Chapter 213 Great Danger, Slim Hope
Della immediately straightened up, bowed her head respectfully, and said, "Sir, what do you need?"
Alexander slowly looked away and turned his gaze back to the crystal-clear open casket, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing the cold edge of the coffin lid.
He was silent for a few seconds before speaking slowly.
"Find a place with nice scenery. It needs to be big enough for four burial plots. Put the largest one in the middle, then place three smaller ones around it, surrounding the center."
He paused, as if picturing the scene in his mind, his voice growing softer.
"The middle one should be spacious, facing the sun. Ideally, there should be a tree nearby to provide some shade, but not completely block the light. She was afraid of the cold but liked reading in sunny spots in the afternoon. The three plots beside it should be close, but not too cramped. One of them should have a small patch of ground next to it where flowers can be planted—she liked roses."
Alexander tried his best to recall everything Caroline might have liked, afraid that he didn't really know her at all, and even more afraid that he wasn't giving her enough.
He closed his eyes and silently said in his heart, "Caroline, if you're not too opposed to seeing me again, please visit me in my dreams just once. Just once, no more, no less. Let me know what you like."
Della froze.
She carefully lifted her eyes, her heart tightening as she seemed to understand something.
She asked hesitantly, "Sir, are you planning to bury Mrs. Hamilton and Miss Hamilton, along with... those others?"
Alexander did not answer.
He took one last deep look at his wife and daughter's faces in the open casket, then turned and walked toward the hall exit with unsteady steps.
Della stood there, stunned for a long while, then suddenly turned to look at the open casket.
Her nose prickled, and tears nearly fell.
She sniffed hard, bowed toward the open casket, and said, "I'll do my best to arrange it."
Outside, Mark's car had been waiting for some time.
Alexander opened the door, got in, and closed his eyes.
Liam and the others were people Caroline trusted.
He imagined that over there, with them accompanying and looking after Caroline, perhaps she would not be afraid in that other world.
He remembered she was very timid, afraid of the dark, afraid of being alone, afraid of unfamiliar environments, so he hoped that even there, she would have familiar people watching over her.
The car started and drove toward the airport.
Alexander boarded the plane, flying toward Ashbourne on the other side of the Atlantic.
There was one last thing he had to finish.
In Ashbourne, at the castle where Isabella was staying, the place was already in chaos.
"Useless! All of you are useless! A living person has been missing for almost a month, and you haven't found a single useful lead! What do I keep you around for?! If anything happens to Celeste, you can all go beg on the streets!"
Isabella stood in the hall with her hands on her hips, yelling at the servants and bodyguards.
Celeste had been missing for over half a month.
She had exhausted every connection she had, but Celeste had vanished as if she had evaporated, with no news at all.
This was not a good sign.
What if she had been taken by Alexander's or Damon's people...
Isabella shuddered, not daring to think further.
"Go find her now!" Isabella raised her hand, ordering them toward the door.
But her subordinates looked at each other, and no one dared to move.
After all this time with no news, it could only mean one thing: Celeste was probably in grave danger.
But no one dared say it out loud.
"Why aren't you going?!" Isabella roared, grabbing an antique vase and about to throw it at the nearest maid.
The maid screamed in fright, covering her head.
"Madam, please calm down..." The butler suddenly hurried into the hall, waving for the frightened maid to step back.
"Is there news?" Isabella immediately looked at him.
The butler nodded, then shook his head, lowering his voice. "Our people found that about twenty days ago, someone with a fake passport named Vivian flew from Valloria to Grandhaven. Based on the blurry immigration footage and body shape comparison, it's very likely Ms. Celeste Neville."
"Grandhaven?!"
Isabella's face instantly turned pale.
She certainly knew why Celeste had secretly returned to Grandhaven.
That fool must have been uneasy about Alexander helping the Neville Group through their difficulties last time, so she rushed to kill Caroline.
But did she not know Alexander was a madman?
He had once tormented Caroline because he could not let go of Edith, and now he could torment others because of Caroline.
If he wanted to protect Caroline, he would never let anyone succeed.
"That idiot! More trouble than she's worth!"
Isabella trembled with rage.
"Who does she think she is? If she did not look like Edith, she'd be completely worthless! How dare she provoke him—is she looking to die or playing with fire?!"
Soon, Isabella realized a harsh reality.
With Celeste missing for so long, things looked grim.
Would she be next?
No! She could not stay here waiting to die!
Isabella spun around and barked at the butler, "Quick! Pack everything! Take all the cash, jewelry, bearer bonds, and the most important documents! We're going to Montelucia immediately! No, somewhere farther! Straight to San Aurelia! Leave now!"
"Yes, madam!" The butler knew the situation was serious and quickly responded, turning to make arrangements.
However, just as he turned around, the hall door was kicked open from outside!
The old butler, caught off guard, was hit square in the chest by the door flying back at him. He screamed and was thrown backward, crashing heavily onto the Persian-carpeted floor.
He made no further sound, passing out immediately.
"Ah!"
Isabella was frozen in terror, stumbling backward and collapsing into a large armchair, staring at the doorway.
The cool morning light poured through the broken doorway, and a tall figure slowly walked in against the light.
Isabella froze after just one glance.
It was Alexander.
The devil had appeared after all.
But he had changed so much.
In just a few months, he seemed to have aged twenty years, his brown hair almost completely white.
He looked lifeless, as if there was nothing left in the world worth holding onto, as if he might raise a gun and shoot himself without hesitation the next second.
Something terrible must have happened.