Chapter 417

Beatrice Caldwell froze in shock, her face draining of color. She shook her head violently, refusing to accept the truth.

"No! That can't be! Impossible! How could that wretched woman be Madam’s daughter? She doesn’t deserve it! She’s unworthy of being a Montgomery! She’s nothing but trash—"

"Enough!" Eleanor Kingsley snapped, her voice trembling with fury. "How dare you speak of my daughter like that? If she’s unworthy, then what does that make you? After all the despicable, shameless things you’ve done, you still have the audacity to judge her? Beatrice, you have no humanity, no conscience. You don’t even deserve to be called human!"

Eleanor’s words were sharp, each one laced with venom. The thought of what Evelyn Sinclair must have endured all these years because of Beatrice’s treachery made her chest ache unbearably.

"Eleanor, what’s wrong?" William Montgomery caught her as she swayed, his grip tight with concern.

Tears spilled down Eleanor’s cheeks as she clutched her chest. "William, it hurts. It hurts so much. Our daughter should have had a life of comfort and happiness. Instead, she was—"

Her voice broke, her tear-filled eyes burning with rage as she glared at Beatrice.

"From the moment you stepped into the Montgomery household, have I ever treated you poorly? I gave you kindness, helped you build a life, even arranged your marriage! And how did you repay me? With betrayal! With cruelty!"

"Sophia was a good girl. Even after we discovered she wasn’t ours, we never mistreated her. But you? What did you do to my child? If not for your scheming, my Evelyn would still be alive!"

Beatrice’s lips twisted in defiance. "Madam, I never intended for things to turn out this way. I gave Evelyn to my sister—she was supposed to take care of her!"

Her voice dripped with bitterness. "But your daughter killed mine. Even in death, she carries the weight of her sins. She got what she deserved! My Sophia was the true victim here!"

"You—!"

Eleanor and William were seething.

The sheer audacity of Beatrice’s words was staggering.

After committing such unforgivable acts, she still had the nerve to play the victim.

"Beatrice, listen to me! My daughter never harmed anyone. She was innocent! Sophia’s death was not her doing! But you—you murdered my child! You destroyed her with your greed and malice!"

Eleanor’s composure shattered. Years of suppressed grief and fury poured out in a torrent.

"You claim you want justice for your daughter? Fine. Then I will have justice for mine. You will answer for every vile thing you’ve done!"

With one last scathing look, Eleanor turned and stormed away.

William wasted no time. He called the police immediately.

Within minutes, officers arrived. William recounted the entire sordid tale, and Beatrice was dragged away, still screaming about her daughter’s innocence, blind to the devastation she had wrought.

The house fell into silence, but the air remained heavy with sorrow.

Evelyn exchanged a quiet word with Alexander Blackwood before heading upstairs to Eleanor’s room.

Outside the door, she heard muffled sobs.

A sharp pang of sympathy twisted in her chest.

Taking a steadying breath, Evelyn knocked lightly. "Mrs. Montgomery? Are you alright?"

The crying stopped abruptly. A moment later, Eleanor’s strained voice answered. "Miss Prescott, please come in."

Evelyn stepped inside to find Eleanor hastily wiping her tears, forcing a weak smile. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face pale.

The sight tugged at Evelyn’s heart.

"Mrs. Montgomery, please don’t grieve like this. If your daughter could see you now, she wouldn’t want you to suffer for her sake."

Eleanor’s composure crumbled. Fresh tears spilled over as she gazed at Evelyn, her hand trembling as she reached out to gently brush Evelyn’s cheek.

The warmth of the touch sent an inexplicable ache through Evelyn’s chest.