Chapter 29 Go Bring Her Back
"Speak," Alexander said.
"We found something while clearing the fire site," the aide replied. "Near the corner of the living room, close to the master-bedroom hallway, we recovered a partially burned security camera memory card."
He placed a tablet in front of Alexander and pulled up a blurred video clip.
"Our tech team did their best to restore a short segment recorded after the fire started... but it's only about two minutes long, and the damage is severe."
Alexander's brow furrowed as he took the tablet.
The footage was grainy, the angle skewed, showing only a sliver of the living room near the master-bedroom door. Flames and thick smoke were already spreading.
The fire was moving fast... too fast.
His frown deepened.
Sensing his doubt, the aide explained, voice tense. "We examined the room where the fire began. It was almost completely burned out, but we still found traces of chemical residue—nothing like the original building materials."
"So you suspect..." Alexander's voice was low.
"Arson," the aide confirmed. "But the earlier footage is gone. Everything was chaos. The servants and guards can't recall who passed through."
He hesitated, then added, "The most important detail is that the fire spread directly toward the master bedroom you had prepared for Ms. Edith Neville... and toward Ms. Caroline Neville's room."
It looked deliberate—destroying what was inside, maybe killing Caroline. Or framing her.
"Who would frame her?" Alexander demanded. "She's already guilty. Who else would want to destroy Edith's belongings?"
The aide's lips parted, but he said nothing.
Alexander's mind snagged on the fact that Caroline had been locked inside her room at the time. She couldn't have left.
"Did she bribe a guard or a servant?"
That vicious woman was a master at playing roles. She might have set the fire herself, to win sympathy, to destroy Edith's things. She had already hurt Celeste.
If it was deliberate, he would make her pay.
"Sir..." the aide began, uneasy.
A sudden crash sounded in the video.
Alexander looked down. In the frame, the door to Caroline's room burst open, the charred panel falling inward. A thin figure stumbled into view, moving against the direction of escape.
Caroline.
Without hesitation, she ran straight toward the master bedroom, where the fire was fiercest. Smoke and flames swallowed her.
The footage cut off.
Alexander said nothing.
She had gone in with no protection at all.
A thought flickered—absurd, unwelcome. Did she truly care about Edith's belongings enough to risk her life?
No. Impossible. She must have known about the camera, staged it to make him pity her.
Yes... that had to be it. She was an actress.
But what kind of performance required risking severe burns or death? Just for sympathy?
Would he do the same? No.
"Is that all?" he asked, voice steady.
"Yes, sir. The storage device was too damaged to recover more."
The aide hesitated again. "We also found chemical residue in the room next to hers. Both samples are being tested for accelerants. Results soon."
Alexander fell silent.
The two rooms were separated by a thin, flammable partition. If she had been acting, she wouldn't have needed to go in that deep.
She must not have known about the fire. She had gone in for the relics.
Had he been too harsh calling her worthless?
He shoved the thought aside.
This wasn't about her motives. This was about who had dared set fire to Edith's room.
His punishment of Caroline had nothing to do with the blaze.
"Find out who did it," Alexander ordered coldly. "No traitors in my house."
"Yes, sir," the aide said, but lingered.
"What else?" Alexander asked.
The aide's voice dropped. "Mr. Hamilton... Mrs. Hamilton has been sent to the old maze as you instructed. But tonight the temperature will drop below freezing, and the forecast warns of rain. Given her condition..."
He didn't finish. The meaning was clear. That environment could kill her.
Alexander's chest tightened.
He stood abruptly, moving to the window, turning his back so the aide couldn't see his face.
But the image of her running into the fire, and her dead-eyed stare, kept flashing in his mind.
Hatred and an unfamiliar strain of worry pulled at him.
After a long pause, his voice came out cold. "She's supposed to survive anything. Let's see if her luck holds."
He said no more.
His hand curled into a fist.
The aide watched his rigid back, sighed silently, and left.
Alexander stayed at the window, ignoring the city lights. Her fragile figure from the video replayed over and over.
Why?
He had always believed Caroline was the kind of woman who would stop at nothing to get him—marrying in haste after her sister's death, performing for his benefit, jealous, cruel to Celeste.
All of that fit.
But would such a selfish woman give up her chance to escape, just to save relics belonging to the sister she had indirectly harmed?
It didn't make sense.
Unless... those relics meant more to her than life.
Alexander's nerves burned. He lit a cigarette, inhaling deep until his heartbeat eased.
"Arson..." he murmured.
Who would do it?
If she had endured this disaster without knowing, and he had still sent her to that place...
He caught himself. Why was he feeling pity? But if she died...
He clenched his fist, inhaled hard again. Ash fell onto the expensive carpet. He barely noticed.
The fire had injured her. It had given him a moment's satisfaction.
But that blaze wasn't his punishment. She was a sinner, and he would judge her himself.
He crushed the cigarette, picked up the phone.
"Send someone to the old maze."
"Sir?" the aide's voice came back.
"Bring her back. Don't let her die there. She hasn't paid her debt. Without my permission, she doesn't get to die."
"Yes, sir. I'll send our best."
Alexander closed his eyes.
He would spare her once. Not because the punishment was over, but as a single mercy for saving Edith's relics.
Caroline no longer remembered how long she had been walking, or how many times she had fallen.
Rain came without warning, pounding down, stealing the last of her body heat.
Her vision blurred. She couldn't tell if the wetness on her face was rain or tears.
The taste of blood filled her throat. Cuts on her arms and legs turned pale under the cold water.
She was lost.
Every direction was the same—narrow paths buried under vines and weeds, walls of trees closing overhead.
The sky never lightened.
Her strength was gone. Only will kept her moving.
She tried to climb a slick slope. Her foot slipped. She tumbled into a dark ravine choked with thorns.
"Ah—!"
Her cry came out hoarse. The world spun. Her body slammed against stone and thorn again and again. Skin split, blood spilling freely.
She landed hard at the bottom.
Pain exploded through her body, sharpest in her left leg. Breathing sent knives through her chest.
She lay in the cold mud, unable to move a finger.
The rain intensified, pounding as if the world were breaking.
Soon, she thought, the water would fill the ravine. She would drown.
If the water rose high enough, her body might float, found by a hunter or hiker. Or rot here alone.
She stared at the night sky, empty. It didn't matter.
This place felt like a coffin made for her.
She thought, 'Edith... I'm sorry. This time I really will die. If there's another life, I'll guard you where you can't see me. This time, no one will take you away. I promise...'
The water crept over her jaw, then her nose.
She coughed weakly. Her mind began to fade.
Suddenly, a beam of light cut through the dark.
"Is this... heaven?" she murmured.