Chapter 97 The Woman He Dreamed Of
She spotted Caroline still standing there, stubborn as ever. A flicker of guilt crossed her face. She hurried forward and caught Caroline's hand.
"Mrs. Hamilton... Mr. Hamilton tried a spoonful and wouldn't eat any more. I'm sorry. It's my fault."
The light in Caroline's eyes dimmed instantly.
Kenna's worry deepened. She rushed to reassure her. "It's alright, Mrs. Hamilton. Maybe he's just in a bad mood right now. He'll eat later."
Caroline kept her gaze lowered, silent.
Kenna thought she would cry. Instead, Caroline drew a deep breath. In the shadow of her sadness, a faint spark flared.
"It's fine. He still remembers the taste of my soup. That means I'm still in his heart... right?"
Kenna's chest ached at the sight of her holding herself together. She couldn't find the words to answer.
Upstairs, Alexander had thrown himself back onto the bed. Pain pounded in his head. A chill seeped through his bones. After the anger came exhaustion... and a hollow emptiness he couldn't name.
The fire he'd unleashed hadn't freed his pale, starved soul. It had only fed a new swarm of troubles.
He slipped into sleep again, almost as if running from himself—falling deeper into a nightmare.
This time, Edith was there.
But the Edith in his dream no longer smiled at him with warmth.
She stood in a haze of light, beautiful as ever, but with a look of pure disdain he had never seen.
"Alexander." Her voice was cold.
She didn't call him Alex, the way she used to.
"I only ever saw you as a friend. How could you feel that way about me?"
"No, Edith, listen to me..." Alexander reached for her, desperate, but she pulled away as if his touch repulsed her.
She stepped back sharply. "I already love someone else. I don't love you, Alexander. I never will. And from now on, don't speak to me in that tone again... or I'll act as if I've never met you."
"No..." He reached for her sleeve, but his fingers closed on nothing.
"If you never loved me, then what was all of it? The kindness? The way you leaned on me? What did it mean?" His voice broke.
Edith didn't answer.
She gave him one last look, all frost and distance, then turned and walked away into the light.
Alexander was left alone in endless wind, the cold cutting into him from every side, swallowing him whole.
Reality pierced the dream, driving a blade straight into his heart.
Yes... Edith had never accepted his proposal. It had all been in his head. He'd even gone around claiming to be her fiancé.
The last time they met, her eyes had held that same unfamiliar cold.
His heart sank, freezing over, sinking into a dark pit.
Even the air above him felt cold.
A groan slipped from him. His thoughts clawed for escape from the nightmare.
His eyelids lifted heavily.
Caroline sat by his bed.
She was leaning forward a little, a few soft strands of hair falling over her cheek, hands busy with something.
She turned the moment she sensed him stir.
Seeing him awake, her eyes filled with urgency and worry.
She reached out instinctively, then hesitated, stopping halfway. Instead, she carefully removed the warm towel from his forehead.
"You're awake?" she asked softly. "Do you feel any better? Still hurting?"
She placed the used towel in the basin beside her, wrung out another cold one, and laid it gently across his burning skin.
"You've got a fever. You need rest. Kenna's making some oatmeal. If you feel up to it later, you should have some."
Alexander didn't answer. His eyes stayed locked on her.
In his haze, her face seemed to blur into Edith's.
Yes... they were twins. Of course they looked alike.
But only now did he realize—he'd never truly looked at Caroline's face.
Every memory of her was blurred. Even the image of her elegance had been shaped by other people's words.
Later, whenever he looked at her, it was through a lens of contempt.
Now, in this fevered state, he saw it clearly—Caroline and Edith shared features, but they were entirely different.
The realization hit him like molten heat cracking the ice around his heart.
Why had she become this?
Was it deliberate? Was she trying to make him think of Edith?
Was she trying to slip into his world... take Edith's place?
Had she shaped herself into this image to mock him?
To remind him that he would never have Edith?
To show him that even if he did, it would only be an illusion?
Or... was she here to steal even his pathetic fantasy, leaving him with nothing to cling to?
In that moment, he understood—her mere existence was a desecration of the only refuge he had left.
Despair ignited into rage.
The thought of revenge roared through him—not for something she had done, but for what she was. A woman wearing the softness of his imagined wife's face, but with the features of his enemy.
A woman who had never been there while Edith lived, but who had stepped into his life after her death... in this cruel, absurd form.
Alexander growled, and in Caroline's startled eyes, he lunged, seizing her wrist and dragging her toward him.
"Ah!"
Her cry broke out as she fell against the bed.
A moment later, his weight pressed down on her. His fevered lips crashed against hers, smothering the sound.
The kiss was forceful, claiming. His tongue invaded her mouth, deep and unyielding, taking her as if she belonged to him.
The metallic tang of blood spread quickly between them—someone's lip had split.
Caroline let out a soft, involuntary sound, and that single note poured fuel on Alexander's fire.