Claire Whitmore never imagined that after all these years, Eleanor Waverly had married someone else, and yet Sebastain Carter was still in love with her.
According to Sebastain, he had sworn lifelong enmity with Reginald Hale.
Over the years, Reginald had continually made things difficult for him. While Sebastain Carter was generally kind and courteous, he wasn't someone who could be trampled on.
He loved Eleanor Waverly—and he knew she still loved him.
Sebastain knew Eleanor wasn't living a good life. Reginald was tormenting her, and he wanted to take her away, to another country, far from Reginald Hale's clutches.
But to do that, he needed Alexander Hale's help.
"I've got the whole plan laid out—it's foolproof." Sebastain knelt before Alexander, holding his shoulders, his eyes sincere and even pleading. "Kid, I'm sure you don't want to see your mother continue suffering. If you want what's best for her, let her go."
Claire Whitmore frowned deeply on the side. She could understand Sebastain's desire to run away with Eleanor, but she couldn't accept that he wanted a child to make the decision to let his own mother run off with another man.
What kind of situation is this? Completely absurd.
Still, Claire knew that their tangled web of relationships couldn't be judged by ordinary standards.
She asked herself: If she were Alexander Hale, and her mother was being abused by her father… If there was a chance for her to live a better life, to find happiness… would she let her go?
Yes, she would.
But with that decision came consequences—like having to accept that she would essentially be a child without a mother.
Asking Alexander to make that decision felt unbearably cruel.
And yet, Alexander Hale didn't hesitate. "I'll help you," he said.
"Really? That's wonderful! You're a good kid. Your mother will be so grateful," Sebastain said excitedly, pulling him into a tight hug.
Alexander's expression didn't change. "If she leaves with you, will she be happy?"
"She will. Absolutely," Sebastain promised.
Alexander paused for a moment and then asked softly, "Then… will she smile at me?"
"Hmm?" Sebastain froze, not understanding.
But Claire Whitmore did—and her heart ached. Eleanor Waverly… had never shown him any affection.
After the banquet, Alexander rode home with Reginald Hale.
As for Claire, she returned the way she came—curled up in the cramped trunk of the car.
On the way back, Reginald asked, "Where did you go?"
"I went to the garden," Alexander replied. It wasn't a lie. That was where they'd talked.
Reginald narrowed his eyes. "With who?"
Alexander's eyes flickered.
Reginald suddenly yanked him by the collar, fury blazing in his eyes. "Sebastain Carter came to see you, didn't he?!"
Alexander stayed silent.
"Idiot!" Reginald roared and slapped him hard across the face. "If I ever catch you with him again, I'll break your legs!"
He shoved the boy aside. Alexander remained passive, like a puppet, unmoved by the shouting or the blow.
Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. He wiped it away casually—clearly used to it by now.
Meanwhile, Claire Whitmore was in the security guards' car, bored out of her mind, counting her fingers to pass time. The trunk was way too cramped. Her legs had long since gone numb.
This whole trip had been pure suffering.
It wasn't until deep into the night that she could finally sneak out. Supporting her aching back, she hobbled wearily back to Alexander's room.
The lights were off. She turned on a lamp and saw Alexander—unusually—sleeping on his side, facing away from her.
Seeing he was asleep, she didn't disturb him. She yawned, stretched, and climbed into the wardrobe.
Since Reginald was still in the house, she had been sleeping in the wardrobe every night just in case. If he ever discovered her, it would be over.
She slept until 8 a.m., woken by the sound of Alexander playing the piano. Rubbing her shoulder, she stumbled out and greeted him groggily.
"Morning," he said, focused on the keys.
Claire patted his shoulder. "Who hunches over like that while playing? It looks awful. Straighten up!"
He quickly sat upright. But out of the corner of her eye, Claire spotted something. Her expression darkened instantly. She tried to get a better look, but he turned away.
Claire forcefully grabbed his chin and turned his face toward her.
Seeing the swollen bruise on one side of his face, Claire ground her teeth. "He hit you again, didn't he?!"
"I'm fine," Alexander muttered, lowering his head.
"You call this fine? Just wait—I'm going to make him pay for this!" Claire seethed.
But Alexander panicked. "What are you going to do?"
"What else? I'm going to give him a good—"
"No!" Alexander interrupted, his voice rising sharply. Claire froze. It was the first time she'd ever heard him yell.
He clutched the hem of her shirt tightly, looking up at her with eyes full of fear and desperation. "Don't go. Please don't. I don't want anything to happen to you."
"Okay, okay—I won't. Calm down," Claire said quickly, alarmed by his reaction.
Alexander, breathing heavily, realized he'd overreacted. He pushed her away and walked to the door, needing air.
Claire wondered—had something like this happened before? Had it ended so badly that it left a deep trauma?
Alexander delivered Sebastain's letter to Eleanor while Reginald was away.
When Eleanor read the letter, her hands trembled with joy—like she'd grasped a lifeline. For the first time, she hugged Alexander.
He stiffened completely, not daring to move.
Tears of joy spilled down her cheeks as she whispered, "Thank you."
It was distant. Formal. That small flicker of warmth inside Alexander was instantly extinguished, his lips tightening again.
Just as he turned to leave, Eleanor stopped him.
"Wait!" she called.
He paused. She probably doesn't even know my name, he thought.
"Is there a woman hiding in your room?" she asked.
Alexander answered with just two words: "There isn't."
Then walked out without looking back.
Claire noticed Alexander looked upset after returning, so she didn't ask any questions.
In fact, Claire had seen the letter.
After leaving with Alexander that night, she'd gone back to find Sebastain again.
He was still sitting in the garden. She had a private conversation with him.
Before she left, Sebastain asked, "May I know your name?"
"Claire Whitmore," she said.
He nodded. "Miss Whitmore, I won't forget you."
"Nor will I forget what you told me tonight. Not even when I'm old."
Sebastain's plan to elope with Eleanor was scheduled for two days later. He had confirmed that Reginald would be away on business for a while.
That morning, Claire was eating breakfast with Alexander when the door suddenly burst open.
Startled, Claire choked on a piece of bread. She couldn't swallow or spit it out, pounding her chest in pain.
Alexander looked up, eyes bright with delight. "Mr. Cross!"
Mr. Cross? Claire blinked. Then her face lit up even more brightly than Alexander's. She turned and called out, "Mr. Cross!"
Julian Cross had just opened the door when he saw Alexander eating breakfast with a strange woman.
Stunned, he froze in the doorway.
And when both of them looked at him with such joy and excitement—like long-lost relatives—Julian was even more confused.
Who is this woman? Do I know her?