Chapter 360

"Victoria—" Benjamin called out, but Victoria strode away without a backward glance. Left alone at the table, Benjamin exhaled a long, weary sigh.

Evelyn returned to Wright Manor, clutching a small pastry box in her hands.

The moment Evelyn stepped inside, Margaret hastily set down her silverware and made a beeline for her room.

But Evelyn had already spotted her grandmother at the dining table. She darted forward, cutting off Margaret’s escape.

Margaret lifted her chin, feigning indifference to mask her guilt. She refused to meet Evelyn’s gaze, stubborn as a child caught misbehaving but unwilling to admit fault.

"Grandmother," Evelyn said softly, a gentle smile playing on her lips. "Why do you keep avoiding me?"

Margaret turned her face away, lips pressed into a thin line. Evelyn moved closer, but Margaret pivoted again, presenting her back. Undeterred, Evelyn circled around and held out the box. "I brought your favorite almond tarts."

"I don’t deserve them," Margaret muttered, her voice thick with pride.

Evelyn’s heart clenched. "You’re my grandmother. Why wouldn’t you deserve something as simple as pastries?"

Tears welled in Margaret’s eyes, but she scoffed. "Don’t pretend to be kind. I know what you’re thinking."

Evelyn tilted her head. "And what am I thinking?"

Margaret’s hands trembled. "That I’m a foolish old woman. Blind. Arrogant. I couldn’t even recognize my own granddaughter. I insulted you. I—" Her voice cracked.

The more she spoke, the more her anger dissolved into shame. She swallowed hard, forcing out the words. "I’m rude. I’m ignorant. A burden. But this is who I am. If you hate me, so be it."

Evelyn’s chest ached. Margaret was drowning in self-loathing, yet too proud to reach for help.

"Who told you that?" Evelyn asked gently.

Margaret bit her lip, refusing to let the tears fall.

"You’re the most wonderful grandmother in the world," Evelyn whispered, her own tears spilling over. "How could I ever hate you?"

Margaret crossed her arms, turning away. Silent sobs shook her shoulders.

"Please don’t be angry with me anymore," Evelyn murmured, stepping closer. "I’m sorry."

"I have no right to be angry," Margaret choked out.

Evelyn’s heart shattered. She had spent years abroad, buried in her studies and work.

She’d called home occasionally, but most of her video chats had been with Archibald. Margaret had always tried to keep the conversations going—asking about her day, her health—but Evelyn had often responded with only a word or two.

Margaret had loved her unconditionally, only to be met with indifference. No wonder she believed Evelyn found her irritating.

Handing the pastry box to Rosalind, Evelyn wrapped her arms around Margaret, pressing her cheek against her grandmother’s shoulder.

Margaret stiffened—then trembled, overwhelmed by the unexpected embrace.