Chapter 319

Evelyn knelt swiftly, her fingers brushing against the child's flushed skin. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead and neck, his tiny body trembling uncontrollably.

When she pressed her palm to his back, damp fabric clung to her touch. His breathing was shallow, erratic. Worse still—angry red splotches bloomed across his cheeks.

"He's having an allergic reaction," Evelyn announced, already working at the buttons of his shirt.

"Get away from him!" Penelope shrieked, clawing at Evelyn's wrist. "Who do you think you are?"

Evelyn didn't flinch. "If we don't act now, he could stop breathing." Her voice was steel.

Serena, pale but resolute, caught Penelope's arm. "She's a friend, Penelope. She knows what she's doing."

Whether it was fear or reason that won out, Penelope's grip slackened. Her sobs were the only protest left as Evelyn bared the boy's chest.

The rash was worse than she'd feared—a wildfire of inflammation.

"What did he eat?" Evelyn demanded, scanning the crowd.

Penelope hiccuped. "Just—just orange juice and a croissant. Was it poisoned?" She whirled toward the waitstaff, venom in her glare. "I'll ruin this place if my son—"

"Enough!" Evelyn's shout cut through the panic. "Clear the area—he needs air! And bring water. Now!"

Chaos rippled through The Canopy. Servers scattered, guests murmuring as one rushed forward with a pitcher.

Serena hovered, doubt flickering—until she met Evelyn's steady gaze.

No time for hesitation. Evelyn scanned the table, rejecting the silverware. Too risky.

Instead, she plunged her fingers into the water, then into Oliver's mouth, pressing deep against his tongue.

Penelope's scream was shrill. "Are you insane? Get your hands off—"

A wet gag cut her off. Evelyn yanked back as Oliver vomited, the acrid stench sending bystanders recoiling.

Penelope retched into her palm, turning away.

"Here." Serena thrust a glass forward.

Evelyn tipped it to Oliver's lips, coaxing small sips between his weak coughs. Gradually, the tremors subsided. His color improved, though his eyes remained shut.

Evelyn exhaled. "Where's his epinephrine pen?"

Penelope blinked, dazed. "He—he doesn't have allergies."

Silence.

Evelyn's jaw tightened. The unspoken truth hung between them: You didn't know your own child.