Chapter 39 Silent Prey
Caroline opened her mouth, trying to speak as she always had.
Her face turned scarlet. Veins throbbed at her temples. But all that came out were dry, choking gasps—no words, no sound.
She thought, 'No... this can't be happening.'
She couldn't have lost her voice.
She was just—just too worked up. Her throat was temporarily shot. That had to be it.
Panic filled her eyes as her hands flew to her neck, fingers digging into her own throat.
She squeezed hard, nails biting into her palms until the sharp sting made tears spill over. But her throat only wheezed—broken, hollow breaths like air leaking from a busted bellows.
'No... I need to speak! Just one word! Please!' She screamed it in her mind, tears streaming down her face, lips moving desperately, but only ragged breathing escaped.
Had they taken even this from her? The right to express her pain?
Was she mute now?
A freak who couldn't even cry out, couldn't defend herself?
Caroline's body began to shake violently.
Physical pain she could endure. But losing her voice—losing the most basic ability to communicate—meant she'd be trapped inside her own head, unable to scream, unable to reach anyone.
That isolation terrified her more than death.
The nurse, who had been organizing instruments with her back turned, heard the commotion and glanced over.
Seeing Caroline's tear-streaked face, hands clamped around her own throat, she startled.
"What are you doing?" The nurse rushed over, prying her hands away. "Stop! Don't hurt yourself! What's wrong? Take it slow!"
Caroline grabbed the nurse's wrist in an iron grip, shaking her head frantically, her other hand flailing toward her throat.
The nurse's expression darkened.
She wasn't a psychiatrist or an ENT specialist, but she knew the basics.
She'd lost her voice?
"You... you can't speak?" the nurse asked cautiously.
Caroline nodded hard, tears falling in streams.
The nurse's stomach dropped. She patted Caroline's shoulder, trying to calm her. "Don't panic. I'll get someone. Just breathe, okay? Deep breaths. Stop hurting yourself—you'll make it worse."
The nurse bolted from the room.
Minutes later, a doctor arrived with two assistants in tow.
Seeing Caroline's condition, the doctor's brow furrowed. He moved quickly, checking her vitals.
"What's her status?"
"She woke up like this. Trying to speak, but only air comes out. Extremely agitated. Self-harming behavior," the nurse rattled off.
The doctor shone a penlight into Caroline's mouth and throat, then had her attempt to vocalize, to swallow.
Caroline tried with everything she had. Every attempt failed.
A quick examination showed no external damage to the larynx. This looked more like conversion disorder triggered by severe psychological trauma—acute psychogenic aphonia, commonly known as loss of voice from shock.
"Does Mr. Hamilton know?" the doctor asked the nurse quietly.
The nurse shook her head. "Not yet. He said to wait until Mrs. Hamilton woke—"
The door slammed open.
Alexander strode in.
Seeing Caroline surrounded by medical staff, her eyes wild and hollow, his stride faltered—just for a heartbeat.
"What's wrong with her?"
The doctor straightened. "Mr. Hamilton, Mrs. Hamilton is awake, but she's experiencing severe speech impairment. We've ruled out physical injury. It's likely acute psychogenic aphonia caused by psychological trauma. She can't speak."
Aphonia?
Alexander's pupils contracted slightly, his cold gaze locking onto her.
Caroline stared back, terror flooding her eyes.
Alexander's jaw tightened, irritation surging through him again.
He thought, 'Useless. Can't even talk now? What new game is this? Playing victim for sympathy?'
"Aphonia?" he repeated. "You're sure? She's not faking it?"
The doctor tensed but answered professionally. "Medically speaking, sudden onset aphonia from severe psychological shock is common. Mrs. Hamilton has experienced extreme emotional distress and trauma. This symptom is consistent. Faking this level of physiological response is nearly impossible."
Alexander scoffed, giving her a glance full of mockery.
"What trauma could she possibly have? She watched some unpleasant scenes. That's enough to scare her mute?"
Caroline's tears came harder, but no sound escaped—only broken, gasping breaths.
The doctor looked uncomfortable but pressed on. "Psychological trauma thresholds vary by individual. For Mrs. Hamilton, last night's events clearly exceeded her capacity. This type of aphonia requires psychological intervention and patient counseling, combined with medication, for any chance of recovery. Forcing her to speak or provoking her could worsen the condition."
"So you're saying I'm provoking her?" Alexander's laugh was sharp as he stepped closer. "Doctor, are you telling me that a woman who killed her own sister—a vicious, manipulative woman—would be traumatized into silence by watching other people get punished? Hm?"
The doctor's face went white. He said nothing more.
Caroline trembled violently.
She shook her head desperately, wanting to deny it, to scream, to tell them all the truth.
But no sound came. Only silent tears.
Alexander watched her, the irritation in his chest hitting a breaking point.
He didn't need a silent puppet. He didn't need a plaything that couldn't speak, couldn't cry, couldn't beg.
What was the point of hunting prey that couldn't scream?
"I don't care what caused it." Alexander turned back to the doctor.
"You have three days. Use every method available and make her talk. Otherwise—"
The doctor broke into a cold sweat, nodding quickly. "Yes, Mr. Hamilton. We'll do everything we can. But this takes time, and it requires Mrs. Hamilton's cooperation—"
"Cooperation?" Alexander's laugh was icy as he turned back to Caroline.
"Hear that, Caroline? Cooperate with the doctor. Fix your voice. Stop playing games. If I find out you're faking this—"
He paused, then reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a small folding knife.
"I won't mind checking your vocal cords myself."
Caroline recoiled in terror, her body jerking backward.
"Take her for a full workup. I want a detailed report." Alexander's voice was cold as steel.
Then he turned and strode out of the room.