Chapter 12
Lily turned her gaze away from his icy stare, shifting her eyes to another corner of the room. "Let me go," she demanded, her voice firm despite the knot of tension in her throat.
Alexander didn’t budge, his grip still firm on her arm. His expression softened from anger to a chilling blankness, his dark eyes boring into hers, devoid of any discernible emotion. On any other day, the nearness of his presence might have sent a thrill through her, but today she was seething.
"I said, let me go," Lily repeated, her tone like ice.
For a brief moment, his grip tightened, as if he was considering defying her. But then, with a slow exhale, he released her. She didn’t wait for another word, walking past him with an air of defiance, leaving the study without so much as a backward glance. She knew confronting him directly had been a mistake—especially without first consulting Clara, who undoubtedly had been following his orders when she removed Lily’s belongings.
As she made her way to the kitchen area, Lily intercepted Clara emerging from another room.
"Do you need anything, ma'am? Shall we prepare dinner for you?" Clara asked, her voice respectful but tinged with unease.
"No, Clara," Lily replied, her voice clipped. "I came to ask you something."
"Of course, ma'am. What is it?" Clara responded, her brow furrowing slightly.
"Where did you place my belongings that were taken from the closet?" Lily’s words were calm, but an undercurrent of urgency betrayed her.
"Oh, Mr. Kane instructed us to replace them with new items and… dispose of the old ones in the bin," Clara answered hesitantly, clearly uncomfortable with the task she had been assigned.
"The bin?" Lily echoed, disbelief washing over her. Alexander had ordered her possessions—her memories—thrown away like trash. Was this his punishment for daring to challenge him this morning?
"Yes, ma'am," Clara confirmed, her voice apologetic.
"Show me where it is," Lily demanded, her urgency now palpable. "There's something very important among those items that I need."
"Ma'am, it's late," Clara suggested gently, trying to reason with her. "We can search for it tomorrow morning—"
"No, Clara," Lily cut her off, her voice steely. "I need to find it now. Those items are irreplaceable to me."
Clara hesitated, clearly torn between following Alexander's orders and responding to Lily’s desperation. "But, ma'am…"
Lily didn’t wait for her to finish. She spun on her heel and hurried out, her determination carrying her forward. Clara followed quickly, concern etched on her face.
"Ma'am, please let me assist you," Clara urged as they moved through the expansive compound. "It's cold, and you're still wet from your bath. You could fall ill—"
Lily ignored Clara’s warnings, her mind focused only on retrieving her precious belongings. Alexander’s heartless act of discarding her things without regard for her feelings filled her with a mix of anger and sorrow. Tears pricked her eyes as she neared the bin she had spotted from the master bedroom window.
Meanwhile, Clara hesitated at the mansion’s entrance before turning back to inform Alexander of the situation.
Lily sifted through the waste bin, her hands trembling as she searched desperately for the scarves. Each discarded item she touched felt like a personal betrayal. Finally, her fingers closed around the soft fabric she sought—three scarves, worn and faded, but infinitely precious. She clutched them to her chest, her breath catching as tears streamed down her cheeks. These scarves were the last tangible connection to her sisters, worn by them on the day they were tragically taken from her. Unable to attend their funeral because of her stepmother's cruel threats, these scarves had become her only solace.
From a distance, Alexander watched from his bedroom window, his expression inscrutable as he observed Lily’s emotional search. His eyes lingered on the scarves she held so tightly, a flicker of curiosity crossing his features—mingled with something he couldn’t quite name.
Back inside the mansion, Lily still held the scarves close, her heart heavy with a flood of memories and emotions. Clara approached her cautiously. "Ma'am, please allow us to clean and return them to you tomorrow morning."
But Lily barely registered the offer, lost in her thoughts. Clara tried again, her voice soft. "Ma'am?"
"I will handle it myself," Lily murmured, her voice distant as she turned and headed upstairs. But instead of going to the master bedroom, she retreated to the small room she had been given when she first arrived.
Locking the door behind her, Lily collapsed onto the bed, still clutching the scarves. The trauma of that dreadful day, the images of her sisters’ deaths, flooded her mind with a force she could no longer hold back. She lay there, silent tears tracing down her cheeks, unable to sleep as the painful memories replayed over and over.
The next morning, Sarah arrived early at the coffee shop, only to find Lily already there, sitting alone in a corner. Her friend’s usually bright demeanor was replaced by a haunted look, her body wrapped tightly in a scarf despite the cold.
"Lily!" Sarah rushed to her side, her voice laced with worry. "What happened? Why are you dressed so lightly in this cold?"
As Sarah touched Lily’s cold skin, she gasped. "Oh my God, you’re freezing. Why did you leave the house like this?"
"I'm fine," Lily murmured, though the tremble in her voice betrayed her.
"No, you’re not," Sarah insisted, her concern deepening. "Tell me what’s wrong. Did he hurt you?"
"It’s the memories," Lily whispered, tears welling in her eyes again. "They keep coming back."
Sarah’s eyes fell on the scarves Lily clutched so desperately. She knew what they meant—how they were tied to the painful past Lily tried so hard to bury. "What triggered these memories, Lily? Please, tell me what happened."
Lily shook her head, unwilling or unable to explain. "Let’s get ready for the day. Customers will be arriving soon."
But as she tried to stand, the world spun around her, and she collapsed, unconscious before Sarah could catch her.
"Lily!" Sarah cried, panic surging through her as she tried to revive her friend. Lily’s skin was cold, her pulse weak. She needed help, and fast.
Running outside, Sarah scanned the area for help when her instincts kicked in, spotting a few suspicious figures lingering near the coffee shop. With her sharp eye, a remnant of her training as a former spy, she recognized them at once.
Approaching one of the spies disguised as an elderly man reading a newspaper, Sarah spoke with urgency. "Tell your boss that Miss Evans has collapsed. She needs to be taken to the hospital. She’s freezing and running a fever. Hurry!"
The spy, momentarily startled by Sarah’s perceptiveness, quickly relayed the message to Alexander.
Back inside, Sarah did what she could to keep Lily warm and conscious. Within half an hour, Alexander arrived, his expression a mix of worry and determination. He didn’t hesitate as he strode towards Sarah, who was holding Lily.
He lifted Lily from Sarah’s arms, cradling her close as he hurried out of the coffee shop.
Sarah followed them outside, shocked to see the usually aloof Alexander Kane so personally involved in Lily’s care. The sight of him carrying Lily, protectively, almost tenderly, sent a shiver down her spine.
It was the first time Sarah had encountered the formidable Alexander Kane in person, and what she saw left her more intrigued—and concerned—than ever.
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