Chapter 243 You Did It All For a Woman
"You bastard! How dare you talk back?!" Armando's face flushed crimson, veins bulging at his temples.
"That Neville girl has completely bewitched you. You've forgotten your own name and whose blood runs in your veins!"
He shot to his feet, jabbing his finger at Alexander.
"Get upstairs. Now."
"No!" Alexander held his ground, meeting Armando's glare without flinching.
"Why should I?"
"Good. Perfect." Armando's laugh was cold and sharp. "Someone get in here!"
Two bodyguards materialized at Alexander's sides.
"Take him to the study." Armando's voice shook with fury. "Today, I'm going to remind him what it means to be a Hamilton, and what responsibilities that name carries."
"I didn't do anything wrong! Why should I be punished?!" Alexander's voice rose. "Standing up for a classmate, calling out discrimination—that goes against Hamilton principles?"
"Shut your mouth! Get him in there!" Armando roared.
The bodyguards seized Alexander's arms.
"Let go of me!" Alexander thrashed against their grip.
But a sixteen-year-old boy was no match for trained security. Within seconds, they had him subdued, dragging him into the study and forcing him down onto the punishment bench. Leather straps bit into his wrists and ankles.
Armando lifted the cane from its place on the wall.
"Alexander. Look at me."
Alexander clenched his jaw and turned his head away.
The cane whistled through the air.
It cracked across Alexander's back, and white-hot pain exploded through him.
In the years to come, Alexander would know far worse pain than this.
Bullet wounds. Knife slashes. Shrapnel tearing through flesh.
Kneeling before Caroline's photograph while bodyguards used barbed whips on his back. Carving wounds into his own skin at her grave. Shattering his leg in the maze garden.
Each of those would hurt a hundred times more than Armando's cane.
But here, now, in this dream, his sixteen-year-old body gave its most honest response.
A strangled groan tore from his throat. Cold sweat broke across his forehead.
"Tell me. Who were you defending at school today? What were you defending?"
Alexander bit down hard on his lower lip, forcing words through gritted teeth. "Justice. Because... Caroline didn't deserve to be insulted like that."
"Lies! You did it for a woman!" Armando brought the cane down again.
The new wound crossed the first, and where they intersected, blood seeped through Alexander's shirt.
"Have you lost your mind, Alexander? For a woman, you defied your teacher to his face and threw our family's reputation to the wolves! Do you care about this family at all? What about your responsibilities?"
"I haven't lost my mind!" Alexander's voice cracked with rage.
"She was being bullied! Roy was completely out of line! Just because she's a girl, her dreams should be crushed and her life mapped out for her? Hamilton men are supposed to stand by and watch injustice happen because someone has status?"
"You insolent—! You still dare argue!"
Armando struck again and again. Soon Alexander's shirt was soaked through with blood, the fabric clinging to the lattice of wounds across his back.
"What is your purpose, Alexander? Tell me! As the eldest son of the Hamilton family, what is your duty?"
Alexander's vision swam, darkness creeping in at the edges. But the fire of rebellion in his chest burned away everything else.
"What... bullshit purpose," he spat through clenched teeth.
"You forced it on me! I don't want to compete with Linus! I don't want any part of those filthy family power plays! I'm sick of those parties full of fake smiles, and I hate all the backstabbing and scheming."
Each shout earned him a heavier blow.
But he seemed beyond pain now.
Only one thought filled his mind—he didn't want any of it, didn't want that hollow glory. He only wanted Caroline.
"I just want... I just want Caroline!"
"I just want to be with her! Like normal people! Not marrying some woman I don't love for profit and power, not living a life that's been scripted for me, full of schemes and betrayal!"
Armando's final blow crossed every wound on his back.
Alexander gasped. His vision went black.
When consciousness returned, he was already in his room.
Alexander jerked awake and tried to sit up.
The movement tore at his wounds. He nearly collapsed back onto the bed.
He braced himself on his arms and, inch by agonizing inch, managed to slide off the mattress and stumble toward the door.
The handle wouldn't turn. Locked.
Alexander pounded on the wood. "Open up! Let me out! Can you hear me? Open this door!"
A bodyguard's voice filtered through. "Mr. Hamilton's orders. You're not to leave this room until your injuries heal. He also hopes you'll use this time to reflect on what you should really be doing."
"To hell with reflecting!" Alexander slammed his foot against the door.
It didn't budge. The impact sent him stumbling backward.
The jolt to his wounds sent fresh agony lancing through him, and his legs gave out. He crumpled to the floor.
The bodyguard outside didn't move. Didn't even check on him.
Armando had clearly given orders: as long as Alexander was breathing, that door stayed locked.
Alexander didn't have the strength to stand. He could only drag himself across the floor, crawling toward the bed.
Then a voice drifted through the window—soft, strained.
"Alexander... Alexander..."
Alexander froze. His head snapped up.
There was Caroline, fingers gripping the windowsill, standing on tiptoe, straining to peer through the gap where the window wasn't quite closed.
"Caroline?!" His heart slammed against his ribs. He kept his voice low. "How did you get here? Be careful! Don't fall! Keep your voice down!"
He tried to stand, to go to her, but the moment he put weight on his legs, the pain ripped through him and he collapsed again with a choked groan.
"Don't move!" Caroline's eyes widened in alarm.
"I want to come in and see you!"
She tightened her grip on the sill, trying to pull herself up.
"Don't! Don't come in!"
Panic flooded Alexander. Ignoring the pain, he waved frantically at her.
"If they catch you, you're done for! Go back! Please!"
But he couldn't even stand. He could only drag himself awkwardly toward the window.
"Stop moving! Please, just stop!"