Chapter 138
The tranquilizer's effects left Evelyn Sinclair unconscious for an unknown length of time.
When awareness finally returned, her arm felt numb. Then came the sharp, stinging pain behind her eyelids.
She blinked slowly, her vision swimming in darkness.
Was it night already?
Memory crashed back—Victoria Lancaster’s cruel words before the world had gone black. Evelyn bolted upright, ignoring the ache in her limbs. Her hands scrambled across the cold floor in desperation.
The photograph.
Her child’s photograph!
Blindly, she searched, fingers brushing nothing but empty space.
Her phone. She fumbled for it, jamming her thumb against the unresponsive screen. Dead battery.
Then—her fingertips grazed something smooth. A card. The photo Victoria had thrown at her before everything faded.
Evelyn clutched it to her chest, relief flooding through her. But when she held it up, she saw nothing.
She forced herself to stand, swaying. Light. She needed light. But the world remained a blur of shadows, her eyes burning like fire.
Using the wall as a guide, she stumbled toward what she thought was the exit. A faint glow teased the edges of her vision.
She tried to open her eyes wider, to see the photo in her hands. Agony lanced through her skull.
Victoria’s mocking voice echoed in her mind. A cold dread settled in Evelyn’s bones. Trembling, she raised a hand to her face—and touched her eyes.
Her fingers hovered before her face. Only a hazy outline remained. The clarity she once had was gone.
She was blind.
Disbelief turned to horror. She staggered forward, colliding with strangers.
They took one look at the dried blood on her face, her dazed expression, and rushed her to the hospital.
The doctor studied her chart with a frown. "Miss Sinclair, you’ve lost your left cornea. The right is severely damaged. Without a full transplant, you’ll be completely blind."
The words struck like lightning. Evelyn stood frozen, her heart stuttering before it remembered to beat again.
"Thank you, Doctor," she whispered.
Alone in her room, she turned on the bedside lamp with shaking hands.
She traced the edges of the photograph with trembling fingers. Then, clutching it to her chest, she curled into herself, shattered.
Tears burned as they fell.
She lifted her head toward the ceiling. Only blurred light remained. Soon, even that would be gone.
To protect Victoria, Alexander Blackwood had allowed this. He wouldn’t even let her die whole.
Rain tapped against the window. After a day of numbness, Evelyn took the bloodied earring to the police station.
She had lied to Victoria. She hadn’t reported her before. But now, she would.
Sophia Montgomery’s murder would not go unpunished.
The officers took her statement, their voices hushed. Evelyn picked up the pen, her remaining vision straining as she signed her name.