Chapter 40 The Useless One
Caroline was taken to the hospital.
The examination process was long and invasive. She felt less like a person and more like a broken machine laid out for repair.
Whatever trauma she had endured didn't matter. Alexander's orders were simple—get the machine running again, by any means necessary.
As for what had caused the malfunction in the first place? He hadn't asked. He didn't care.
But no matter how many tests they ran, the results came back the same: severe psychogenic aphonia caused by psychological trauma.
The doctor laid out a treatment plan—anti-anxiety medication, psychological counseling, vocal exercises, and most importantly, removal from the source of stress and maintaining emotional stability.
Removal from the source of stress?
Caroline lay on the examination table, listening to the doctor nervously relay the findings to Alexander, and the absurdity of it nearly made her laugh.
Her biggest source of stress was standing right there—Alexander himself, his face dark with impatience.
Alexander listened to the doctor's report, his expression growing colder by the second.
The word "useless" flashed through his mind again.
She wasn't just the woman who had killed Edith. Not just a disobedient plaything. Now she was a mute burden who couldn't even speak.
What use was a mute to him?
Looking at that face—so much like Edith's—but unable to produce Edith's clear, bright voice. Only able to wheeze like a broken bellows.
He had thought last night's punishment would teach her her place, make her obedient.
Instead, he had broken her completely. Turned her into a defective product that couldn't even vocalize.
No one wanted a cracked vase, no matter how expensive it had once been.
What irritated him even more was that seeing her like this—lost, unable to even express her pain—made that strange, unwelcome feeling in his chest grow sharper.
But she deserved this. She had brought it on herself.
Why couldn't she speak? Why couldn't she scream when being punished?
She needed to endure everything consciously. He needed to hear her suffering. Only then would that dead, hollow place in his chest—the void Edith's death had left—feel even slightly at peace.
Alexander forced down that flicker of doubt, turned away, and ignored the doctor's follow-up recommendations. "Take her back to the penthouse," he said coldly.
He strode toward the exit. After a few steps, he realized Caroline wasn't following.
He stopped abruptly and turned around. She was still standing there, supported by a nurse, staring blankly at the floor.
Rage flared instantly.
"Caroline!" Alexander's voice cracked like a whip. "Are you deaf now? Move!"
Caroline flinched violently, her vacant gaze finally focusing on his blazing eyes.
She shuffled mechanically toward him, stumbled, and nearly fell. The nurse caught her.
Alexander watched her pathetic, fragile movements, his anger spiking—along with that damned, nameless feeling.
He turned sharply and kept walking.
The penthouse had been fully restored. Everything Edith had loved was back in its place, untouched.
Caroline was led by the maid to a new guest room.
The decor was cold, impersonal—like a hotel. The furniture and bedding had no warmth, no character.
Everything about it reminded her that in this home, she wasn't even a guest.
Alexander went straight to his study, leaving only one instruction for the maid: "Watch her. Make sure she takes her medication."
The door closed. Caroline sat on the unfamiliar bed, pulled her knees to her chest, and buried her face.
The maid brought the pills and set them on the nightstand. "Ma'am, please take your medication. The doctor prescribed them to help you relax and sleep."
Caroline stared at the white pills, exhaustion washing over her.
What was the point?
Would they knock her out, let her escape this nightmare for a few hours?
When she woke up, nothing would change. She would still be mute. Still a prisoner in a gilded cage.
Taking them or not—what difference would it make?
But she stood anyway, walked over, picked up the glass, and swallowed the pills.
Maybe the drugs would let her sleep deeply enough to stop the nightmares.
The maid collected the glass and slipped out quietly, closing the door.
Caroline walked to the window and looked out at Rosewood Park, its outline blurring in the twilight.
Once, this view had brought her a moment of peace. Now, watching the distant city lights flicker to life, she only felt colder.
The world outside was beautiful. Grandhaven's most vibrant district still pulsed with life.
Only she—standing at the top of this glittering tower—was withering away.
The medication hit fast. Caroline's eyelids grew heavy, her thoughts blurred, and waves of dizziness washed over her.
She forced herself to the bed and lay down.
She didn't have the strength to change into pajamas. She just collapsed fully clothed, pulled the blanket over herself, and curled up tight.
Darkness came quickly.
But the nightmares didn't stay away.
Strangely, this time she didn't dream of Edith dying at the docks.
Instead, she was back in that muddy ditch.
This time, the light didn't come.
Rain poured down, quickly submerging her body, her nose, her mouth.
Desperate suffocation clamped around her throat. She thrashed, tried to scream, tried to breathe, but her throat was blocked—no sound came out.
Then, two points of eerie green light appeared in the darkness—a beast.
A massive creature reeking of blood crept closer. She wanted to scream, to run, but the mud held her fast.
No! No!
She didn't want to die here.
It was too cold. The freezing mud wrapped around her like a shroud, whispering, "Even if you die, you'll rot here in this filth. You'll never rest. You'll never be free. This is the price for killing Edith."
'No!' Caroline screamed in her mind, but no sound came.
The suffocation coiled tighter around her entire body. She began to convulse.
Then she jolted awake.
The sudden escape from the nightmare made her instinctively gasp for air—but the suffocation from the dream was still there.
In the next second, she saw him in the darkness.
And his hand was wrapped around her throat, squeezing.