Chapter 89

Auntie Marry finished packing with practiced efficiency.

"Young master, Mrs. Hamilton and I will leave first. The mistress has been emotionally unstable lately. Seeing Miss Annabelle might trigger another sleepless night."

Margaret Hamilton's voice carried from the doorway. "Auntie Marry, don't overpack. We can buy anything we need."

"Understood, ma'am. Almost done."

Leaning closer to Alexander Hamilton, Auntie Marry lowered her voice. "I spoke out of turn today. But... please reconsider."

She hurried toward the exit with the suitcase. "Ma'am, we're ready."

"Good."

Alexander intercepted them, taking the luggage. "Let me drive you."

Margaret shook her head. "No need. Auntie Marry can call a cab."

He was already striding toward the garage, popping the trunk open.

A cardboard box came into view.

Evelyn Carter's clothes.

Margaret followed and recognized them instantly. "Aren't these Evelyn's? Why are they tossed in a box? And this—"

Dark red stains had congealed into crusted patches, reeking of iron, soaking through a pale yellow sweater.

The other garments fared no better—ruined beyond recognition.

Margaret's lips curled in cold understanding.

Alexander's jaw tightened as he moved the box to the passenger seat before loading his mother's luggage.

He opened the rear door. "Mother, Auntie Marry, get in. I'll take you to the mountain resort. The environment there is peaceful."

"..."

"Mother?"

Margaret met her son's gaze. "Alexander, are you truly divorcing Evelyn to be with Annabelle?"

"I..."

"The truth."

"..."

She sighed. "If you choose to spend your life with her, keep her in line. I'm over sixty. I won't be driven from my own home."

Alexander's face burned. "I'll resolve this quickly and bring you back."

The car glided toward Cloud Terrace Resort.

Thirty minutes later, in the lobby.

Alexander checked them in. "Two adjoining suites."

The receptionist bowed. "Mr. Hamilton, only two rooms remain on the eighth floor."

"Fine."

When the room keys were handed over, Alexander frowned at the numbers—the same suites he'd shared with Annabelle last time.

"Is there a problem, sir?"

"Get me a suite on the second floor, near the restaurant."

"Apologies, sir. That one's booked."

"Contact the guest. Say there's a maintenance issue and offer a room change. If they refuse, compensate triple."

"Right away."

With the new key, he rejoined his mother in the lounge.

"Let me escort you up."

Margaret asked, "Where will you stay tonight? The family estate or your penthouse?"

He paused. "I'll remain here."

"Not going back?"

"...I need time to think."

From her bag, Margaret produced a notebook. "I found this in the box. Read it when you can."

"What is it?"

"A baby journal."

Alexander blinked. "Pardon?"

"A pregnancy diary. Evelyn must have bought it. She'd already filled several pages."