Chapter 450
Margaret Blackwood was stunned. But she had no intention of leaving. Instead, she stepped directly in front of Alexander Blackwood.
"Alexander, I have something urgent to tell you!" Margaret's voice trembled. "Evelyn isn't dead! She's Vivian Prescott! She confessed it herself two days ago! She really is Evelyn!" Her words spilled out in a frantic rush.
Yet, Alexander remained unmoved. A realization struck her. "Alexander... you—you already knew, didn't you? You knew that woman was Evelyn all along?"
The moment the accusation left her lips, Alexander lifted his gaze to meet hers.
His eyes were glacial, freezing Margaret mid-sentence.
Without a word, Alexander stood and strode away, leaving everything behind.
Margaret chased after him. "Alexander, w-what's happening now? Are you just going to ignore Evelyn? Do you even know what she's done these past two days? Alexander, don't underestimate her! That woman came back for revenge! Alexander—Alexander!"
No matter how desperately she called, Alexander didn’t spare her a single glance.
Frustrated, Margaret stomped her foot before turning to interrogate the department heads for updates on Blackwood Enterprises.
The moment she learned the truth, she nearly collapsed.
She never expected the "resurrected" Evelyn to be this ruthless—this bold. She had nearly seized control of the entire corporation.
After leaving Blackwood Enterprises, Evelyn headed straight to the police station.
She had spent weeks gathering evidence against Victoria Lancaster for Henry Whitmore’s murder. Now, she handed over every incriminating detail.
She also reported Victoria’s involvement in Sophia Montgomery’s death—though she lacked concrete proof for that crime.
Then, she bought white chrysanthemums and made her way to Henry’s grave.
She placed the flowers carefully, lit candles, and bowed deeply.
"Grandpa, your killer will pay soon. I hope you can finally rest in peace."
Her voice wavered. "Even though your daughter was the one who switched me at birth, I’ll always be grateful for the love you gave me. You raised me as your own."
"If there’s another life, I hope we can be a real family then."
Tears blurred her vision as she traced the engraved letters on the tombstone.
Despite her anger toward Beatrice Caldwell, Evelyn knew—without Henry’s protection, she would have died long ago.
She stayed until the candles burned out. But as she turned to leave, she froze.
Alexander was walking toward her.
Dressed in all black, his dark hair tousled by the wind, he still carried that same aristocratic poise.
Evelyn’s expression hardened when she spotted the white chrysanthemums in his hands. "What are you doing here? How dare you show your face at my grandfather’s grave?"
Alexander ignored her insults. He approached the tombstone, placed his flowers, and bowed.
"Stop pretending," Evelyn spat. "If you hadn’t let Victoria get away with everything, my grandfather would still be alive. She’s a murderer, and you’re her accomplice."
Alexander stiffened.
He hadn’t known Victoria was involved in Henry’s death.
"Get out," Evelyn hissed. "Take your flowers and leave. Don’t you dare taint his resting place."
When Alexander didn’t move, she snatched his flowers and hurled them at his feet.
"Do you think a few flowers and a bow will make me forget what you did?" Her voice shook with fury. "Four years, Alexander. Four years, and I still remember how you desecrated his grave—how you dug up his ashes right in front of me, all for Victoria’s sake. Tell me—do you even regret it?"