Chapter 412

Eleanor and William followed Alexander with heavy steps. Their destination was the shattered remains of what had once been a grave.

Eleanor's breath hitched. "This... This is where Evelyn was buried?"

Her hands trembled as she took in the devastation.

The grave had been obliterated, the tombstone reduced to fragments beyond repair.

"Victoria did this," Alexander stated coldly.

Rage flickered in Eleanor and William's eyes, but it was quickly drowned by overwhelming grief.

Eleanor set down the bouquet she carried and knelt beside the scattered debris.

Her fingers brushed against a small piece of broken stone, cradling it as if it were something precious.

Tears fell silently, staining the cold fragments beneath her.

"My sweet girl..."

William knelt beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as silent sobs wracked his body.

If only they hadn't despised Evelyn so fiercely—if only they had shown her even a fraction of kindness—perhaps this guilt wouldn't be crushing them now.

Alexander watched them, his dark eyes no longer carrying the hollow emptiness they once had when he stood in this very place.

After a long moment, Eleanor steadied herself and rose.

"Where are Evelyn's ashes? I'll rebuild her resting place properly."

"Victoria stole them. I still don't know where they are."

"What?!"

William's face twisted in disbelief. "Why would she do something so vile?"

Eleanor's hands clenched into fists. "That woman... She destroyed Evelyn in life, and now she won't even let her rest in death? I'll make her tell us where the ashes are!"

She turned sharply, but Alexander's voice stopped her.

"Don't bother. She won't tell you anything."

Eleanor froze, her eyes shimmering with bitter regret.

"Mr. Blackwood, I know you hated Evelyn. You probably don't care where her ashes are. I wouldn't have either, before... but now..."

Her voice cracked.

"She was my daughter. How can I let her remain lost even in death?"

A faint smile touched Alexander's lips.

The world thought Evelyn had loved him blindly, but only he knew the depth of his love for her.

His calm wasn't indifference—it was certainty.

"Before you confront Victoria, there's somewhere else you should see."

He turned, his long strides carrying him forward.

After a brief hesitation, Eleanor and William followed.

Alexander led them to the grave of Henry Whitmore.

Eleanor's brows furrowed as she read the name on the tombstone. When she saw that Evelyn had been the one to erect it, shock rippled through her.

"Grandfather?"

Her own father had lived abroad for years—he had never set foot in Willowbrook.

"He was the only family Evelyn had growing up," Alexander explained.

Eleanor and William exchanged glances, gratitude softening their expressions.

"So this kind man raised her..." Eleanor bowed deeply before the grave.

Then, something clicked in her mind.

"Henry Whitmore... That name... I've seen it before."

She frowned, searching her memories.

Then it struck her.

"I remember! There was something with this name at home!"