Chapter 96 It Tastes Just Like She Made It
A vein throbbed at Alexander's temple as he stared down at Caroline, frozen on her knees amid the wreckage. His words came out through clenched teeth.
"Listen to me, Caroline. Don't ever cook for me again. I won't touch a single bite. Do you understand?!"
The moment the words left his mouth, he spun on his heel and stormed toward the stairs, his footsteps heavy and sharp.
A dull boom echoed through the house as Alexander slammed his bedroom door.
He leaned back against the cold wood, chest heaving, hands clawing through his hair.
Damn it. He had actually played along with her delusion.
But seconds later, his movements froze.
In those few seconds of lost control, he'd realized something.
When he'd shouted "Stop!"—the emotion that had nearly overwhelmed him wasn't disgust for Caroline the murderer.
It was fear. Fear that she'd actually pick up those shards. Fear that her pale, delicate fingers would be sliced open by the jagged porcelain. Fear of seeing more blood spill from her body.
The realization hit him like ice water flooding his veins.
"No!"
Alexander roared and slapped himself hard across the face.
How could he feel anything for Caroline—Edith's killer—beyond hatred?!
Hatred was all he should feel. Anything else, even a fleeting moment of concern buried in his subconscious, was a complete betrayal of Edith. A desecration of the blood debt between them.
He would not allow himself to feel anything else for her. Nothing.
With a sharp crack, Alexander ripped a painting off the wall and hurled it to the floor.
Downstairs, Caroline knelt on the hardwood, trembling fingers carefully gathering the sharp porcelain fragments.
Above her, the crashes grew louder and more violent. Each one made her thin shoulders flinch.
Kenna finally couldn't stand it anymore. She rushed forward and covered Caroline's ears from behind.
"Ma'am, don't listen…"
But Caroline gently pulled away, shaking her head.
Silent tears streamed down her face as she wiped them away with the back of her hand, still picking up the broken pieces.
"It's punishment… I wronged him. I deserve this."
Kenna opened her mouth, wanting to tell her it wasn't like that.
But looking at Caroline's profile, so full of penitent devotion, all the words stuck in her throat.
She could only close her mouth, kneel down beside her, and take the dangerous shards from Caroline's hands, helping her clean up the mess in silence.
The storm upstairs raged for a long time before finally subsiding.
Exhausted from his rampage, Alexander collapsed onto the cold bed.
Fatigue washed over him, drowning out the frantic energy that had been firing through every nerve.
His eyelids grew heavy, too heavy to lift. His consciousness drifted in and out until finally he sank into chaotic darkness.
He didn't know how much time had passed when the door cracked open with barely a sound.
Alexander's eyes snapped open instantly, his sharp gaze locking onto the doorway.
"Who's there?"
The figure in the doorway trembled slightly. It was Kenna.
She carried a tray, stepping carefully into the room.
"It's just me, sir. You haven't eaten anything. I made some soup. Please, just have a little."
Alexander pushed himself upright, his piercing stare fixed on the tray in Kenna's hands. "Did she make it?"
Kenna shook her head quickly. "I made it, Mr. Hamilton. Mrs. Hamilton has been downstairs cleaning. She hasn't been in the kitchen."
The tension in Alexander's spine eased fractionally.
He leaned back against the headboard and waved his hand, gesturing for her to set it down.
The tray settled gently on the nightstand. A bowl of clear soup sent up delicate wisps of steam, a faint sweet fragrance drifting into his nostrils.
He really hadn't eaten in a long time. These past few days away from the house, he hadn't had a proper meal.
The hollow ache in his stomach finally made him give in.
He picked up the bowl and brought a spoonful to his lips.
The warm liquid slid down his throat. But the next second, an achingly familiar flavor burst across his tongue.
This taste.
Alexander's hand went rigid.
Years ago, Caroline had done this too. Made him three meals a day.
Back then he'd eaten what she cooked—not for nourishment or enjoyment, but to torment and humiliate her.
He'd always found some excuse. Too salty, too bland, too hot, too cold. Then he'd throw the plate and its contents at her without hesitation, watching her clean, neat dress become instantly filthy.
And Caroline back then would do exactly what she'd done today—stand there covered in mess, silently kneel down to clean it up, then return wordlessly to the kitchen to prepare a fresh meal and bring it out again to face his next wave of fury.
Over and over. Endlessly submissive. Just like the woman kneeling downstairs today. And yet somehow… different.
Back then, her eyes had been hollow. Her silence had been deathly. Like an exquisite doll with no soul inside.
Now her eyes held tears, held fear, but also held a stubborn light.
Now she seemed more like an actual living person.
No—none of that mattered!
What mattered was how the hell had he recognized Caroline's cooking from the first taste?!
He'd never actually paid attention to anything she'd made before.
Those meals had been nothing but tools to degrade her. Tasteless. And on the rare occasions he'd actually swallowed any of it, he'd immediately gone to the bathroom and vomited it back up.
With a sharp clink, Alexander slammed the spoon back into the bowl.
He jerked his head up, bloodshot eyes locking on Kenna, who seemed to realize what had happened and was already trying to back toward the door.
"Kenna." Alexander's voice was ice.
Kenna's body went rigid. Her footsteps stopped.
Alexander spoke again, his tone glacial. "I kept you on here out of respect for your age, and because you were at the estate when I was growing up. Is this how you repay my trust? By lying for her?"
Kenna's whole body trembled. Her head dropped lower, hands twisting her apron as she stammered an apology. "Sir, I'm so sorry… I wasn't thinking clearly. Mrs. Hamilton just wanted to make you something to eat. She begged me for so long… I…"
Alexander stared at her pale face, silent for a long moment. Then suddenly he laughed.
At the top of the stairs, Caroline had been watching anxiously, hopefully.
The sharp crash of breaking porcelain rang out, followed by Alexander's furious roar: "Get out!"
Kenna descended the stairs with heavy footsteps.