Alex stood at the edge of it all, staring at the wreckage left behind—the blood, the chaos, Charles’s and Josephine’s bodies lying still.
His pulse hammered in his ears, but then something changed. The air around him shifted. The world slowed.
And then, everything rewound.
The noise faded.
He was back—five minutes ago.
Not time travel. Not a dream. Something deeper.
Ever since he’d reached that new level of connection with the universe, he could feel it—the current running through everything.
He could communicate with it. See the threads of what might happen before they unfolded.
It wasn’t imagination. It was as real as breath, as sharp as pain.
The universe whispered, and he saw possibilities like scenes layered over one another—some leading to life, others to death.
Now he stood once again where it all began.
Charles walked toward him.
“Alex,” he said quietly. “I know I’ve done you wrong. I’ve been thinking about things—about my parents, about the mess I made. I want to make it right. Can you forgive me?”
He extended his hand.
“Sure,” Alex took a slow breath and reached out.
Their hands met.
Then—silver flashed.
The knife came out of nowhere, slamming into Alex’s chest.
“Die!” Charles roared, his face twisting with madness. “I’ll inherit the Guise fortune! The Paris estate—it’s all mine!”
The blade hit, but didn’t sink.
Alex didn’t flinch.
He looked down at the trembling knife, then back up at Charles.
“Stop this,” he said coldly. “You can’t hurt me.”
Charles’s breath caught. The knife hadn’t even scratched him.
“No—no, that’s impossible!” he screamed and stabbed again, harder, faster. Each strike bounced off like metal on stone.
“Just stop,” Alex said, his voice low, calm, unshakable.
But then Charles’s eyes flicked past him—toward the approaching figure. Josephine.
In a heartbeat, he turned the blade on himself. The steel plunged into his own stomach. He gasped, then screamed loud enough to split the air.
“Alex!” he shouted in agony. “You tried to kill me!”
The cry drew every head in the courtyard. People turned, frozen in shock.
Josephine ran toward them. “Charles! What happened?!”
He collapsed into her arms, blood spreading across his shirt. He clutched the knife and pointed a shaking hand at Alex. “He stabbed me! He wanted me dead!”
Josephine’s face twisted from horror to fury. She turned to Alex, eyes burning.
“Alex! How could you?” she cried. “How could you do this to him? You’re a monster!”
“I didn’t stab him,” Alex said.
Josephine’s eyes burned red with tears.
“You didn’t stab him? Don’t you dare lie to my face, Alex!” she shouted, voice shaking.
“Look what you’ve done! If something happens to Charles, I swear—I’ll hate you for the rest of my life!”
She turned in a panic. “You’re the doctor, fix him now! I’m getting the bandages!”
She ran toward the room, her hands trembling.
Alex knelt beside Charles. The man groaned, clutching his stomach, his face twisted in fake agony.
But the moment Josephine disappeared from sight, his expression changed. The pain vanished—replaced by a cold, cruel smile.
Charles’s voice dropped to a whisper. “If you don’t kill yourself in the next twenty-four hours,” he hissed, “I’ll kill Josephine. And Ruth. And every damn child in this orphanage.”
Alex’s jaw tightened. “You don’t dare.”
“I stabbed myself, didn’t I?” Charles snarled. “You think I wouldn’t stab someone else?”
His eyes burned with wild hatred. “I will poison the drinking water. Everyone in this place will be dead by tomorrow. No mercy. Unless you do what I said.”
Alex froze, staring at him. Then fury took over. He grabbed Charles by the throat, fingers digging in hard.
“You bastard,” Alex growled. “Do you want to die?”
Charles laughed through his choking. “You think I’m scared to die? I’ve got nothing left to lose!”
His grin was deranged. “The only thing that matters now is making you die. If you want to save them, you’ll do it my way.”
Alex’s grip tightened until Charles’s face flushed red. “You think I won’t kill you?”
Charles spat blood and laughed harder, shaking. “You won’t. Because you’re soft. Because you care too damn much. You’ll hesitate, just like always.” He coughed, then sneered, eyes blazing.
“You could’ve killed me a hundred times,” Charles sneered.
“But you didn’t. You’re afraid—afraid Jasmine will hate you, afraid Josephine will break if I’m gone. I matter to them. You’re the coward. I’m holding your weakness in my hand, and I’m holding these kids’ lives over you.”
Alex didn’t move. His hands trembled—not from fear, but from rage barely held in check.
He could crush Charles’s windpipe in a heartbeat.
End it right there.
Yet, he stayed frozen—between fury and restraint—as Charles smiled up at him, like the devil who knew he’d already won.
“Alex! What the hell are you doing?” Josephine shouted, rushing forward.
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