Chapter 257 A Reveal He Can't Survive
Liam hurried up from behind, circled around to face Alexander, and grabbed his arm, frantically checking him for injuries.
"Sir, you're in no condition to be moving around." His voice cracked with anxiety.
"Please, get back into bed. I'll fetch the doctor right away."
They were all still alive.
Alexander's eyes flooded with tears, as if he'd finally clawed his way out of some bottomless pit and was instantly overwhelmed.
"I knew you weren't dead. I knew it."
Not far away, Mark stood rooted to the spot, watching Alexander kneeling on the ground, crying and laughing at the same time, completely unraveling.
He called out for Caroline, then Kenna, then Liam, and kept asking over and over where Felix had gone.
Mark went rigid.
He tried to walk over and help Alexander up, but the moment he took a step, he saw Alexander lift his head, looking toward something invisible, his face streaming with tears.
Mark's feet might as well have been nailed to the floor.
Alexander was hallucinating.
And there was nothing he could do. He didn't dare get any closer. All he could do was stand there and watch Alexander smile at empty air.
"Don't be angry," Alexander said softly, as if someone really were standing in front of him. "I'm fine, aren't I? Just some scrapes and bruises. Nothing serious."
He raised his hand, palm open, fingers slightly curved, as if cradling someone's hand in his.
"It really doesn't hurt," he murmured. "Feel it. My hand is fine."
His hand hung suspended in midair, waiting, as if expecting some touch to land on his palm.
After a few seconds, he slowly closed his fingers around that emptiness, treating the air as if it had weight, then lowered his head and gently pressed his lips to the back of his own hand, as if kissing a lover's fingertips.
"I understand. I won't leave you and the baby behind again. I promise."
After speaking, he brought both hands to his chest in a cradling gesture, gently patting that invisible weight.
"Sleep now," he hummed softly.
"Hush, little baby, don't you cry, the stars are watching from the sky..."
Mark's throat tightened and his eyes burned. He blinked hard against the tears threatening to spill.
After what felt like an eternity, Alexander suddenly stopped singing and turned his head, as if listening to someone speak.
He listened intently, then gave an apologetic smile.
"Okay, I'll go back and lie down. I won't make you worry."
He murmured something to the emptiness in his arms, then pushed his arms forward slightly, as if handing the baby to someone, and reached out to gently stroke the air.
Then, bracing himself against the ground, he struggled to his feet, shuffled back to the hospital bed, lifted the covers, lay down, and closed his eyes.
The entire room fell silent.
Mark waited a long time before working up the courage to approach.
"Sir?" he called out quietly.
Alexander didn't respond.
"Sir?" he tried again.
Only steady breathing answered him.
Mark finally released the breath he'd been holding and took out his phone with trembling hands, dialing David's number.
David arrived within the hour.
He stood by the bed studying Alexander for a long moment, then sighed, turned and walked out of the room, gesturing for Mark to follow him down the hallway.
"Tell me," David leaned against the wall, removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"What exactly happened?"
Mark recounted everything that had happened since the earthquake.
"He said Mrs. Hamilton made him soup and told him to drink it," Mark's voice barely made it past his lips.
"He said he was holding the baby and singing to it. He..."
Mark stopped, swallowing hard.
"He smiled so happily. I haven't... I haven't seen him smile like that in so long."
David was silent for a long moment. He replaced his glasses and let out another heavy sigh.
"Actually..." he paused, choosing his words carefully, "Mr. Hamilton broke a long time ago."
Mark's head jerked up.
"From the day he started wearing Mrs. Hamilton's dresses, from the day he forced himself to live as someone else, he stopped being himself," David said.
"Before, his delusion at least had structure. He wore her clothes, slept in her room, adopted her routines. That was imitation, performance—a way of forcing himself to become her. It was both self-punishment and escape."
David paused, his gaze drifting to the closed hospital room door at the end of the hallway.
"But now it's different. He's seeing people who don't exist, which means his mind can no longer distinguish between reality and hallucination. His condition..."
David weighed his words.
"Is far worse than before."
Mark's lips trembled. "Then... can Mr. Hamilton still be helped?"
David looked at him and spoke his name deliberately.
"Mark."
David's expression grew grave.
"If we want to help him, he has to face one thing: Caroline is dead."
Mark felt the words like a physical blow.
"He has to be lucid, rational, and accept this fact without any escape," David said, each word deliberate.
"Accept that she's not coming back. Accept that the baby is gone forever. Accept that the rest of his life will unfold in a world without her."
"Do you think... he can survive that?"
Mark was silent for a long time.
He wanted to say no, but the word was too heavy. Too final to speak aloud.
"In his current state..." David shook his head.
"At least he's still alive. He can still breathe, eat, sleep. Even though he's living in another world, in that world, he's at peace. When his emotions are stable, he can even handle company business."
David turned to look at Mark.
"Letting him stay immersed in these hallucinations is what's keeping him alive."
Because if they forced him to face reality, there would be only one outcome.
Alexander would follow Caroline without hesitation, clear-headed and determined.
"Do you know why Mrs. Hamilton chose to end her life?" David asked suddenly.
Mark nodded with difficulty. "Because she lost every reason she had to keep living."
"Exactly," David said.
"What kept her going were two things: her promise to Edith, and the people around her who still cared. But when she discovered Edith's death was a lie, the guilt she'd been carrying instantly collapsed—yet the people who truly cared about her had died because of her, and she was crushed under unbearable weight all over again. In the end, she couldn't take it anymore."
David looked toward that door, his eyes heavy with resignation.
"Similarly, what keeps Mr. Hamilton alive are those beliefs in his hallucinations. If we strip away even those false supports, he won't survive it."