Chapter 159 Center of Turmoil
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“Good night, Mom and Dad. Love you!” Eloise blew kisses through the video call before heading to bed, clutching her teddy
bear.
Alistair ended the call and stretched. “Honey, to save time, how about we shower together?”
He always laid his cards on the table. With a wife as brilliant as Caroline, trying to be sneaky would only end in embarrassment –she saw through everything.
If she wasn’t interested, he’d never push it. The only reason he succeeded as often as he did was because Caroline indulged him.
Caroline opened her arms. Alistair scooped her up and carried her to the bathroom.
The tub was already filled, and he’d scattered rose petals across the water. Steam rose lazily, carrying the delicate scent of flowers through the air.
Caroline wrapped her arms around his neck, her eyes heavy–lidded. “I’m sleepy.”
He kissed her gently. “We’ll make it an early night.”
They’d been up late yesterday, and Caroline had worked all day before dealing with Giselle this evening. Of course, she was
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exhausted.
After bathing her, Alistair wrapped her in a towel and carried her to bed. She rolled over and curled up in his lap, eyes closed, luxuriating in his careful attention.
He took his time drying her hair.
Even after he finished, she didn’t move.
Looking down at her peaceful face, her breathing deep and even, Alistair smiled. She really was worn out.
On quiet nights like this, with the scent of roses drifting through the cozy room and his wife beside him, he knew he’d never tire
of these moments.
He carefully lifted Caroline and settled her head on the pillow, tucking her in. As he reached to turn off the lamp, she kicked off the covers, revealing her feet. Then she rolled over, wrapped her arms around his waist, and continued sleeping with her face pressed against his shoulder.
Alistair closed his eyes, but Paige’s fierce glare haunted him. He knew someone was trying to destroy what they had. He wouldn’t let them.
In the darkness, his expression shifted from determined to cold, his resolve sharpening.
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People said one had to suffer before finding happiness. He’d tasted more than his share of suffering. He’d earned this happiness.
Anyone who tried to take it from him would pay.
His premonition proved right.
Days later, while driving to pick up Eloise from school, the radio kept repeating news of a traffic accident.
“Two vehicles collided on the highway. Both passengers in one vehicle were critically injured and rushed to emergency care, Witnesses identify the victims as local entrepreneur Mr. Whitfield and his wife. Mr. Whitfield’s condition is life–threatening…
Local entrepreneurs named Whitfield… Alistair’s expression darkened. It had to be Nathaniel and Cordelia.
The incident had happened too recently for conclusions, temporarily classified as an accident.
Whether accident or murder, the Whitfields‘ fate shouldn’t
concern him.
Yet Alistair couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more complicated than it appeared.
To outsiders, he was the one who hated the Whitfields most and
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wanted them destroyed.
His history with Rebecca wasn’t public knowledge. The Whitfields, knowing they were in the wrong, had naturally kept it quiet.
But some people could always uncover buried secrets.
If someone wanted to exploit the bad blood between him and the Whitfields, he’d find himself at the center of a storm.
It felt like invisible hands were pulling strings, preparing to drag
him under.
More details emerged about Nathaniel and Cordelia’s accident.
The other driver allegedly had a history of mental illness.
Both Nathaniel and his wife remained critical. If they died, it would seem like nothing more than terrible luck.
*****
At the hospital, doctors and nurses moved with efficiency.
They’d seen too much death to be affected by the grieving families in the corridors–the tears, the anxiety, the shocked- faces. Behind their masks, their expressions remained neutral as they worked.
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Rebecca sat frozen, staring at the closed operating room doors. Only 24, she looked like she’d aged decades. Everything about her her posture, her expression–radiated bone–deep exhaustion.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor, growing closer.
“Rebecca! How are they?” Richard skidded to a stop, doubled over, and gasped for breath.
She gave him a blank look before turning back to the doors.
She desperately needed someone strong to lean on. But not
Richard. Never him.
Even if she were dying, she wanted nothing to do with Richard.
Once, she’d been obsessed with him.
Now her hatred ran so deep it would follow her to the grave. A few words of concern, a show of support–none of it could erase what he’d done.
Richard’s jaw tightened at her silence.
But this wasn’t the time to argue. He sat beside her quietly.
His mother had promised to “deal with” Nathaniel and Cordelia. Richard knew she’d follow through, but he hadn’t expected this.
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Honestly, he was rattled and a bit annoyed. This was serious- there would be consequences if anyone found out.
But what was done was done. Part of him hoped Rebecca’s parents wouldn’t make it.
Then he’d be all Rebecca had left.
With her parents in surgery, fighting for their lives, all his efforts might be for nothing.
“Rebecca, are you hungry?” he asked. “I could get you
something to eat. Your parents will pull through. And you have me.”
However, she didn’t even look at him. After that first glance, she gave him nothing but silence.
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