Chapter 72 Esme Passes Away
Elizabeth stood up, rubbed her tired eyes, and glanced at Alexander. "I know you've been swamped lately. Aunt Esme's condition has kept you busy, but shouldn't we talk about the contract?"
She swallowed hard, her gaze fixed on Alexander.
After a long day at work, she was exhausted. That evening, Wesley had dragged her into a private room. In a panic, she had stabbed him with a broken bottle.
In the heat of the moment, she hadn't thought twice, but now that she had calmed down, fear crept in. Wesley was still in the hospital, and though Owen had managed to keep things quiet, the medical bills were piling up. Elizabeth didn't have the money to cover them.
Her only hope was the money from her contract with Alexander.
Alexander's eyes were icy as he looked at her.
He was in a foul mood today.
Esme had been in a coma for three days, burning up with a fever. The chances of her waking up were slim. Over these days, her organs had taken a hit.
Seeing Esme's health deteriorate, Alexander felt immense pain in his heart. He regretted letting Marcus bring the Windsor family to acknowledge Esme. Maybe then, things wouldn't have reached this point.
Alexander hadn't slept in three nights.
At his lowest point, he had stepped out of Esme's ward and saw Elizabeth being half-dragged, half-carried into a car by a man old enough to be her grandfather. He had started to think better of her.
Because of that cigarette filter.
That tiny gesture had touched him, if only for a moment.
But every time he began to think better of her, reality slapped him in the face. Elizabeth was complicated.
And deceptive.
Yet, she was the one Esme worried about.
Even in her coma, Esme murmured Elizabeth's name, calling for her.
And Elizabeth?
While Esme was calling for her, she was cozying up to an old man.
She really knew how to pick her moments. She knew he was too busy to deal with her now, so she was bold. Not only was she messing around with other men during their contract, but she also had the nerve to ask about the contract?
"Have you ever thought about my mother?" Alexander asked, his voice steady.
Elizabeth stayed silent.
"Answer me!" His tone remained calm.
Elizabeth replied just as calmly, "What do you want to hear? Even if I tell the truth, you won't believe me, right? So I might as well say what you want to hear. I've never thought about your mother. I was just using her to get close to you. I planned to use the child in my belly to tie you down, but I failed. Since I failed, I can only take part of the money from our contract. Mr. Windsor, when will you pay me the money from our contract?"
She looked at Alexander, her expression unchanged.
His face was calm too, so calm it made her uneasy.
Having spent some time with Alexander, Elizabeth knew him a bit. He was a man of few words, ruthless and decisive, but he always wore a cold expression. He never showed anger.
But she had seen his cruelty and cold-bloodedness more than once.
His bedroom was like a death trap, full of hidden dangers. He never gave his enemies a chance to plead for mercy, always handling things swiftly and silently.
Right now, Elizabeth had no clue what Alexander was thinking. She could only try to stay calm.
His voice was so emotionless, and it was chilling. "The contract says I can only pay you after my mother passes away. She's still alive."
Elizabeth didn't say a word.
In her daze, Alexander had already opened the door and stepped inside. He slammed it shut, leaving her locked out.
As the door closed, the coldness in Alexander's eyes became more apparent.
He had wanted to strangle Elizabeth more than once.
But he held back.
He remembered her caring for Esme, those rare, sweet smiles she had given him.
And her sharp, fluent handwriting.
And her talent in architectural design.
But she was also so complicated and unbearable.
Outside the door, Elizabeth stood there for a long time, then dragged her tired body to the elevator and went downstairs.
She knew she wouldn't get an answer. She was exhausted. She needed rest, and so did the baby inside her. She couldn't stay here any longer.
Elizabeth had just stepped out of the elevator and taken a few steps when she saw Alexander rushing out. At first, she thought he was coming to deal with her, and her heart skipped a beat. But then she realized he didn't even glance her way and headed straight for the parking lot.
Alexander got in his car, started the engine, and sped off like a bat out of hell. The sound of the tires screeching was deafening.
'Something's wrong!' Elizabeth suddenly realized Esme's condition must have worsened. She couldn't worry about her own despair or Wesley in the hospital. She hurried out, hailed a taxi, and told the driver to get to the hospital fast.
Fifteen minutes later, Elizabeth arrived at the hospital and rushed to Esme's ward. All the tubes had been removed from Esme's body. Her face was pale, and she was barely breathing.
"Aunt Esme," Elizabeth cried uncontrollably outside the ward.
Esme's lips moved slowly. Alexander was right next to her. At this moment, the usually cold and ruthless Alexander couldn't help but shed tears. "Mom, do you have anything to say?"
"Elizabeth," Esme said with difficulty.
"Mom, I'm here." Elizabeth rushed to Esme's side, ignoring everything else.
"Elizabeth, take care of Alexander for me," Esme said, her voice barely a whisper.
"Yes, yes, don't worry, Mom. I will take care of Alexander," Elizabeth cried.
"Alexander," Esme called.
"Mom?"
"Don't bury me in the Windsor family cemetery. They don't like me. I'll be isolated and lonely. Bury me in a public cemetery where it's lively." Esme took eight minutes to say this short sentence.
Alexander understood. "Mom, I understand. Don't worry. I'll find you many friends, many people to keep you company so you won't be lonely. I've already moved Auntie, Grandma, and Grandpa's graves here, all buried around you, so you won't be alone."
"You've done so well, Alexander. I'm leaving." With those words, Esme tilted her head and passed away.
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