Chapter 191

Chapter 191

Elizabeth's POV

"But it does have to do with me," I said. "Franklin got your parents killed, and he got my father killed too. We're the same."

Alexander looked at me, his eyes rimmed red. "Elizabeth, I don't want you dragged into this too."

"I already am," I said. "From the day my father died, and from the day we had this baby, I was already in it."

I reached over and placed my hand on top of his, where it rested on his knee. "You're not alone. You've been digging for the truth for fifteen years. Now you have me."

He lowered his head and looked at my hand covering his, but he didn't say anything.

Then, slowly, his fingers turned and closed around my hand. Tight. Like he was afraid I might let go.

We sat there like that, neither of us speaking again.

The envelope was still on the coffee table. Whatever was inside could destroy one man, and it could destroy an entire family.

But some things, once broken, stayed broken. There was no putting them back together.

The Windsor Family had fallen apart fifteen years ago. No one had just been willing to admit it.

"When are you going to look at it?" I asked.

"Tomorrow," he said. "It's too late tonight."

"I'll be with you."

He looked at me and was quiet for a moment. "Okay."

That night, Alexander didn't go back to his room. He lay down on the couch, and I covered him with a blanket.

When he closed his eyes, there was still a crease between his brows. Even in sleep, he never fully relaxed.

I sat beside him and watched him, thinking about what he'd said, about how he'd been searching for fifteen years.

Fifteen years of loneliness. Fifteen years of suspicion. Fifteen years of waiting.

And what had he gotten for it?

A notebook. A key that could unlock the truth.

But he didn't dare open it, because once he did, there would be no going back.

I reached out and gently smoothed the line between his brows.

His hand came up suddenly and caught my wrist. He still didn't open his eyes.

"Elizabeth."

"Yeah?"

"Don't go."

"I'm not going anywhere."

His fingers slowly loosened, and his breathing evened out.

I stayed beside him until dawn.

Alexander woke early the next morning.

When he sat up, the blanket slipped to the floor.

He bent down, picked it up, folded it neatly, and set it over the arm of the couch. Then he reached for the envelope on the coffee table.

"Now?" I asked.

"Now."

He opened it.

Inside was a notebook with a black cover, the corners worn soft, like it had been handled over and over.

Alexander opened to the first page. The handwriting was Aiden's. I recognized it immediately.

The pages were packed tight with dates, names, amounts, and coded notes.

Alexander turned the pages one by one, his expression unreadable. But I noticed the way his pace slowed, and the way his fingers tightened more with every page.

Halfway through, he stopped.

"What is it?" I asked.

He turned the notebook toward me.

A few lines were written there:

"Franklin's order: eliminate the Windsor Family couple. Method: car accident. Carried out by logistics company employee Jason Anderson. Payment: 30 million USD. Paid in full. Account: XXXXXX."

My head started buzzing.

That couple was obviously Alexander's parents.

I looked up at him.

His face had gone white, paper-white. His lips were pressed into a hard line, and his eyes were locked on those words like he could burn through the page if he stared long enough.

"Alexander."

No response.

"Alexander." I grabbed his hand.

He was shaking.

"Fifteen years," he said, his voice rough enough that I barely recognized it. "I've been looking for fifteen years."

His eyes were red, but he didn't cry. He never cried in front of me.

He closed the notebook, set it on the coffee table, stood up, and walked to the window.

His back was to me, his shoulders tight with strain.

I got up and wrapped my arms around him from behind.

His body went rigid for a second, then slowly eased.

He didn't turn around, and he didn't say anything. He just covered my hands where they were clasped around his waist.

So Alexander could be fragile too.

Morning had fully broken outside. Sunlight spilled into the garden, over the flowers, over the flowerbed Lisa had loosened the soil in yesterday.

Everything was so quiet. Too quiet for a morning when the truth had finally come to light.

"Alexander."

"Yeah."

"You're not alone anymore."

He didn't answer, but his hand tightened around mine.

I didn't know how much time passed before I heard the faintest sigh leave him.

Then his voice came, low and steady. "Are you hungry?"

I froze for a second.

The notebook was still open on the coffee table. Those words were still there, accusing someone line by line. And he was asking me if I was hungry.

"Are you okay?" I asked instead.

"I'm fine."

A lie, but I didn't call him on it.

We sat at the dining table while Lisa reheated breakfast. A bowl of porridge sat in front of Alexander, untouched. He only stirred it slowly with his spoon while steam rose up and blurred his face.

"Alexander." I set down my fork.

He looked up.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm giving the notebook to Grandpa," he said. "He can handle it."

"Do you think he will?"

Alexander fell silent for a moment.

I knew exactly what he was thinking.

Fifteen years ago, Alexander had taken the transfer record to Gray, and Gray had said there wasn't enough evidence to accuse anyone.

Now there was evidence. What would he do? Would he admit that his own son was a murderer? Would he hand Franklin over to the police? Or would he bury it again for the sake of the Windsor Family name?

"I don't know," Alexander said softly.

It was the first time he had said that.

Before this, he always had an answer for everything. Even when it wasn't what I wanted to hear, he still gave me one.

But this time, he said he didn't know.

And I believed him.

"When are you going?" I asked.

"Today."

"I'm going with you."

He looked at me, his lips parting like he wanted to say no, but in the end, nothing came out.

Maybe because he knew he couldn't stop me. Maybe because he didn't want to face it alone.

The drive to Windsor Estate passed under a bright, beautiful sky.

Sunlight streamed through the window and fell across Alexander's profile. His expression was calm, so calm that he looked like he was heading to an ordinary meeting.

But his knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and he drove much slower than usual, as if he were trying to hold back time.

I didn't rush him.

The gates of Windsor Estate were still open.

This time, they weren't cracked open. They stood wide, like they were waiting for someone.

The yard was as quiet as ever. Under the sycamore tree, koi drifted lazily through the stone pond, unaware of whatever had shattered inside the house.

Gray was still seated in the main sitting room, in the same high-backed chair, as if he had never moved at all.

When he saw us walk in, his gaze paused on Alexander, then shifted to me, and finally landed on the manila envelope in Alexander's hand.