Chapter 418

"Evelyn..."

Eleanor's lips trembled as she whispered the name.

Evelyn froze, recognizing it as her birth name.

"Your father and I... we're so sorry." Eleanor's voice cracked. "You were right in front of us all along, yet we were blind. We hurt you, over and over, for that monster Victoria—"

"I know nothing can make up for what we've done. If there's another life, I swear I'll spend it making amends—"

Tears streamed down Eleanor's face as she suddenly pulled Evelyn into a crushing embrace.

"My Evelyn... my precious girl..." she sobbed into Evelyn's shoulder.

The moment felt surreal. Grief and regret blurred Eleanor's vision, making Evelyn's familiar features swim before her eyes.

Evelyn allowed the embrace, her normally composed eyes glistening with unshed tears.

This warmth—this was a mother's love. Something she'd spent her whole life unknowingly craving.

When Eleanor finally released her, she wiped her cheeks hastily. "Forgive me, Miss Prescott. I lost control." She straightened with dignity. "Thank you for tonight. Without you, Beatrice would never have confessed."

Evelyn offered a small smile. "It was nothing, really."

She rose gracefully, her expression settling back into its usual calm mask. "You should rest, Mrs. Kingsley. Alexander and I will take our leave now."

"Let me walk you out."

Eleanor's gaze remained tender as she escorted them to the grand entrance.

The car disappeared down the tree-lined drive, yet Eleanor and William remained rooted in place.

Regret gnawed at them. Only by memorizing Evelyn's face could they ease their guilty consciences.

But some wounds never heal.

The car ride home...

Even after her shower, Evelyn's mind still churned.

As a child, she'd envied others with parents. She'd cursed fate, cursed the parents who'd supposedly abandoned her. Yet all along, they'd loved her. Missed her.

The realization sent warmth flooding through her battered heart.

Then her thoughts turned to tonight's revelations.

'Beatrice claimed she gave me to her sister. But my earliest memories are only of Grandpa Henry. No one else.'

'Beatrice Caldwell... Henry Whitmore... What connects them?'

So absorbed was she that she didn't hear the approaching footsteps.

Alexander studied Evelyn's pensive silhouette against the balcony doors. "Evelyn," he murmured, stepping closer.

Startled from her thoughts, she turned. "Hmm?"