damon's voice was eerily calm, as if he'd fallen so far down that he'd lost the will to climb back up, as if his heart had simply stopped beating. "I don't want to keep living either. Transfer the caretakers away. And stop the funding to the Neville Group."
"Mr. Neville!" Mark's voice rose sharply.
"You can't do this! If Mrs. Hamilton knew, she would—"
"She won't know." Damon cut him off. "She'll never know anything again."
Mark's hand trembled around the phone.
He took several breaths before he could steady his voice.
"Mr. Neville, I know you're in pain. But Mr. Hamilton needs you right now. He needs you alive. He needs this connection to be real, needs to believe the Neville Group is still running. If you take that away, there'll be nothing left holding him together."
Damon said nothing.
Mark pressed on. "Sir, do you remember why Mr. Hamilton funded the Neville Group in the first place? He wanted to preserve it for Mrs. Hamilton. She's gone, but the company is still one of the things she left behind in this world. Do you really want to see it destroyed too?"
There wasn't much of Caroline left: Alexander was one piece, the Neville Group was another. And for Alexander, these two things were the only ways Caroline still existed.
If one had already lost his mind, and the other collapsed because Damon refused to help, Alexander's last thread of stability would snap.
Damon was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was choked.
"I failed Caroline..."
As a father, he'd known from the time she was small that Isabella played favorites, but he'd never taken a stand. He'd let Isabella treat Caroline unfairly. Even when he'd wanted to make it up to her, his actions had always fallen short.
After Edith's "death," he hadn't verified it properly. Like Alexander, he'd simply chosen to believe.
Even knowing Caroline wouldn't have a good life after marrying into that family, he hadn't stopped it.
Didn't Caroline's death have something to do with him?
That question kept him awake at night, even now.
If he couldn't protect what she'd left behind, he had no right to call himself her father.
If they met in heaven one day, how could he face her?
Finally, he gave in.
"...All right."
Mark froze.
He'd nearly given up hope. He'd never expected Damon to agree.
For a moment, he wondered if he was hearing things.
"You... you'll do it?"
"I'll help you." Damon's words came slow and thick. "I'll help you keep it from him. When the time is right, arrange a meeting. I'm Caroline's father—if I tell him, Alexander will believe it."
Mark opened his mouth to thank him, but the words stuck in his throat.
Whether it was "I'm sorry" or "thank you," both felt too heavy to say out loud.
He could only nod, and after the line went dead, he whispered to the silent phone: Thank you.
After hanging up, Mark made his way slowly downstairs.
When he reached Alexander's bedroom door, he hesitated before carefully turning the handle.
The door swung open, and he saw that Alexander had somehow woken up.
He was sitting on the carpet beside the bed, his arms cradled as if holding an infant, rocking gently and murmuring to the Caroline who existed only in his mind. Every so often, he smiled.
Then he looked down at his empty arms, his face lighting up with wonder and joy.
"Caroline! Our daughter is smiling at me!"
"Look—she's really smiling!"
"Caroline, we should give our child a name."