Chapter 60 Do You Have a Twin Sister?
Caroline waved her hands quickly, shaking her head in a quiet plea for him not to go to such trouble.
Alexander turned slightly toward her.
In the warm spill of light, her expression was shadowed with unease—almost exactly as he remembered her deep in his memory. And yet, in that fleeting instant, he caught something new.
There was a glint in her eyes.
A kind of light he had never seen before.
For the first time, Alexander realized Caroline's mind for business was sharper than he had given her credit for. This time, she had truly been of help.
He hesitated, then spoke. "Thank you."
No sarcasm. No cold edge. No hidden conditions. Just a simple, unadorned gratitude—spoken in a tone so genuine that Caroline had never heard it from him before.
She froze, her heart jolting as if struck, a strange ache blooming in her chest.
Instinctively, she turned her head, meeting his gaze. In those eyes, she saw her own reflection, clear and unflinching.
It was the first time in her memory that Alexander had looked at her with such seriousness.
For a moment, she forgot to react, caught in the stillness between them.
Beside them, Celeste's breath had already grown shallow with fury.
She had seen it—heard it. Caroline's suggestion had been measured and precise, directly helping Alexander secure cooperation with Andrew.
And then she had watched Alexander turn to Caroline and say, "Thank you."
He had thanked Caroline—the woman the world believed had caused the death of her own sister.
Celeste nearly erupted on the spot.
But the sting of her earlier defeat told her that if she lashed out now, it would only worsen Alexander's opinion of her.
She could not pretend nothing had happened.
Finally, she stood.
The movement drew every eye in the room.
"I... I'm not feeling well," Celeste said, her voice trembling with a suppressed sob. "Please excuse me."
She could not bear to watch Caroline bask in the praise she herself had long craved.
Without another glance, she turned sharply and left, almost fleeing, forgetting even her handbag.
"Celeste!" Alexander's face shifted, his voice instinctive as he called after her.
He looked toward Andrew with a flicker of apology. "Mr. Ford, forgive me. I should check on her."
Without another glance at Caroline, he strode out.
The lounge fell silent, leaving only Andrew and Caroline.
That brief moment of gratitude—like a fragile dream—was shattered instantly by Celeste's departure.
Caroline watched Alexander's back as he left, the ripple in her heart fading into stillness.
Of course... no matter what she did, the first person he would rush to was always Celeste.
Her value, however hard-won, was nothing against Celeste's tears.
She lowered her head, hiding the dimming of her eyes.
Andrew noticed.
With a soft sigh, he poured her a cup of tea himself, sliding it toward her. "Mrs. Hamilton, please... have some tea."
Caroline murmured a quiet thanks, accepting the cup.
Andrew studied the curve of her face, shadowed with loss. After a pause, he spoke, his tone deliberate. "Forgive my bluntness. I may have only just met you both, but I've lived long enough to see many people... many truths. Some things cannot be faked."
Caroline lifted her eyes to meet his, finding a depth in his gaze that was almost unsettling.
"You and Mr. Hamilton... you don't seem as close as the world believes. And that young woman who just left—Celeste—her intentions toward Mr. Hamilton, and her open hostility toward you... anyone with eyes could see it."
Caroline's body tensed, the reaction so slight it might have gone unnoticed by anyone else.
She hadn't expected Andrew to pierce through the veneer so directly.
She wanted to deny it, to cling to the last threads of dignity. But she knew—before a man like Andrew, seasoned in reading people—lies would crumble.
Her strength seemed to drain from her limbs.
Andrew read the sudden pallor of her face and understood.
He sighed again, gentler this time. "Marriage is like water—only those who drink it know its warmth or chill. I have no wish to pry into your privacy. But as someone whose life you saved, and who feels indebted, I will say this. Mrs. Hamilton... some burdens, we carry not because they are necessary, but because we cannot imagine setting them down. Life is long... and short. Sometimes, letting go of what weighs you down is the only way to see the wider horizon—to live, truly, for yourself."
Let go? Live for herself?
Caroline's heart gave a sudden, painful twist.
His words touched something deep—something she had kept locked away for years.
But the warmth that flickered there vanished almost as quickly.
Her first thought was not of her marriage to Alexander, but of Edith.
Yes... her deepest burden was not love for Alexander. It was the guilt over Edith's death—the debt she could never erase.
That guilt was a mountain, pressing down for five years, shaping who she had become.
How could she let it go?
Edith was her sister. Her sister who had died because of her.
To Caroline, forgetting would be the greater betrayal.
The struggle and pain in her eyes broke through at last.
She shook her head slowly, her lashes wet.
Andrew saw the sorrow that hung over her like a shadow and sighed once more.
Some knots no outsider could untangle. He said nothing more, only resting a warm hand briefly on her shoulder.
Then, as if recalling something, he shifted the subject.
"By the way, Mrs. Hamilton... I remember the Neville family had a pair of remarkable twin daughters, once the darlings of society. You are... the elder sister, or the younger?"
Caroline's entire body went rigid, her head snapping up. Her face drained of color in an instant.