Chapter 255 Caroline, You Came Back to Life
Alexander suddenly felt something explode deep in his mind.
The impact was like a buried consciousness fighting its way to the surface, clawing desperately toward the light.
But it vanished before he could grasp it—too quick to catch, leaving nothing but the ghost of its presence.
He couldn't tell if it was a fractured memory, a fever dream, or just another hallucination born from weeks of mental collapse.
"Mark." Alexander pressed his hand to his temple, which felt ready to crack open.
"I need you to find out if Alan's father offered a billion-dollar reward years ago to find his son a wife."
Mark went still.
"A billion dollars?" He repeated the number slowly, as if he'd misheard.
"That's right. A billion." Alexander's voice was steady despite the pain. "And check if Isabella was one of the people trying to make a connection with the Simmons family back then."
Mark had no idea where this was going, but he nodded anyway.
"I'll look into it right away."
He turned to leave, but Alexander stopped him.
"Wait."
Mark glanced back.
"Pull the chat history between Edith and Linus too. If she kept this phone intact, there's got to be something important on it."
He held out the phone, his hand steady now.
"Whatever it takes, get everything off that device. And if you find anything else about Caroline..." His voice faltered. "That would be even better."
Mark took the phone and slipped it carefully into his jacket's inner pocket. He gave Alexander a brief nod, then left.
Once Mark was gone, Alexander sank back onto the bare mattress.
Questions swirled through his mind like a storm with no center.
Why didn't the name Simmons mean anything to him in real life?
In his memory, Caroline's marriage had never come up. Isabella had never mentioned any oil tycoon's son.
But Edith had clearly said that name in the video.
Was the dream bleeding into his memory? Or was his memory corrupting the dream? Or was there something else—something deeper—that he couldn't see?
His first instinct had been to go straight to Edith and force the truth out of her.
But the thought died as soon as it formed.
Edith hadn't truly broken.
He knew this woman too well.
She was stubborn to the bone, her lips sealed tighter than a vault.
Even if he held a knife to her throat, she wouldn't give him a damn thing.
He'd have to wait for Mark.
Alexander lay flat, eyes open, staring at the crystal chandelier overhead.
But as he stared, it began to sway.
The ceiling pressed down, closer and closer, as if the room itself were collapsing.
A wave of suffocation crashed over him.
Alexander clutched his head and curled into himself.
"Caroline..." he whispered.
"Caroline... Caroline..."
The chandelier plummeted toward him.
He cried out and squeezed his eyes shut.
But there was no impact. No pain.
When he opened his eyes, the chandelier hung perfectly still, as if nothing had happened.
He gasped for air, about to sit up—
Then he heard it.
A baby crying.
Soft. Fragile. Close.
Alexander went rigid.
He turned his head slowly.
At the edge of the mattress lay a tiny bundle wrapped in pale pink cloth.
Inside was a newborn, face wrinkled and red, eyes shut tight, mouth open in a weak, unsteady wail.
Alexander stared at her for a long moment before reaching out to pick her up.
It was his daughter.
But—how could she be here? Wasn't she... gone?
He held the child, frozen, unable to decide if he should feel shock or joy.
His mind went blank. He couldn't remember anything.
"Why are you sitting on the floor with the baby again? Come have your soup."
A familiar voice.
Alexander spun around.
Caroline stood by the dining table, setting down a bowl of dessert soup.
"What are you staring at?" She looked up and met his eyes, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
"Come on. It won't taste good cold."
She turned and walked back into the kitchen.
Alexander stared after her, nearly forgetting the baby in his arms as he stumbled to his feet and followed.
Caroline stood at the stove, spatula in hand, flipping a steak in the pan.
Alexander's throat tightened. His eyes burned.
He crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her from behind.
"You're back... you didn't die... I just realized... you came back..."
Caroline stiffened slightly, then glanced over her shoulder at him.
"What are you talking about? Are you still half asleep? When did I die? Don't say things like that."
Alexander opened his mouth, but no words came.
Caroline gave him a mock glare for a few seconds, then laughed softly.
"I'm teasing you. Why so serious?" She raised her hand to ruffle his hair.
"Alright, stop hovering. Go wait outside."
Alexander lowered his head, letting her fingers brush through his messy hair.
"Go on. You don't need to worry about this."
"Let me do it." His voice was rough, his hands trembling as he took the spatula from her. "I'll do it. You don't have to lift a finger anymore."
He turned back to the stove and started flipping the steak—clumsily, frantically.
Juices splattered everywhere, but he didn't notice. He kept flipping, as if stopping would mean losing her all over again.
Caroline stood beside him, watching quietly, a soft smile on her lips.
"You really can't take care of yourself, can you?" Her voice was light, almost a sigh. "If I'm not here one day, how will you manage?"
Alexander's hands stopped.
"That won't happen." He turned to her, urgent. "You won't leave. You won't—"
Caroline stood there, her expression suddenly blank. She stared at him and asked slowly, "Where's the baby?"
Alexander's entire body went cold.
He'd left her on the floor.
He dropped the spatula and bolted out of the kitchen.
When he shoved the door open, he froze.
His home was gone.
Before him stretched nothing but a desolate, ruined wasteland.