Chapter 46 Visions in a Dream
She stepped into the room slowly, closing the door behind her with a faint click.
Her body and mind had reached their breaking point. Each movement felt like dragging herself through heavy water. She staggered toward the small bathroom, turned on the tap, and let cold water run over the burn on her left leg. The sting was sharp, but it numbed the deeper ache. She pressed a damp towel to her face, wiping away the streaks of tears and the smudges left behind.
The mirror cleared gradually, revealing a face ghostly pale, like someone who had just walked out of the wreckage of a war zone. She tried to force a smile at herself, but the muscles refused to cooperate. The simple act felt impossible.
She let the thought go. Her life had never offered her anything worth smiling about. Why force herself now?
When she stepped out of the bathroom, someone had already been in the room. A few clean clothes and a plain cotton nightdress lay neatly folded on the bed. Caroline changed with slow, deliberate motions, each gesture weighed down by exhaustion. She pulled back the blanket and slid into bed.
The mattress was firm but dry. The blanket smelled faintly of sun, as if it had been hung outside to warm in daylight. It reminded her, in a subtle way, that she was still alive.
She curled up tightly, arms wrapped around her knees, face buried in the pillow. Her body ached, her mind was drained, and the sheer fatigue left no space for wandering thoughts. Sleep came quickly.
She dreamed.
In the dream, sunlight was warm, pouring in golden sheets through a thick canopy of wisteria. It spilled across the Neville family's back lawn, painting the grass in shifting shades of gold. She saw herself as a young girl, dressed in a white cotton dress, chasing and laughing with Edith, who wore a pale yellow sundress.
Edith's skirt flared as she ran, her laughter ringing clear. But in the dream, Caroline's gaze kept drifting toward the garden next door - the Hamilton family's property.
Under the shade of a large plane tree, a teenage Alexander sat in a white wicker chair, a book open in his hands. Sunlight touched his dark hair and cut along the sharp lines of his profile, turning him into something almost sculpted. He read with quiet focus, occasionally frowning slightly, as if the world in the pages mattered more than the one around him.
But Caroline knew - whenever Edith ran past a certain spot or her laughter carried across the garden, Alexander's eyes would lift, following the yellow blur for just a moment. Then he would lower his gaze again, a faint curve ghosting across his lips.
It was a softness he reserved for Edith. Caroline had never been given that look.
When they grew tired, the sisters lay side by side on the grass, staring up at the blue sky, trading dreams about the future.
"Caroline, what kind of man do you want to marry?" Edith turned her head, eyes bright with curiosity.
In the dream, Caroline's heart gave a sudden, guilty jump. Her cheeks warmed. Her gaze slid toward the garden next door. She wanted to say - someone like Alexander. Handsome, strong, cold on the surface but hiding a tenderness no one else could see.
But what came out was softer, safer. "Someone who treats me well... that's enough."
A young girl's dreams were always sweet and bitter at once. He had never looked at her that way.
"I..." Edith rested her chin in her hand, a blush coloring her face. "I want to marry someone like a hero. Someone who can protect me, and protect the people I want to protect. He doesn't have to say much, but his heart should be full of love..."
Her eyes drifted toward the same garden.
The sisters shared a look, each hiding her own secret, and laughed before tumbling into another round of play.
That was when the door of the villa next door opened.
A tall man with blond hair and blue eyes stepped out, walking straight toward Alexander. It was his uncle, Linus Hamilton. Only six or seven years older than Alexander, Linus was one of the few in the family who could truly challenge him.
The two had always been at odds - conflicting visions, competing claims to inheritance.
Linus said something to Alexander. Alexander looked up briefly, not lowering his book, his reply short and cool. The tension between them sharpened.
Edith rose from the grass, running to the low wall that separated the gardens. She waved, her voice bright. "Alex! Mr. Linus Hamilton! Good afternoon!"
Like sunlight breaking through clouds, the icy expression on Alexander's face melted instantly. He closed his book, stood, and walked to the wrought iron fence. His smile was rare, and softer than Caroline had ever seen. "Edith, good afternoon."
Behind him, Linus - usually guarded - smiled warmly in return.
The dream shifted, speeding forward.
Years passed. Alexander and Linus's quiet rivalry became open war. The family's calm surface rippled with undercurrents.
One afternoon, Caroline stood hidden behind the curtains of her second-floor window, watching next door. Alexander and Linus were in the study, their voices sharp, words cutting through the open window like blades. The argument was fierce.
Finally, Linus stormed out, his expression dark, his men following him in tense silence. The door slammed.
Moments later, the study door burst open again. Alexander emerged, eyes blazing, a storm barely contained. In his hand was a gun.
It was the first time Caroline had seen him so close to losing control - closer even than the day he carried Edith's body. His gaze locked on Linus's retreating back, the tendons in his hand standing out as he raised the weapon slowly.
One pull of the trigger, and it would be over.
But then Edith's voice rang out behind him.
"Alexander! Don't!"
She appeared from nowhere, throwing her arms around him from behind. Her face pressed against his rigid back, her words urgent, cracking with fear. She whispered something in his ear, fast, desperate.
The fury in him faltered, just enough. His hand trembled, then lowered the gun.
He did not look back, but the sharp edges of him softened under her hold. He closed his eyes, drew in a long breath, and when he opened them again, the urge to kill was gone.
Caroline's eyes opened slowly.
The room was dim, the only light the faint grey of dawn seeping in from the edge of the city.
Morning was coming.