Chapter 90 You'll Regret Killing Her
The doctor's forehead was slick with sweat now, beads rolling down his temples, but he forced himself to continue. "Her current mental state—she's attributed everything to a recent kidnapping incident."
Liam's head snapped toward the doctor, his eyes wide with shock.
Had this man lost his mind? What the hell was he saying?
Alexander and Caroline were legally married, even if their relationship was... complicated, to say the least.
And why was this idiot bringing up how she got those injuries? Everyone in this room knew exactly where they came from. He was practically painting a target on his own back.
Liam stepped forward quickly, trying to salvage the situation. "Doctor, what you're saying is that Mrs. Hamilton is... uh..."
He trailed off. Under the weight of Alexander's oppressive silence, he regretted even trying to help.
The doctor finally realized his mistake. He wanted to slap himself.
What had he been thinking?
Alexander remained silent.
The icy atmosphere threatened to freeze both men where they stood. They held their breath, trying not to make a sound.
Finally, Alexander looked up, his gaze settling on the top of the doctor's bowed head.
"Remove the blood clot from her brain."
The doctor's body jerked. He looked up instinctively, his voice uncertain. "Sir, you mean—"
His face drained of all color. His hands trembled.
But professional duty forced him to speak, to keep his voice as steady as possible despite the shock coursing through him.
"Sir, that's nearly impossible. It's a deep intracerebral hematoma, positioned right against the brainstem and several major nerve fiber tracts, not to mention critical arterial branches. Any attempt at surgical removal would carry an extremely high mortality rate. Mrs. Hamilton... the risk of her dying on the operating table is very real."
He paused, his expression grave. "Even if she survived, brainstem damage would almost certainly result in a permanent vegetative state. The current international neurosurgical consensus is that hematomas in this location can only be treated conservatively. We'd use medication to control intracranial pressure, maintain blood flow stability, and monitor closely, hoping her body can gradually absorb the clot over several weeks to months."
"How long." Alexander's voice was flat.
"Perhaps... a few months. Maybe a year or two..." The doctor's voice shook.
Alexander slowly rose from his chair and walked over to the doctor, leaning down slightly to stare into his terrified eyes.
"So what you're telling me is that from now on, I have to keep the woman who murdered someone I loved under my roof, and watch her look at me with those revolting eyes and call me her husband every single day?"
"I... I didn't mean..." The doctor stumbled backward, his face drained of color.
Liam's heart hammered in his chest, his palms slick with cold sweat.
He glanced at Alexander, whose face remained completely expressionless.
That blank mask was worse than any rage. Liam knew that beneath that calm exterior, a storm was brewing—one powerful enough to tear Ravenwood Manor apart.
He knew he should say something, should try to intervene, but he had no idea what words could possibly defuse the fury building inside Alexander.
Alexander let out a low, bitter laugh.
"This is what I get? Really?"
He laughed and shook his head.
He'd kept her alive so she could pay for what she'd done—consciously, deliberately, piece by piece. So she could atone for her sins while fully aware of every moment.
And now? She'd forgotten everything.
She'd forgotten how Edith died. She thought he was her loving husband. She believed the marks he'd left on her body during their brutal encounters were inflicted by strangers.
It was absurd.
And the worst part? Alexander remembered exactly how she'd gotten that head injury. He'd kicked her into the wall in the basement.
His laughter stopped abruptly.
A deafening crash made Liam flinch.
He looked up to see Alexander's fist slamming into the desk. The heavy wood surface dented slightly under the impact. Blood welled from his split knuckles, trailing along the wood grain. Alexander didn't seem to notice.
In the next instant, he spun around and stormed out of the study.
"Sir!" Liam's chest tightened. He rushed after him.
Alexander took the stairs two at a time, heading straight for the kitchen. He yanked a boning knife from the block, the blade gleaming under the overhead lights.
The kitchen staff froze, their faces pale with fear.
With the knife in hand, he strode back toward the stairs.
"Sir! What are you doing? Put the knife down! This is dangerous!" Liam lunged forward, throwing his arms out to block Alexander's path.
Alexander sidestepped him without breaking stride, his voice like ice. "Since the doctor won't remove the clot from her brain, I will."
Liam froze, a chill flooding his veins. "No! Sir! It's a deep intracerebral hematoma! The doctor said—touching it will kill her! She'll die! Please, you have to calm down!"
"Move."
"I can't! Sir, I'm begging you, don't do this!" Liam planted himself at the base of the stairs, refusing to budge, his eyes red-rimmed with desperation.
"Get out of my way!" Alexander's patience snapped. He shoved Liam aside with one arm.
Liam stumbled backward, his spine slamming into the banister. He grunted in pain.
As Alexander moved to go around him, Liam threw himself forward and wrapped both arms around Alexander's waist from behind.
"Let go!" Alexander roared, trying to shake him off.
Liam held on with everything he had, his arms locked tight even as Alexander dragged him forward, step by step.
"Sir! Please! Think about Ms. Edith Neville! Mrs. Hamilton was her sister—her beloved sister! If Mrs. Hamilton dies, then..." Liam's words came out in a frantic rush.
"Good! Let her die!" Alexander's voice was a guttural snarl. "It'll be over! I won't have to look at her anymore! She needs to remember! She needs to be conscious and aware of what she did! She doesn't get to escape with this pathetic delusion!"
"But you'll regret it! Sir!" Liam finally screamed the truth he'd been holding back.
He dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face. "Sir, please! Just... just think about it! Every time Mrs. Hamilton gets hurt, you panic, don't you? You... you can't tell me you feel nothing for her."