Chapter 227 Can't See Her Even in My Dreams Anymore
Edith was beaten until blood poured from her nose and mouth, her cheeks swelling instantly, only broken gasps escaping her throat.
Alexander spoke slowly, "Don't let her die too quickly, Alexander. Caroline suffered for a long time before she died. If Edith goes too easily, that wouldn't be fair at all."
He leaned forward slightly, staring at Linus's unfocused eyes. "That list I had sent to you—did you read it? Do you know how to 'take care' of them now?"
Linus breathed heavily, mumbling like a mantra, "I am Alexander... I know... the list... revenge... revenge for Caroline..."
With trembling hands, Linus tore at Edith's already shredded nightgown, then pressed his body down on hers.
Alexander watched as these two people who had inflicted countless suffering on Caroline now writhed together before him like animals. The scene brought him no satisfaction. Instead, the hollow space in his chest filled with an even colder wind.
After a moment, he found it tedious and waved at Mark.
Mark immediately understood, pushing the wheelchair toward the door.
As they passed Linus, still lost in his violent frenzy, Alexander turned his head slightly.
"Oh, by the way, remember, Alexander."
Linus's movements paused, his clouded eyes struggling to focus.
Alexander gave him a cold smile. "Don't let her get pregnant. Did you hear that clearly?"
Linus nodded confusedly.
Alexander's smile deepened, but his gaze was lightless. "Because Caroline's child is already gone. Edith doesn't deserve to have a child. Do you understand?"
A cruel light flashed in Linus's eyes. He lowered his head, bit into Edith's shoulder, and made a muffled response.
Edith screamed, then passed out. Linus seemed oblivious, continuing to vent on her body with an almost ecstatic expression.
Watching Linus's frenzied excitement, two words surfaced in Alexander's mind: wild dog, beast.
Just like himself back then.
Nausea rose from his stomach. Alexander bent over the wheelchair and vomited violently.
---
The night deepened, and Ravenwood Manor fell silent.
On the cold living room floor, Alexander propped himself up using the sofa, fumbled to change his clothes, and dragged a huge hiking backpack from under the cabinet.
He picked up the crutch beside his makeshift bed, struggled to hoist the heavy pack onto his shoulder, swayed slightly, then gritted his teeth and took a step forward.
Though the cast had been removed, his bones and muscles were far from healed.
Each step felt like someone was twisting his injured leg with a dull knife.
Alexander's face showed no expression. He just clenched his teeth and slowly left Ravenwood Manor, walking alone along the mountain path toward the cemetery.
The night pressed low, and the mountain path was rough and steep.
He fell again and again, his palms and knees scraped by gravel, blood mixing with dirt. Old wounds layered with new ones.
But he just silently propped himself up, brushed off the dust, picked up his crutch, and walked forward once more.
Finally, Alexander saw the sign on the iron gate: Riverside Memorial Park.
The caretaker seemed to have received instructions beforehand. Without a word or any surprise, he glanced at Alexander and opened the side gate.
Alexander passed through rows of quiet tombstones, his footsteps pressing shallow marks into the soft grass, finally stopping in the newly developed east section where white irises grew everywhere.
A new black marble tombstone stood in the center, simple and polished, bearing only a name and dates.
Caroline.
No surname Neville, no mention of the Hamilton family. Those names that were almost universally known in Grandhaven didn't deserve to appear alongside hers, in Alexander's view. He felt that carving those names would drag her back into a past he would rather erase completely.
Behind her were three more tombstones arranged in a semi-circle, slightly taller than Caroline's, as if deliberately shielding her from wind and rain.
To the right of Caroline's tombstone was a very small one with no name, no engravings—only its position made clear it was for the child.
When Alexander reached the tombstone, all his strength drained away at once. His knees buckled, and he collapsed heavily onto the cold earth. After gasping for breath, he slowly removed the huge backpack from his shoulders.
Unzipping it, he took out items one by one, each movement as if handling something fragile, laying them piece by piece in front of the tombstone until they covered that small patch of ground.
A miniature model of an island villa, a pile of new baby supplies in various styles, several sets of women's clothing and accessories—all the latest from this season, each with a different style.
He also brought beautifully packaged pastries, chocolates, and fresh fruit.
These colorful items piled in front of the tombstone looked almost like a birthday party without a host.
Then he took out disinfectant wipes from the bag, pulled one out, and began wiping Caroline's tombstone bit by bit, from top to bottom, unwilling to miss any corner. As he wiped, he murmured.
"I brought a lot of things, Caroline... I don't know what you need now, or what you'd like. Everything I could think of, I brought."
"If there's still something missing, or if you don't like these, just... tell Della in a dream, okay?"
"I know you don't want to appear in my dreams, so just tell Della. Telling Della would be enough..."
His gaze rested on the island villa model, his eyes going blank.
"I brought the model of the island villa too. That place... that time there..."
He struggled to find words, trying to describe that brief and false "happiness," but before he could finish, his expression suddenly froze.
The next second, he raised his hand and slapped himself hard.
"No... that's not right."
He shook his head, tears falling uncontrollably.
"That wasn't you... back then you thought you were Edith... that wasn't what you would have liked... that doesn't count at all..."
Alexander broke down completely.
He threw himself at the tombstone, wrapping his arms around that cold stone, holding it tight, as if the moment he let go, she would leave again.
"What should I do... Caroline... tell me... what should I do now..."
He cried out uncontrollably, his entire upper body hitting the tombstone with each sob, his forehead striking heavily against the marble, making dull thuds.
"I don't even know what you really liked... I don't know anything... I'm just a bastard, a blind idiot..."
"I was wrong... I really know I was wrong... tell me, what else can I do... tell me how to make amends... please speak..."
Blood slowly flowed from the wound on his forehead, running down along his brow, seeping into his eyes, blurring his vision into red.
Until his body could no longer hold up, and he could no longer lift his head.
Alexander just leaned against the now blood-stained cold tombstone, sobbing softly, as if making a final plea.
"Tell me... Caroline... please... tell me..."
Dawn broke.
The first ray of morning sunlight fell on Alexander's face, and he finally lifted his eyelids.
People had begun arriving at the cemetery. When passing by, they cast either strange or pitying glances at the disheveled Alexander.
Alexander sat dazed on the ground, suddenly remembering that last night had again been dreamless.
He couldn't see Caroline anymore.
Panic seized him. He stumbled to his feet, then fell heavily again.
Alexander gritted his teeth, crawled up using both hands and feet, not even taking his crutch, and ran frantically toward the cemetery gate.