CHAPTER 196: THE WEIGHT OF GUILT

"Scared, Aveline Laurent?" Damien sneered, his voice laced with venom. "Do you need a bodyguard even to arrive at a place?"

Aveline didn’t slow. Neither did the man at her side. She passed right through Damien’s looming presence, her heels clicking against the marble floor like deliberate strikes. Her cold voice floated back to Damien without a flicker of hesitation.

"I don’t want the drama of putting the Ashfords at my mercy," she said smoothly. "My time, my energy, my hands are far too precious to be dirty for Ashfords."

Her calm dismissal sliced sharper than any insult could.

And Alaric’s presence with her was devastating in his silence. It would make everything clearer for the Ashford. She had moved on. She had no intention of forgiving, no intention of saving, no intention of ever being tied to the Ashfords again.

Damien’s jaw clenched so hard, his teeth ached. His only option was to grit against the weight of humiliation, his knuckles were white as he forced himself to meet Alaric’s deadly gaze.

He could only follow them inside, quietly swallowing the bitterness. He was supposed to make her emotional, make her serve Eleanor, and make Alaric jealous.

But none of it seemed possible.

Cassandra Ashford appeared in the hall like a storm. She had come brimming with curses, ready to spit poison at Aveline. Yet the sight of Alaric Lancaster standing beside her former-daughter-in-law turned nemesis made her falter. His unreadable gaze cut her confidence in half.

Still, her rage was too huge to swallow down.

"How dare you come here?" Cassandra’s roar broke through the silence, her hands trembling as her face twisted with hate.

She jabbed a finger toward Aveline, yet her eyes never once met Alaric’s. "Witch! You destroyed everything! From the beginning, I knew you would bring ruin to the Ashfords. I should never have let you through our doors. You curse this family, you curse this house. Why don’t you die? Disappear from this world, only then will I be able to breathe!"

Her shrill voice echoed against the mansion walls in its true form. Ugly, raw, and desperate.

But Aveline remained calm. She didn’t even flinch. She only raised her chin, her eyes cold, silencing Alaric’s shifting weight at her side with the lightest brush of her fingers.

"Only I could save the Ashfords from the hell you are in," Aveline said softly, her tone edged with contempt. "Yet you dare speak such nonsense to me!? Tsk." Her dismissal cut sharper than Cassandra’s screams.

Aveline and Alaric had just reached the stairs when Selene descended, her scowl twisted in malice. "I wish you were dead," Selene hissed, her voice dripping venom, "by the poison that the housekeeper fed you."

Aveline nearly rolled her eyes, her lips curving in faint amusement. "It was your precious brother," she answered, her tongue coated with poison, each word striking clean and sharp at the man behind them.

Selene froze, but the bitterness inside her only churned hotter looking at Alaric with Aveline. "F**king liar," she spat. "You were having an affair, you orchestrated everything, didn’t you?"

Aveline stopped mid-step. Shock flickered through her eyes. She couldn’t believe Damien had managed to twist the truth so thoroughly. Or perhaps his family simply refused to see it.

Nevertheless, Aveline turned, flashing Selene a breathtaking smile. "Selene Ashford, you should rather worry who your husband is sleeping around with." She brushed her finger under her chin in mock thought. "Or maybe... You should worry when he decides to dump you. Because your little video won’t protect you forever." Her voice, smooth and taunting, carried like silk dipped in dangerous venom.

Then she turned gracefully and continued upward with Alaric. Her words drifted over her shoulder, deliberately loud enough to slice through Selene’s defenses.

"Alaric, threatening someone with a private video, surely that could mean years in prison, no?"

Selene paled as the walls of her family’s home. She shook uncontrollably, the truth of her situation hitting her like ice-cold water. She knew her husband was unfaithful. She knew he despised her for forcing him into a loveless marriage.

And now, after the Ashfords’ downfall, she could imagine nothing but her husband ruining her.

Damien was watching from the corner. He cast his sister a disgusted glare. For once, she had been made to choke on her own actions.

But his gaze drifted back to Aveline as she climbed the stairs. Something was different. He realized it now. He had always believed in the mask of the sweet wife. But here, with Alaric, she wore no mask. She was raw, powerful, and fearless. Each word she spoke cut deeper than a blade.

When did it go wrong?

Damien’s mind raced. He searched desperately for the moment. His chest tightened as memory returned.

The day he had gone to Alaric, suspicious of Aveline’s following him to the Obsidian. That had been the beginning. Alaric had been shielding her even then, playing his role with deadly patience.

He should have known the day she slipped from his touch, the day she joined Lancaster Industries, the day she wept crocodile tears yet signed the divorce papers.

It had always been Alaric and Aveline. Together. Against him.

His stomach twisted. He had been a fool.

....

In Eleanor’s bedroom,

Maxwell Ashford exited the room, his gaze hard. He bit his tongue, in Alaric’s presence that demanded silence, yet his eyes burned with hatred as he passed Aveline. He muttered nothing, only shot her a glare as he disappeared down the hallway.

When Aveline and Alaric finally entered Eleanor’s room, Aveline’s steps faltered. The steady beeping of monitors filled the air. Her hand tightened instinctively around Alaric’s arm.

She swallowed hard. Her chest tightened. The sight of Eleanor, frail, skin and bones, connected to wires, dragged Aveline back to nights in sterile hospitals. Other than the grey hair, Eleanor’s figure was painfully familiar. The wrinkles, the hollowness, were buried in Aveline’s gaze.

Her breath quickened. Her chest ached. Panic began to settle in her heart.

"Sunshine..." Alaric’s voice was gentle, shielding her from the sight of Eleanor. He cupped her head softly, looking into her eyes, "We can leave if you aren’t comfortable."

Her nails dug into her palm. The beeping only made her heart race faster against it, yet she nodded with visible effort, forcing her feet forward, though each step was reluctant, heavy.

Alaric stayed close, grounding her with the steady weight of his hands on her shoulders.

On the bed, Eleanor stirred. When Aveline whispered, "Madam Ashford," her weak eyes fluttered open.

Eleanor’s gaze shifted to Aveline, and then to the tall man beside her. Disappointment filled her face when she identified that the man wasn’t Damien. Still, she reached with trembling fingers.

Aveline hesitated, her chest tightening, but finally placed her hand on top of Eleanor’s fragile one. "You should be in the hospital," Aveline murmured.

Eleanor shook her head faintly. Her voice was barely a whisper, "I know. It’s my time to leave."

Aveline’s heart clenched. Before her regression, she remembered the surgery due to a minor heart attack, then the cardiac arrest.

"You can’t lose hope," she whispered anyway, though the words felt hollow.

But Eleanor shook her head, exhaling heavily, her chest rising and falling with exhaustion. Her eyes met Aveline’s, filled with guilt. "I’m sorry," She whispered, her voice breaking. "It wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have blamed you."

Her expression twisted, pain creasing her face.

And in a split second, the monitor’s rhythm broke. The beeps turned frantic, shrill. Nurses cried out, rushing to Eleanor’s side.

"She’s arresting!" someone shouted. The doctor’s orders filled the room. "Get the paddles.... Charge to 200.... clear!"

The sharp crack of electricity jolted through the air.

Aveline was frozen, her eyes wide, her body stiff. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink. She felt Eleanor’s frail hand slip from hers, felt the static sound of the monitor claw at her ears.

Seeing everything playing out again, Aveline was overwhelmed. She knew she hadn’t put in efforts to save Eleanor other than warning her.

’It wasn’t enough.’ Guilt began overwhelming her.

Damien rushed to the bedside, his face stiff as he stared at the flatline.

The nurses worked frantically, the doctor’s commands echoing. The paddles struck again.

But Alaric tugged Aveline back, steadying her as her lips trembled. Her eyes filled, and tears began rolling.

"I... I want to leave," she whispered shakily, struggling to breath.

He wrapped his arm around her, shielding her from the chaos, and led her out. He saw how broken she was, how every beep itched into her. He wanted to tell her Eleanor would be all right. But deep down, he knew.

She knew too.

....

While Ashfords were rushing upstairs, Alaric helped Aveline into the car, his thumb brushing against her trembling fingers as he drove away.

"Sunshine..." he whispered softly, watching her shake in the passenger seat.

"I’m alright," she murmured after a pause, her voice raw. "I will inform my parents."

The certainty in her tone puzzled him. How could she be so sure?

But Alaric did not press. He only reached across and held her hand, steady, sharing his warmth, but her tears silently rolled down her cheeks.