Chapter 417

Evelyn Carter took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart.

Rosalind Baskins placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Evelyn, as long as your parents are alive, that's already a miracle."

Evelyn nodded, but her emotions were a tangled mess. Relief warred with grief—her parents were alive, but trapped in a nightmare.

She clenched her fists, her mind racing with plans to rescue them and her younger brother, Dominic.

The car ride back was silent, the weight of the situation pressing down on them.

Rosalind glanced at her. "Evelyn, are we heading back to Blackwood Manor?"

"Yes," Evelyn murmured, lost in thought.

Just then, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen—Rosalind Fairchild.

"Rosalind," she answered, forcing calm into her voice.

Rosalind Fairchild sounded hesitant. "Cassandra, about that part-time job you mentioned... I think I want to try it."

Evelyn blinked, momentarily distracted. "You're free now?"

"Yes, completely."

"Good. I'm heading to the Blackwood Residence. Meet me at the gates."

Hanging up, Evelyn straightened in her seat. "Rosalind, change of plans. Take me to the Blackwood Residence."

Rosalind Baskins smoothly adjusted their route.

When they arrived, Rosalind Fairchild was already waiting, her hands clasped nervously.

After quick greetings, Evelyn led her inside, introducing her to Richard and Eleanor Blackwood. She explained the job—Donovan Blackwood needed a counselor and caregiver.

Eleanor studied Rosalind Fairchild’s delicate frame with concern. "Cassandra, I appreciate your help, but this girl isn’t cut out for this."

Rosalind Fairchild squared her shoulders. "Mrs. Blackwood, I can handle it."

Eleanor sighed. "Ms. Fairchild, you don’t understand. Since Donovan woke up, our lives have been chaos. We’ve gone through countless psychologists. No caregiver lasts more than three days—even the men end up injured."

Rosalind Fairchild shot Evelyn a nervous look. Now she understood the astronomical salary.

Evelyn squeezed her hand. "Donovan is blind and paralyzed. He’s aggressive, suicidal, and refuses help. If you’re not sure, don’t push yourself."

Rosalind Fairchild inhaled sharply. The salary flashed in her mind—enough to erase her debts in a year.

She met Eleanor’s gaze. "If I take full-time care, what’s the pay?"

Eleanor hesitated, then held up four fingers. "Forty thousand a month."

Rosalind Fairchild’s eyes lit up.

She grinned. "Mrs. Blackwood, leave Donovan to me. I’ll get him back on his feet."

Evelyn grabbed her arm. "Start part-time first. Don’t rush into this."

But Rosalind Fairchild was already sold. "I can do full-time. Trust me."

Eleanor raised a brow. "Any other requests?"

"Just meals and lodging."

"Done."

Evelyn tugged Rosalind Fairchild aside. "Let me show you Donovan first. You need to understand what you’re getting into."

After polite goodbyes to Eleanor, they stepped into the garden, heading toward the maple grove where Donovan was kept.