Chapter 202 When You Get Better, We'll Hold the Wedding
Alexander gently stroked her hair and said softly, "Once you recover, we'll have our wedding ceremony again. You'll be the most beautiful bride in the world. I know you love red, so I'll lay out a long path of red roses, stretching from the church entrance all the way to our home. You'll love it, won't you?"
On the evening of the third day, the sea breeze could no longer mask the strong stench of decay, and the air was filled with buzzing flies.
Mark finally reached his breaking point.
He brought the doctor and two bodyguards and flung open the villa door.
The moment they saw Alexander, everyone froze.
In just three days, his face had become gaunt, his features sharp as a blade, his beard unkempt, like a specter risen from the depths of hell.
His hair had turned completely white.
Hearing the door open, Alexander stopped brushing Caroline's hair.
He whipped around, his eyes flashing with icy killing intent, drew the pistol from his waist, and aimed it at the doorway.
"Get out."
"Sir! This can't go on! Mrs. Hamilton and Miss Hamilton are already..." Mark's voice carried pain.
"I said get out!" Alexander roared, his finger moving toward the trigger.
In that critical moment, Mark rushed forward and knocked aside his gun hand.
A gunshot exploded.
The bullet grazed past the doctor's feet and embedded in the floor. The doctor froze in place, his face deathly pale.
"Quick! Restrain him! Inject him!" Mark held the wildly struggling Alexander and shouted to the doctor.
The two bodyguards snapped to action and helped pin him down.
The doctor's hands trembled as he opened the first aid kit, took out a strong sedative, and jabbed it into the side of his neck.
"Ahhh—!"
Alexander let out a heart-wrenching roar.
"Let me go! You animals! I'll kill you all! Caroline... my wife, I'll save you, I will..."
His voice gradually weakened, his strength faded, and his consciousness began to blur.
He struggled to extend his hand, reaching toward the bed.
Just a little more, and he could touch Caroline's hand.
But he grasped nothing.
His arm fell limply, and his vision plunged into complete darkness.
When Alexander opened his eyes again, he saw a ceiling that was both familiar and strange.
For a few seconds, his mind went blank.
This was the master bedroom of Ravenwood Manor in Grandhaven.
This was where he and Caroline had lived during the few peaceful days in their five-year marriage, after she lost her memory.
Could it be... everything he experienced was just a fever dream?
Yes! He remembered having a rare high fever, Caroline taking care of him, yet he had been cold to her.
So they never went to the island, and there was no child?
Caroline wasn't dead? There was still time?
Wild joy surged through Alexander's heart. He sat up abruptly, but froze when he looked at the bed.
The other side was empty, the sheets flat and cold, with no trace of anyone having lain there.
No, impossible.
It must be that his bad attitude hurt her feelings, so she went to the guest room.
Alexander raised his hand and slapped himself hard across the face.
"I'm such a damn bastard! Why did I hurt her back then?"
He cursed himself, immediately threw off the covers, and rushed barefoot out of the room, heading straight for the guest bedroom.
"Caroline? Caroline!"
He pushed open the door. The guest room was empty, the air filled with the musty smell of long disuse.
Alexander stood frozen in the doorway.
A moment later, he spun around and ran toward the stairs.
"Kenna? Liam!"
"Where's Caroline? Tell me!"
No footsteps, no response.
The entire manor was silent as death.
His heart sank bit by bit.
Suddenly, hurried footsteps came from below the stairs.
Alexander looked down, hope flashing in his eyes.
But the person who appeared was Mark.
His face was haggard, deep shadows under his eyes, clearly having not slept for days.
The moment he saw Mark, the light in Alexander's eyes died completely.
It wasn't a dream.
Without special orders, Liam would never leave him.
And now Mark was here.
That meant everything that happened on the island... was real.
"Sir—ah!"
Mark had barely opened his mouth when Alexander, consumed with rage, rushed over and grabbed him by the collar.
"Where's my Caroline?! Where's the child?! Where did you hide them?!"
Mark was being choked, struggling to breathe, and managed to gasp out: "Down... stairs... sir... in the open casket..."
Alexander's hands suddenly lost all strength and released him.
He staggered backward, stood dazed for a moment, then spun around and stumbled down the stairs.
"Sir! Be careful!"
Mark reached out to stop him but couldn't prevent him from falling.
Alexander ignored the pain, scrambled to his feet, and looked up to see the huge open casket in the center of the hall.
His knees went weak, and he collapsed to the floor, crawling toward the casket.
Finally, he reached it.
Through the transparent lid, he saw Caroline lying quietly at the bottom, surrounded by flowers.
She wore that red silk dress, her long hair neatly combed, her face made up beautifully, the missing part of her head covered by a red rose.
She held their daughter in her arms.
The baby had been changed into clean infant clothes and wore a white soft cap. Her little face was round, her skin soft and delicate, also lightly made up.
She nestled against Caroline's chest, her little mouth gently pursed, as if she might wake up any second and smile at him.
Alexander stared at them, his gaze slowly tracing over their features.
Mark walked up behind him and slowly knelt down.
"Sir... while you were unconscious, I brought Mrs. Hamilton and Miss Hamilton back here and had them prepared. I couldn't leave them in that place, and I couldn't bear to watch you torture yourself any longer. I remember Liam once said that Mrs. Hamilton loved this home, and you also loved the quiet times here. So I brought them back. I know I overstepped. Whatever punishment you decide, I'll accept it."