Chapter 104 He Kicked Me Out, Right?

Chapter 104 He Kicked Me Out, Right?

Caroline noticed the change too.

Her cheeks burned. Her gaze jerked away. She hurriedly finished applying the ointment, fumbling as she helped Alexander into fresh pajamas, then stripped the soiled sheets and replaced them with clean ones.

This time, Alexander didn't resist.

Or rather, he chose to cooperate.

Because the moment he'd felt that humiliating physical response, he'd squeezed his eyes shut and said nothing.

It wasn't until she settled him back against the pillows that he finally shook off the mortifying haze.

Wait. Why was it so quiet?

He opened his eyes, confused.

Turning his head, he saw her standing by the nightstand, quietly gathering the soiled linens and used cotton swabs.

She bent slightly at the waist, her movements careful, as if afraid to disturb him.

Alexander's gaze drifted to her without thinking.

That's when he noticed—Caroline was wearing nothing but his oversized white dress shirt.

The hem barely covered the top half of her thighs. Below that, her legs were bare. Long, pale, exposed.

With her leaning forward, the collar gaped open. From his angle on the bed, he could see the curve of her collarbone, the soft swell beneath—

She'd been walking around the room like this?

The realization sent a fresh wave of heat through his already fever-addled brain.

Before he could think, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

"Ah!" Caroline yelped, caught off guard. She tumbled forward, landing on the bed beside him.

Her first instinct wasn't to steady herself. It was to check on him. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Your burns—"

Alexander didn't answer.

His arm locked around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

He looked down. The shirt had shifted even more from her fall. He could see everything now. She wasn't wearing a bra.

"You saw the doctor like this?"

Caroline's eyes went wide. "No! No, I—it was an emergency, I couldn't find anything else to wear, and you were so sick, I couldn't leave you, I didn't have time to change—"

His expression darkened. The quieter her voice became, the heavier the air felt.

The thought of the family doctor seeing her like this made something ugly and possessive flare in Alexander's chest.

"Get out." He released her waist abruptly, shoving her away.

Caroline stumbled, nearly falling off the bed.

She caught herself, standing beside the mattress, staring at him in confusion.

She didn't understand. Things had been fine a moment ago. Why was he suddenly so cold? Was it because she'd worn his shirt? Did he hate her touching his things? Did he think she was dirty?

A weight settled in her chest. But she didn't ask. She just lowered her head, tugging the oversized shirt tighter around herself, and said softly, "Get some rest."

Then she picked up the bundle of soiled linens and left the room.

The door clicked shut.

Alexander lay there, alone. The heat in his chest didn't fade. If anything, it burned hotter after that glimpse down her shirt.

His cock throbbed, hard and aching.

If he hadn't pushed her away just now…

He hated this loss of control.

Hated that his body reacted to her. Hated that the sight of her—disheveled, vulnerable, half-dressed—made him want things he shouldn't.

Alexander slammed his fist into the mattress, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration.

Caroline dropped the linens off in the laundry room, then headed back to the guest bedroom.

First priority: change out of this shirt that had made him so angry.

She walked to the closet and pulled the door open.

Then she froze.

The closet was nearly empty. Just a few pieces of clothing hung inside.

All white or pale neutrals. Simple cuts. Cotton and linen dresses. A couple of basic cardigans and plain trousers.

Dull colors. Styles she didn't recognize as her own.

She frowned, running her fingers over a cream-colored cotton dress.

The fabric was soft. The size looked right. It had to be hers.

But when had she bought these? She had no memory of it.

Ever since waking up after the kidnapping, her memory felt shrouded in fog.

Not fragmented. Not incomplete. Just… gone.

She remembered Alexander was her husband. She remembered they'd been in love. She remembered he'd been good to her, though he didn't like her going out.

But the details of their five years together? Completely erased. Not a single clear image remained.

Only a vague impression: she'd spent most of her time in some house. But it didn't seem like this villa.

She tapped her temple lightly, trying to remember. The fog refused to lift.

And then another question surfaced, one she'd been ignoring.

Why were they sleeping in separate rooms?

That didn't make sense.

Before the accident, they'd been a loving couple. Devoted.

So why weren't they sharing a bed?

Was it because of what happened? Did he find her disgusting now? Had he kicked her out of the master bedroom?

Her chest tightened painfully.

No. That couldn't be it. Alexander loved her.

But if he loved her, why were all her clothes gone? Why did she only have these strange, plain things left?

Where were her old clothes? She hadn't found them in the master bedroom's walk-in closet either.

Had he thrown them all away?

"Ma'am?" Kenna's voice came softly from the doorway.

Kenna stepped inside carrying a tray. "I brought you something to eat. I went to Mr. Hamilton's room, but you weren't there… Are you all right?"

Caroline turned around, her confusion written all over her face. She gestured at the nearly empty closet.

"Kenna, something's wrong. Why do I only have these clothes left? And why am I not sleeping in the same room as Alexander? Is it because of… what happened? Does he find me disgusting now? Did he make me move out?"