Chapter 7 No Right to Breathe
The first thing Caroline registered when her eyes fluttered open was the sharp, sterile sting of antiseptic in the air.
She blinked, her mind struggling to piece itself together. The last thing she remembered was the clinic--Hannah's panicked face, and the tearing agony in her stomach, as if someone were ripping her apart from the inside.
"You are awake!" Lina's voice was bright with relief, though her eyes were swollen and rimmed red from crying.
Caroline turned her head and saw her sitting at the edge of the bed. Lina pressed the call button with a trembling hand as soon as their eyes met.
"What... happened to me?" Caroline's voice was hoarse, scraped raw.
"You collapsed. Internal bleeding in your stomach," Lina said tightly. "The doctor said it is acute ulcer bleeding--stress, poor diet, years of pushing yourself too hard. When they brought you in, your blood pressure was dangerously low. You almost..."
She did not finish, but Caroline understood.
Almost did not make it.
Maybe that would not have been so bad, she thought dimly.
But Lina's next words cut through the haze.
"When the doctors examined you..." Lina's lips quivered, tears spilling again, "...they saw your injuries. The bite marks on your arm. And... so many old scars. They asked me what happened, and I... I did not know what to say."
Caroline's hand instinctively pulled at the loose sleeve of the hospital gown. The bite marks were neatly bandaged, but the gown's wide collar could not hide the bruises scattered along her collarbone and neck.
Bruises Alexander had left.
"Lina... do not ask," she said weakly.
"But!" Lina's hand shot out, clutching Caroline's fingers. "Those injuries... they are not accidents, are they? Who did this? Was it Mr. Alexander Hamilton? Did he hit you? How could he--"
"Lina!" Caroline's voice spiked, sharp, before breaking into a fit of coughing.
Lina quickly poured water, steadying her so she could sip.
When Caroline caught her breath, she looked at Lina with something close to pleading. "Promise me you will not do anything. You will not say anything. All of this... I deserve."
"What do you mean, deserve?!" Lina's eyes widened. "No one deserves this! You are the kindest person I know. You have saved so many people. You should not have to live like this! I am calling the police, I am--"
"Do not!" Caroline's hand shot out, gripping Lina's wrist with surprising force.
"If you still think of me as your boss... as your friend... do not call the police. Please, Lina."
The shattered desperation in her eyes froze Lina mid-sentence. She could hardly reconcile the frail, battered woman in front of her with the confident, brilliant psychologist everyone once called a prodigy five years ago.
What had that tragedy destroyed?
"But... why?" Lina's voice cracked. "Why do you endure this? What did you do?"
Inside, Caroline screamed the answer, 'I killed my sister. I destroyed my family. I stole my sister's happiness. Living is the worst crime I have committed.'
But she did not speak it aloud. She only closed her eyes. "Lina... let me rest for a while. Please."
Lina wanted to argue, but the doctor and a nurse entered, forcing her to step aside.
The doctor examined her, his tone firm. "Ms. Neville, your ulcer is severe. You need at least a week of observation. You are malnourished, anemic, and have multiple contusions and lacerations, both old and new. As your physician, I have to ask--how did you get these injuries?"
Caroline stared at the ceiling, her gaze unfocused. "I... was careless."
The doctor did not believe her, but her refusal to engage left him with nothing but a sigh. "I will prescribe pain relief and nutrition therapy. Please rest. Emotional strain is a major trigger for your condition."
When they left, the room fell silent again.
Caroline felt drained, yet sleep would not come. She lay there, eyes fixed on the ceiling, mind blank.
She did not know how much time had passed before the door opened softly.
A figure stood in the doorway, hesitant.
Caroline turned her head--and froze.
It was her father.
Her throat tightened. "Dad..." The word broke on a sob.
Damon stepped in, setting a fruit basket on the bedside table. His eyes scanned her pale, hollow face, his lips twitching before he finally said, "Are you... alright?"
She nodded, but the tears came harder.
How long had it been since he had spoken to her in that calm tone? Since Edith's death, his gaze had been filled with pain and disappointment--until he stopped looking at her altogether.
He sat in the chair beside her bed, silent for a long time.
"Isabella... went to see you," he said suddenly.
Caroline's stomach knotted.
"That document..." Damon hesitated. "It was my decision."
Caroline closed her eyes.
She had suspected, but hearing him admit it felt like a blade driven straight through her chest.
"I was not trying to force you," Damon said, his voice uneven. "It is just... Celeste is thoughtful. She makes your mother smile. These past five years have been hard on her. Sometimes I see Celeste wearing Edith's favorite colors, her hair styled the way Edith liked, and... your mother laughs. I think... maybe that is something."
He looked at her, pain flickering in his eyes. "Caroline... I do not hate you. But every time I see you, I remember Edith. I remember that day in the morgue... she was so young. So cold."
His voice broke.
"I cannot live with that. I am sorry."
Five years, and she finally heard him say it.
But here, now... what was she supposed to feel? Relief? Closure? Why did it still hurt so much?
"Dad... I am the one who should apologize," she whispered. "I killed Edith. I ruined our family. You and Mom hate me, and that is right. I signed that document willingly. The Neville Family's legacy... was never meant for a criminal like me."
"Do not say that." Damon's hand lifted, as if to touch her hair, but stopped halfway. His gaze flicked to his watch, and his expression shifted.
"I have to go. Your mother does not know I am here. If she found out..."
He did not finish, but she understood.
If Isabella knew, she would rage.
"You should go," Caroline said, forcing a smile. "I am fine. Really."
He stood, looking at her one last time, his eyes heavy with something she could not name. Then he nodded and left quickly, as if fleeing something unbearable.
Caroline watched the door, tears sliding silently down her cheeks.
That brief warmth was like a match struck in winter--gone before it could truly warm her.
But at least he came.
At least he said "sorry."
Maybe that faint spark could carry her through a little longer.
When Lina left to fetch clothes and toiletries, Caroline lay alone, staring at the slow drip of fluid into the IV.
The door slammed open.
Alexander walked in, cold air clinging to him. He shut the door behind him and strode to her bed, towering over her.
"Playing sick suits you," he said, his voice dripping with familiar contempt.
Her heart sank.
"I am not pretending," she murmured.
"No?" He smirked, pulling back the blanket to glance at the IV and bandages. "Stomach bleeding? Too much stress? Caroline, you are good at excuses. What is the plan--hide in a hospital to dodge punishment? Or maybe use this pathetic act to win sympathy... from your father?"
Her head snapped toward him. "You--"
"How do I know?" He leaned down, bracing his hands on either side of her bed, his disgust plain. "This is Grandhaven. Nothing happens here without me knowing. Your father slipped in, stayed less than ten minutes, and left like a thief. Did you think that meant he forgave you? That he softened?"
"I did not..." Tears burned her eyes.
Why did she always cry in front of him?
"Wake up," Alexander said, straightening. "He came because he is weak. He cannot hate you like your mother does, but he cannot face you either. So he sneaks around, lying to himself. But remember..."
His hand clamped on her chin.
"No one will forgive you. Not your father. Not your mother. Not me. The only thing you are worth is living long enough to pay for what you have done. So stop these little games and play your role. Understand?"
She looked at him--at the face she had loved for years.
Once, those deep brown eyes had been full of tenderness for Edith.
Now, they held only hatred.
"I understand," she said, her voice hollow.
He wiped his fingers with a handkerchief, tossed it in the bin, and turned to leave.
At the door, he paused. "Tomorrow night there is a negotiation. You are coming. Dress properly. Do not embarrass me."
The door shut.
Caroline lay staring at the ceiling. The pain in her stomach was back.
But compared to the numbness in her chest, it was nothing.
When Lina returned, she found Caroline still staring upward, tears sliding into the pillow.
"Caroline..." Lina's voice trembled.
"Lina," Caroline whispered, "I deserve this. I should not be alive. Living... is my punishment."