Chapter 610

Olivia Lightfoot's call hadn't ended yet when Evelyn Carter pulled up her father's medical records on her computer.

The line went dead silent.

Her fingers turned white around the phone. "Olivia?"

"Dr. Carter..." Olivia's voice sounded raw. "I..."

"Did you find my father's records?" Evelyn's voice was unrecognizable.

A single syllable. "Yes."

She drew a sharp breath. "Tell me everything."

Olivia knew her too well—that's why she hesitated. "Your father...has late-stage lung cancer. Diagnosed days ago. They're giving him medication, but it's just..."

A high-pitched ringing drowned out the rest. Evelyn mechanically said, "I see," before her fingers slackened. The phone clattered to the floor.

As she bent to retrieve it, darkness swallowed her vision. She pitched forward.

"Evelyn!"

Alexander Hamilton's voice cut through the night. He vaulted over the balcony railing, landing beside her in one fluid motion.

"What happened?" He crouched, pressing the phone back into her hand. "What did Olivia say?"

Evelyn stared blankly. "...Lung cancer."

The night air stilled.

Alexander's throat worked. No words came.

"Is there any—" He bit back the question. She was a doctor. This was cruel.

Evelyn's lips trembled. "If there were targeted drugs..."

"What do the records say?"

"...None." Her voice grated like sandpaper. "Those medications Olivia mentioned? Standard chemotherapy."

His heart plummeted.

Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut. "I knew something was wrong...but how..."

"Come inside." His voice softened. "It's too cold out here."

"I can't sit still—" Her nails dug into her palms. The shawl slipped from her shoulders. Alexander snatched it up, wrapping it tightly around her.

His arms encircled her carefully. "Your father hid this because he didn't want you worrying. Tomorrow we'll visit the hospital. Maybe—"

He tried to help her up, handling her like glass.

Evelyn swayed as if walking on clouds, that relentless buzzing in her ears.

True agony, she realized, came without tears.

She let Alexander guide her, her gaze unfocused.

"I'll contact the top specialists." His voice strained. "If not here, then abroad."

At the word "treatment," her eyes finally sharpened. "It's pointless... I'm a doctor. I know what late-stage means."

Her voice dwindled to a whisper—a death sentence.

"I'm out of options." The tears fell at last.

Alexander exhaled in relief. "Good. Cry. You don't have to be strong with me. Your mother and Emily still need you."

Her legs buckled. He caught her effortlessly.

The night dew had soaked through her clothes, leaving her cold as a corpse. Only his warmth felt real.

Right now, she didn't care who he was. She just needed to speak.

"What did I do wrong?" Her voice shattered. "I've saved so many lives, yet everyone I love leaves me... First our baby, then you, now..."

The words died.

Alexander offered silent support.

Evelyn didn't sob. She simply buried her face in shadow. "It feels like I'm always losing something. When we lost the baby, I thought that was rock bottom. Now I see...it was only the beginning."

Memories sliced like shards—the sterile exam room, her father's evasive glances.

Alexander waited until she finished before gently stroking her back. "I'll stay. Even if you push me away."

No response.

"Just tell me..." His breath ghosted against her hair. "Do I still count as someone you care about?"