Chapter 370

Golden Lounge

The lounge was nearly empty during daylight hours, with only a handful of patrons scattered across the polished marble floor.

Evelyn followed the waiter through the dimly lit space, her heels clicking softly against the tiles.

At a secluded corner table, Edmund Lincoln waited, his fingers tracing the label of a rare vintage Conti.

"Uncle Edmund."

He looked up, his sharp eyes softening as he set the bottle back into its velvet-lined box.

"Evelyn, you're here."

She slid into the plush chair opposite him, her gaze flickering to the wine. "A gift?"

Edmund chuckled. "An old friend just returned from abroad. He left it for me before heading out."

Leaning forward, he studied her. "So, what brings you to me today?"

Evelyn rested her chin on her palm, a faint smile playing on her lips. "I came to thank you for your help."

Edmund smirked, signaling the waiter for coffee. "Cut the formalities. What do you really want?"

Her smile faded as she straightened. "Today is my mother’s death anniversary."

A shadow crossed Edmund’s face. He exhaled slowly. "I’d forgotten. It’s been so many years."

"Uncle Edmund," Evelyn pressed, "Mrs. Laurent told me my mother died from a rare illness. What kind of illness was it?"

His fingers tightened around his glass. When the waiter returned with coffee, he pushed the cup toward her. "Zoe, I can’t tell you that. Not yet."

"That’s what you always say."

"And it’s always true." His voice hardened. "Your mother made me promise to protect you. Some truths aren’t safe."

Evelyn clenched her jaw, lifting the cup to her lips. The bitterness matched the tension in her chest.

Edmund stared out the window, his expression distant. "I’m serious. There are things you shouldn’t know—especially now."

Especially with Nathan in her life.

"Why?" she demanded.

His sigh was barely audible. "Because your blood isn’t ordinary, Evelyn. And if the wrong people find out—"

"My blood?"

The memory of the hospital flashed through her mind—the doctor’s probing questions after Laura’s attack.

"Is it really that unusual?"

Edmund nodded. "Think about it. Have you ever been seriously ill?"

Evelyn froze.

She hadn’t.

Not even a fever as a child.

When a virus swept through her college dorm, she was the only one untouched.

"Uncle Edmund, why is my blood like this?"

He lowered his voice. "It’s connected to your mother’s illness. But you’re luckier than she was. If you were infected… the survival rate is less than half."

"Infected?" Her fingers trembled around the cup.

Edmund’s gaze darkened. "Genetic infection. And if it happens, Evelyn… there’s no cure."