Chapter 222 Chapter 222
In the dream, adult Nicholas was like a ghostly spectator, watching his own tragedy unfold. He observed how dangerously quiet and broken his younger self was.
He waited for days in the dark, until the Wolf family finally sent the ransom.
But they also sent the police.
When the kidnappers heard the sirens, their panic turned to murderous rage. They wanted to kill him right there. They threw him into the trunk of a car and sped away, driving like madmen along the winding mountain road.
When the police closed in, the criminals, cornered and desperate, drove the car toward the cliff.
He was lucky. Cursed lucky.
He had been thrown from the car before the fatal fall. He was hanging on the edge of the abyss when a young police officer reached him, grabbing his arm and pulling him back to solid ground with superhuman effort.
Just when everyone thought the boy was safe... one of the surviving kidnappers emerged from the wreckage, raised his gun, and fired, driven by pure hatred.
The target was Nicholas.
But the police officer who had just saved him did not hesitate. He threw himself in front of the boy.
He took the shot.
And then, Nicholas' dream world was flooded with red.
Warm, fresh blood spurted from the police officer's chest, staining his dark uniform with a grotesque, bright color.
The young cop's eyes widened. There was an expression of pain, shock, and deep longing on his face before the light of life went out and he stopped moving forever.
After being tortured and beaten for three whole days in the basement, the boy Nicholas had not shed a single tear. But there, kneeling on the dirty earth, as his savior's blood soaked his childish hands, the tears came like a broken dam.
This scene had haunted him for years. The perfect nightmare.
Watching the red pool spread in the dream, the adult Nicholas felt an excruciating stab in his heart. The pain radiated to his extremities, paralyzing him. The air fled his lungs. He was suffocating.
He watched the hero die for him, again and again. And once more, he was useless. There was nothing he could do.
Guilt and despair engulfed him like a dark ocean.
If it weren't for me, he would be alive. He would have returned to his family. If I weren't so weak...
“Nicholas!”
He was drowning in the spiral of trauma, waiting for the darkness to take him. But suddenly, a soft, velvety voice cut through the echo of gunshots. Someone was calling him with urgency and raw concern.
“Nicholas... Nicholas, wake up!”
He felt a small, warm hand grasp his. A warmth he had never known in the darkness of that cliff began to seep into his skin.
His body, frozen by panic, began to thaw. The ocean of red blood receded, and a soft beam of light illuminated the shadows.
...
When Nicholas opened his eyes abruptly, his chest rising and falling in erratic breaths, the first thing he saw was Caroline's pale, worried face under the dim light of the lamp.
“You're awake.” Caroline let out a shaky sigh, using the sleeve of her nightgown to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead.
Her eyebrows were furrowed, her eyes filled with anguish. “What were you dreaming about? I had to call you several times. You couldn't hear me.”
She placed her hand over her own heart, trying to calm her breathing. “You scared me so much, Nicholas.”
She wasn't exaggerating.
Caroline had woken up in the middle of the night thirsty. But when she turned on the lamp, she found her husband—usually so strong and unshakable—writhing in the sheets, pale as a ghost, sweating cold sweat, and with an expression of devastating agony.
She thought he was having a heart attack. She called out to him, shook him, but he was trapped in the nightmare.
If he hadn't woken up at that second, she would have called an ambulance.
Nicholas was still disoriented, the line between the bloody past and the safe present still blurred. He blinked, focusing on Caroline's angelic face.
Suddenly, driven by a primitive survival instinct, he raised his arms and pulled her violently toward him.
Taken by surprise, Caroline lost her balance and fell with a muffled thud onto his broad chest.
Her ear was pressed directly against his heart. The sound was deafening. Nicholas's heart was beating so fast and so hard that it seemed to want to escape from his ribs. His strong arms wrapped around her like steel claws, pressing her against him as if she were his only anchor to reality.
Caroline immediately noticed his state of shock. The formidable man had broken down.
Although she had no idea of the horrors he had witnessed in his mind, she asked no questions. She did not try to pull away. At that moment, she simply returned his embrace, lying obediently and wrapping her arms around his waist, stroking his back in a slow, soothing rhythm.
She remained silent, letting the warmth of her body drive away his ghosts.
Slowly... Nicholas's frantic heartbeat began to slow. His rhythm returned to normal. The overwhelming tension in his muscles dissipated, and the arms that had been crushing her relaxed, becoming a protective and exhausted embrace.
Feeling that the crisis had passed, Caroline leaned against his chest and gently raised her upper body, turning onto her side so she could face him.
“Was it a bad nightmare?” she asked, her voice no more than a gentle whisper.
His skin still glistened with sweat. Caroline took some tissues from the bedside table and, with infinite patience, dried his forehead and tense jaw.
As she was about to wipe the sweat from his chin, Nicholas raised his hand. He gently held her wrist, turned her small hand over, and placed a long, reverent kiss on the center of her palm.
His breath was warm against her skin.
“Why were you awake?” His voice came out incredibly deep and hoarse. “Did I scream? Did I wake you up?”
Caroline shook her head, her hair falling over her shoulders. “No. I had woken up to drink some water. You weren't talking, you were just... suffering in silence.”
She bit her lip, curiosity and concern battling inside her. “What... were you dreaming about?”
Nicholas's eyes were still dark and slightly red, carrying the weight of an old grief. He was silent for a long moment, his gaze lost on her face, before shaking his head in denial.
The wall of the ruthless CEO rose again.
“It was nothing.” He forced his voice to sound indifferent, though it failed slightly. “Just a silly nightmare. Don't worry about me, Carol. Go back to sleep.”
Caroline narrowed her eyes, watching him silently.