Chapter 617

Andrew Anderson bent forward deeply, his forehead nearly touching his knees.

"Please."

Alexander Hamilton's throat tightened as he watched the older man's hunched silhouette.

This once-proud man now bowed his head repeatedly for his wife and daughters.

And the person he was pleading with was the last man he'd ever respected—Alexander himself.

"I promise," Alexander's voice was rough. "But Evelyn is far stronger than you think."

"I know." A hint of pride flickered across Andrew's face. "She's always been the most sensible one. With you by her side, I can rest easier. But Emily—"

His voice cracked.

The older man wiped his face roughly with calloused hands before gripping Alexander's wrist with startling force.

"I know it's too much to ask, but...if Emily ever suffers in her marriage, will you—"

His trembling voice trailed off.

"I understand." Alexander clasped his hand gently. "Anyone who hurts Emily will answer to me."

Andrew gave a hoarse chuckle. "You punk."

"Feel better now?"

"You..." Andrew shook his head. "When you care for someone, you give your whole heart."

Alexander knew exactly what he meant.

"From now on, Evelyn is my only priority."

After a pause, he added, "And Grace and Emily too."

At the mention of his daughters, Andrew's expression softened instantly.

"What are your plans for Evelyn and the company?"

"First, I'll help stabilize the business. After that, whether she wants to keep running it or return to medicine is her choice."

Andrew clapped him heavily on the shoulder. "Remember your words today. If you ever betray Evelyn, I'll haunt you from the grave."

The older man exhaled as if a weight had lifted.

Alexander vowed solemnly, "If I break my promise, you have every right to take my life."

Andrew pressed a hand to his chest, his face pale.

"Are you alright? Let me take you to the hospital."

"No need." He waved weakly. "I want to spend my final days at home."

Turning, he pushed open the fire exit—his posture bent but resolute.

Alexander remained rooted until the figure disappeared down the hallway.

When he turned, his breath caught.

Evelyn stood at the stairwell landing, her eyes red-rimmed.

"How long—"

"I heard everything." Her voice was feather-light. "Thank you for respecting Dad's wishes."

Alexander moved quickly, wanting to wipe her tears but hesitating.

"Don't grieve. You're the one he worries about least."

Evelyn gripped the railing, gaze fixed where her father had sat.

"Dad never knew how to sweet-talk." A sudden smile touched her lips. "When we ate out as kids, he'd always say he wasn't hungry. I'd leave half my rice for him, and he'd immediately give it to Emily."

The memory made her eyes shine.

Alexander listened silently, unwilling to interrupt this rare moment of warmth.

"Enough." Evelyn drew a deep breath. "Let's go back."

She turned toward the stairs—her frame slender but spine straight.

Watching her, Alexander's chest ached.

He knew this stubborn woman was using every ounce of strength not to collapse before her father.