Chapter 633

Evelyn Carter accepted the incense stick from Alexander Hamilton, her fingertips trembling slightly. She lit the incense and bowed deeply three times before her father's portrait.

Thin wisps of smoke curled upward from the burner, lingering before the black-and-white photograph.

The funeral hall was so silent you could hear breathing. The staff had tactfully retreated to give the grieving family space.

The sound of wheelchair wheels approached. Anthony Taylor pushed Teresa Taylor forward, their faces etched with unconcealed concern.

"Thank you," Evelyn's voice was feather-light. "These are things I should be doing myself."

Her nails dug into her palms through the fabric of her clothes. The thought of others handling her father's final arrangements was excruciating.

Teresa clasped Evelyn's icy hand. "If your father could see you now, it would break his heart. We can never repay what we owe him."

Anthony's eyes reddened. "I thought we'd be friends for life. Who knew..." His voice cracked.

The staff member knocked gently. "It's time. A family member needs to come with me."

All eyes turned to Evelyn.

She stared at the door leading to the crematorium, her legs leaden. If she didn't go through, could she pretend her father was still here?

Alexander's hand covered hers. That always-warm hand now matched her chill.

"Should I go?" he murmured, careful not to disturb her grief.

Evelyn shook her head. Drawing a shaky breath, she rasped, "I'll see him off."

"Your mother and sister—"

"I'll inform them," Anthony interjected. "They're in the lounge. Grace Anderson hasn't woken yet."

Evelyn nodded mechanically, hollowed out.

Alexander supported her as if she were fragile porcelain. These past days had whittled her down to nearly nothing.

"They..." Evelyn spoke suddenly, "might not be able to bear seeing Dad..."

Her gaze drifted to the small viewing room. Andrew Anderson lay peacefully in his casket wearing his favorite jacket, looking as if he might wake any moment.

The man who could never sit still now lay motionless.

"Should I step out?" Alexander asked softly.

"No." Evelyn shook her head. "I've said everything I needed to."

Silence stretched. The staff member reminded gently, "My condolences, but we must proceed."

Alexander opened his mouth to request more time, but Evelyn stopped him.

"Dad hated inconveniencing people," she said quietly but firmly. "We can't let him leave uneasy."

"But Aunt Grace and—"

"Mom would collapse." Evelyn stared at her father through the glass. "Emily's too young..."

As the staff prepared to close the casket, Evelyn rushed forward. Pressing her forehead to the cold glass, she whispered:

"Be careful on your journey, Dad."