Chapter 342

Gregory Wilson's arm was still bleeding. Evelyn Carter firmly pressed him onto the sofa.

[Where's the first aid kit?]

"Had one before. Probably expired now." Gregory gave a bitter smile. "Kept it here when I lived here, but back then I was young and reckless. Never bothered with minor injuries—just went straight to the hospital."

Evelyn glanced at his bloodstained shirt. [I'll get medicine.]

"It's too late. Not safe."

[The frame had rust.]

Gregory's expression darkened.

They were both doctors. They knew what that meant.

No one took tetanus risks lightly.

"I'll go with you."

Evelyn stopped him. [Don't let the wound get wet. The pharmacy's just at the corner.]

Gregory sighed. "Ironically, I came here to take care of you."

He handed her his phone. [Take an umbrella. Call the police if anything happens.]

The rainy night was silent. The streets were empty.

The pharmacy glowed with warm light.

Evelyn typed her list on the phone: antiseptic, cotton swabs, tetanus shot...

"Can't you speak?" the clerk asked softly.

Evelyn pointed to her throat and shook her head with a smile.

The clerk understood and turned to gather the supplies.

The doorbell chimed.

"Burn ointment, please... Mrs. Hamilton?!"

Evelyn looked up into a familiar face—Richard Jackson, the mutual friend of Alexander Hamilton and Annabelle Taylor.

"What happened to your voice?" Richard looked shocked.

The clerk explained, "This lady can't speak right now."

Richard tried to ask more, but Evelyn was already heading to the register.

"That'll be 28 pounds."

Evelyn opened her wallet. Only a single 10-pound note remained.

[Is there an ATM nearby?] She typed on her phone.

Richard leaned in. "Trouble?"