Chapter 41 He Must Be Hiding
Someone was trying to kill her.
Caroline's mouth opened, but no sound came. The hand clamped around her throat was merciless, cutting off her air until even the smallest gasp was impossible. The pressure was a vise, tightening with every second, and panic burned through her chest as her lungs screamed for oxygen. Her body convulsed, jerking violently, legs kicking against the sheets.
Her vision blurred. Somewhere in the swirling haze, she thought she saw Edith—just a flicker, a shadow of her face sweeping across Caroline's mind.
And then, she stopped fighting.
If this was it... if she could see Edith again, maybe death would not be the worst thing.
But Edith's face did not fade. It lingered—calm, steady. Her lips moved, forming words Caroline could not hear but somehow understood: "Caroline... live."
The soundless command slammed into her like a punch. A ringing filled her head, drowning everything else, but it cut through the fog.
Edith wanted her alive.
Her eyes snapped open. The survival instinct roared back to life. Caroline's hand shot out blindly, clawing at the air, until her fingers struck something solid on the nightstand.
She seized it and swung. The lamp crashed to the floor, exploding into shards and twisted metal.
The sudden, violent noise made the grip falter—just for a heartbeat.
It was enough.
Caroline rolled sharply, breaking free. Her shoulder slammed into the carpet, pain jolting through her bones, but she was out of that suffocating hold.
The disturbance drew footsteps from the hallway.
"Ma'am? What's happening?"
The intruder's eyes flashed cold. Without hesitation, he sprinted for the balcony, vaulted the railing, and disappeared into the night.
The bedroom door burst open. The maid on duty rushed in, flipping the overhead light.
Caroline flinched, squeezing her eyes shut against the glare.
The maid froze, her gaze locking on Caroline sprawled across the floor—pale skin, and a raw, dark ring of bruises around her neck.
'Someone! Someone just tried to kill me! He went over the balcony! Look at my neck!'
Caroline's mouth moved, but nothing came out. She gestured wildly, desperate to make her understand.
The maid's eyes darted to the shattered lamp, then back to Caroline. Her face drained of color.
"Did someone come in?"
Caroline nodded hard, jabbing her finger toward the balcony.
Go! Get help! He's still close!
The maid's pulse spiked. An intruder—inside Alexander's penthouse—attacking Caroline? That was not just bold. That was insane.
"I'll get help!" She spun toward the door, shouting down the hall.
"Someone! Quickly! There's an intruder in Mrs. Hamilton's room!"
Footsteps thundered closer from all directions.
Bodyguards and staff poured in, taking one look at the wreckage and sucking in sharp breaths.
The penthouse erupted into chaos.
It did not take long for Alexander to arrive.
He had barely been asleep when they woke him. He stepped into the room, eyes sweeping over Caroline with his usual impatience—then stopping cold when he saw the bruises on her throat. His eyes narrowed. His stride slowed.
"What happened?" His voice was hard as steel.
One of the guards stepped forward. "Sir, we heard the noise and came in. Mrs. Hamilton's lamp was smashed. She appears shaken. She indicated someone entered the room and escaped through the balcony."
He hesitated, then added, "We've checked the balcony and the grounds below. No sign of anyone."
Alexander's gaze returned to her neck.
Someone had been here. In his penthouse. On his ground. And they had tried to strangle his wife.
If the fire last time could be dismissed as an accident... this could not.
To get past his security to the top floor, you either knew exactly how to get in and out... or you had help from inside.
His expression iced over.
This was not just about killing Caroline. This was a challenge.
"Turn this place upside down," he said, voice hard as steel. "Pull the security feeds. Lock every exit. No one on duty tonight leaves. I want to know who thinks they can touch her under my roof."
"Yes, sir!" The guards scattered instantly.
Alexander stepped closer, towering over Caroline.
She lifted her gaze to his, tears blurring her vision. A flicker of hope stirred—did he believe her now?
She raised her hands, trying to sign the details.
But Alexander's hand came up instead, his cold fingertips brushing the bruises on her neck.
She flinched.
His hand paused, then withdrew slowly.
A thin, mocking smile curved his mouth. "A sinner like you... afraid to die? Haven't you been begging for it? Or was all of that just an act?"
The hope drained out of her. Of course. To him, she was still nothing but a criminal. Her life or death meant nothing. The only reason he had ordered a search was because someone had trespassed on his territory.
"Sir!" Another guard returned, face grim. "We've swept every room, duct, and vent. Nothing. The balcony and outer walls are clean—no trace of escape. And the feed to this room's camera was cut... fifteen minutes ago."
Nothing? Impossible.
"Useless," Alexander said under his breath.
The guard lowered his head.
Caroline stared. She had seen the intruder go over the balcony. How could there be nothing? This high up, he could not have gotten far. Unless... he was still inside. Hiding.
She sat up sharply, gesturing urgently.