Chapter 632

Alexander Hamilton answered the call with Evelyn Carter standing beside him.

He kept his voice low, responding only with brief "mm-hmms."

Though Evelyn had cried herself dry these past few days, she could still sense the gravity from that call.

Her heart felt like it was being sawed apart by a blunt knife, yet her eyes remained painfully dry.

After hanging up, Alexander slowly knelt before her, taking her icy hands. "About your father... With the warmer weather, we can't delay any longer. If you need time, I can arrange for the morgue—"

The word "morgue" stabbed Evelyn like a needle.

Her father had hated loneliness in life—how could she leave him in such a cold, desolate place?

"Today," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Alexander swallowed hard. "...This afternoon."

"Okay." Evelyn turned toward the hospital room. "Wait outside. I need to change."

She couldn't let her father see her like this—haggard and broken.

Their assistant Daisy had already brought fresh clothes. Evelyn chose the simplest black dress, washed her face, and opened the door.

Alexander immediately steadied her swaying figure.

"I'm fine," she murmured faintly. "Just... my legs won't cooperate."

Suddenly, she was lifted into his arms.

His embrace was warm and secure. Pressed against his chest, she listened to his steady heartbeat.

The car moved smoothly, the scenery drifting past the windows.

"Margaret and my mother are already there," Alexander said softly. "Daisy picked up Grace and Emily too."

Evelyn gazed at the distant rolling hills. "How's Mom holding up?"

"Grace is... struggling. Emily's being strong for everyone."

At the funeral home entrance, Margaret Hamilton stood waiting in solemn black.

Seeing Evelyn's pallid face, she pulled her into a tearful hug. "My dear child..."

Evelyn trembled in her arms.

The midday sun glared harshly, yet couldn't penetrate the cold lodged deep in her bones.

The memorial hall was arranged simply yet warmly.

The scent of jasmine tea lingered in the air. Potted osmanthus bloomed vibrantly—as if her father had merely stepped out for a stroll and would return any moment.

Her fingers shook as she reached for the portrait.

The cold glass made her flinch back.

"This photo..." She stared at her father's kind smile.

"Cropped from your hot springs trip," Alexander explained quietly. "I thought he'd prefer to be remembered like this."

In the picture, her father's eyes crinkled with laughter—captured in his most relaxed, joyful moment.

Margaret gently squeezed her shoulder. "Light some incense for your dad."

Blue smoke curled from the burner.

Kneeling on the cushion, Evelyn finally broke—tears falling as she faced that beloved smile.

"Dad..."