Chapter 122 Edith's Love Letter
Alexander's hand froze an inch from the doorknob.
'I've lost my mind.'
The thought roared through his head.
Today, he had nearly slaughtered the entire Neville family for Caroline.
And now, simply because he heard her scream, he wanted to burst through this door?
What could he possibly do?
Could he take her pain away? Make the wound vanish?
More importantly—why the hell did he care about Caroline at all?
Liam had followed the moment Alexander stormed out of the study. Now he stood a few feet back, watching his employer frozen at the threshold. Something unreadable flickered in his eyes.
He stepped forward, keeping his voice low.
"Sir, the nurse said Mrs. Hamilton doesn't respond well to anesthesia, so she has to endure it. Screaming might actually help with the pain. If you go in, Mrs. Hamilton will probably try to hold it in. She won't want you to worry. That will only make it worse."
Alexander's back was to him. His shoulders went rigid.
He didn't turn around. His fingers curled into fists.
"Who said... I'm worried about her."
His voice came out rough, barely audible.
Liam stared at his employer's straight back. Something shifted in his expression, but he said nothing more. He simply lowered his head.
Of course. Who would ever worry about her?
Alexander stood there for a long time. The screams from inside gradually faded. Only then did he turn and walk back to the study.
Liam followed him in.
"Sir, Kenna said Mrs. Hamilton came back with a metal box. She said the person who saved her gave it to her, told her it contained a huge secret. But she didn't have time to look before she left."
"Bring it here. Let me see."
Alexander didn't look up.
He needed a distraction—anything—to stop the chaos churning through his head.
Liam returned quickly with the box.
Alexander took it. It was wrapped in layers of waterproof canvas, small enough to fit in his palm. He turned it over in his hands, frowning.
What kind of huge secret could fit in something this small?
He waved Liam away.
Liam nodded, left the room, and closed the door softly behind him.
Alexander forced himself to focus, peeling away the canvas layers one by one.
Inside was an old-fashioned silver metal box. The edges showed no obvious wear, barely any scratches.
Whoever owned it had taken care of it.
He flipped the latch and lifted the lid.
The first thing he saw was a heap of tiny origami hearts in bright colors.
Alexander frowned and picked up the top one.
It was tiny. Through the creases, he could see writing inside.
He unfolded it slowly.
As the paper spread open, lines of delicate, slightly childish handwriting appeared.
Alexander's pupils contracted sharply.
Edith's handwriting.
He would know it anywhere.
Her writing had always been beautiful—graceful, with that particular lightness girls had. He had seen it countless times: birthday cards, holiday notes, the occasional playful message she left him.
But this letter—
Alexander's eyes flew across the page.
Every line dripped with girlish shyness, sweet anxieties, secret hopes, quiet sadness.
This was a love letter.
[I saw you in the garden again today. You looked so good in that white shirt. The sunlight fell across your shoulders. I didn't dare breathe too loud.]
[I know there might be obstacles between us. But my heart won't listen.]
[Every time I hear your voice, my heart races.]
[Please don't make me wait too long. I'm afraid this is just a dream.]
Every word was sincere, burning with the purest feelings of a young girl.
He didn't know who Edith had written this to.
But—it definitely wasn't him.
Alexander's hand trembled slightly as he held the paper.
He had always known Edith loved someone. Always known it wasn't him.
All these years, he had lied to himself. Maybe she did like him. After all, he had never seen another man around her.
Maybe she just hadn't realized her own feelings. Or maybe his proposal had been too sudden, too frightening.
Even in the dead of night, when he dreamed of her rejecting him, that small belief kept him going. Made him think he had a chance. Only made him resent Caroline even more.
Until today. Until this letter.
Alexander's hands began to shake violently. He unfolded the remaining hearts one by one.
Each one was another love letter—another piece of a girl's heart.
Edith had poured everything into these notes: her joys, her sorrows. Sometimes Alexander could see dried tearstains on the paper.
Tears that had fallen from her eyes, clear as glass.
Once, just seeing her cry would have torn him apart. He would have done anything to wipe those tears away gently.
But these tears had never been for him.
Alexander's chest began to ache—sharp and relentless—like something inside him was mourning, crying out for love wasted years ago.
But then he realized something startling.
Not one bit of this pain came from Edith not loving him.
He was just... sad for who he used to be.
At the same moment, Isabella's wild shriek echoed in his ears—
"Alexander, what you can't let go of—is it really Edith? Or are you just clinging to the version of yourself who loved her?!"
Alexander shuddered. The love letter slipped from his fingers, drifting down onto the desk.
He wanted to ask himself—what had he been holding onto all these years?
But he suddenly realized he didn't have the courage to face that question.
Then his gaze fell on the bottom of the metal box.
No more paper hearts.
But there was something else—a small white card.
Alexander reached in, pulled it out, and turned it over.
A photograph.
And the image on it made his heart stop cold.