Chapter 88

Auntie Marry tossed her apron over the back of a chair and hurried toward Margaret Hamilton's bedroom to start packing.

In the living room, Margaret sat on the sofa with her eyes closed. Her fingers moved methodically over the prayer beads in her hand, her lips murmuring silent words.

Alexander Hamilton stood before his mother, hesitating.

Finally, he turned and walked toward the bedroom.

Auntie Marry had already neatly folded several garments and was placing them into a suitcase.

"Alexander."

"Madam."

"Let me help you."

"No need," Auntie Marry waved him off. "I can manage."

His hand hovered midair before slowly withdrawing.

"Auntie Marry... are you afraid of Annabelle?"

Her hands stilled. Her gaze flickered. "N-no, of course not."

"Please, speak freely."

Auntie Marry sighed. "Alexander, I've served the Hamiltons for thirty years. Your mother treats me like family. There are things I must say."

"Go on."

"Miss Annabelle..." She lowered her voice. "She isn't the right match for you."

His brow furrowed. "Why?"

"Marriage isn't like dating. Miss Annabelle has always been... impulsive." She hesitated. "Do you remember that incident with the chicks outside your school?"

"I do."

"I saw it with my own eyes. She got into an argument with the vendor and smashed an entire crate of chicks with a brick." Auntie Marry's hands trembled slightly. "Those poor things were still chirping..."

Alexander's face darkened.

"Her father paid compensation, and that was the end of it. But some things can't be fixed with money." Her eyes reddened. "Ever since your mother learned about Evelyn's miscarriage, she's been devastated."

The word struck him like a knife.

That scene at the hospital flashed before his eyes again—the vivid red staining Evelyn's palms.

"Your mother never cared about marrying into high society. She always thought Evelyn was perfect for you." Auntie Marry wiped her eyes. "Evelyn gave you three years of her life, and this is how it ended... It breaks your mother's heart."

The sound of prayer beads clicking together echoed clearly from the living room.