That was the only reason Evangeline had survived.
Growing up as a Lockridge, Finn had seen countless horrors committed by those who aligned with Victor. He'd even witnessed tortures far worse. Victor was a madman, and Finn himself was no saint. In the Lockridge family, only the ruthless survived.
But now, thinking about it, a deep revulsion for Victor—and for the man he used to be—welled up inside him.
It shouldn't have been this way. Evangeline should have had a bright, promising future. Her youth and potential should never have been so brutally crushed by someone else's selfish need for revenge.
Nearly an hour later, Evangeline and Sybil emerged from the cabin. Whatever they had discussed, it had clearly gone well. Both women were smiling, their moods visibly lifted.
Sybil extended her hand. "A pleasure doing business with you."
Evangeline shook it, her own smile genuine. "The pleasure is all mine."
"Well, I'll leave you two to it," Sybil said, her eyes flickering knowingly between Evangeline and Finn. With another smile, she turned and walked away.
"What did you talk about?" Finn asked, raising an eyebrow at the radiant smile on her face.
Evangeline's expression turned mischievous. "That's a secret."
Finn didn't press, just smiled and gently ruffled her hair.
…
That same night, back at the hospital, Old Mrs. Fawkes had shown signs of improvement.
The old woman was still too weak to sit up, but she was conscious and could speak a few words at a time.
When Flora got the news, she rushed to the hospital and collapsed by the bedside, sobbing about how scared she'd been. Clyde Fawkes and Helena Carlisle were also there, anxiously asking how she felt.
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