Chapter 935

Vivian Dempsey's fingers twisted together until they turned white.

She stared at Alexander Hamilton's impassive face, her throat clogged with unshed tears. Two decades of prejudice weighed on her like a mountain, rendering her speechless.

Evelyn Carter gave her hand a subtle squeeze.

"I always repay my debts," Vivian straightened abruptly, voice trembling. "If you ever need anything, just ask."

It sounded like a declaration of war.

Alexander chuckled softly, but his gaze drifted toward Evelyn. His face was alarmingly pale, beads of sweat forming at his temples.

"How much did you give?" Evelyn rushed forward to steady his swaying frame.

"Four hundred."

Evelyn's pupils constricted.

Vivian's water bottle clattered to the floor. Four hundred milliliters—the maximum donation limit. No wonder he could barely stand.

The operating room doors burst open.

"More blood needed!" A nurse's mask was smeared with crimson. "At least another four hundred!"

The hallway air turned to ice.

Vivian's knees buckled, only the wall keeping her upright. The blood bank was empty. Her grandmother couldn't wait.

"I'll do it." Alexander pushed himself up using the chair, his sleeve still stained with antiseptic.

"No!" Two nurses gasped in unison.

He unfastened his cufflink. "That's my fiancée's most cherished family member in there."

Vivian's tears splattered against the tiles.

Evelyn's nails dug into her palms. Reason and emotion warred within her until the heart monitor's alarm pierced the operating room.

"I'm coming with you." She seized Alexander's icy hand.

In the donation room, dark crimson snaked through the tubing. Evelyn watched the viscous flow, stomach churning. She'd witnessed bloodier scenes, yet now each breath felt like shards of glass.

"I weigh ninety kilos." Alexander's lips were turning chalky. "This amount..."

Evelyn pressed down on the cotton swab covering his puncture site. Eight hundred milliliters—equivalent to two water bottles. Suddenly she remembered the stack of donation certificates in his study drawer, dating back five years.

"Thank you." Her voice feathered the air. "In Evelyn's name."

Not for the Dempseys. Not out of politeness. For the first time, she thanked him simply for being himself.

Something flickered in Alexander's eyes. He braced against the donation table, rising unsteadily—only to collapse at the third step.

The last thing he heard was Evelyn screaming his name with raw desperation.