Chapter 233

The dream began where her childhood memories faded.

Feverish and weak in that hazy recollection, little Evelyn was taken to the hospital by her mother. As the IV dripped, her mother—after asking if she was hungry—promised to return with a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup.

Before leaving, her mother paused at the door, tears glistening in her eyes as she gazed back at Evelyn.

But the face remained blurred. No matter how Evelyn strained her memory, her mother's features stayed just out of focus.

Then Gregory arrived. "I'm your father," he declared. "From now on, you're a Whitmore. Understand? Come. You're coming home with me."

Too young to recall her original surname—had it been her mother's?—all she remembered was the tender nickname: "Stardust." The day Gregory claimed her, "Evelyn Whitmore" became her identity.

At the convent, Mother Vivian remarked how cold the name sounded. "Luna means the moon—silver in alchemy. A lonely metal for a child already abandoned."

So Mother Vivian renamed her Evelyn, explaining it meant "life" and "light." She wanted the girl to be both radiant and resilient—a warrior cloaked in grace.

Most importantly, Mother Vivian warned: "Guard your heart. Never show your vulnerabilities. The world preys on the unprotected."

From then on, she was Evelyn Whitmore.

To her, Mother Vivian was the only warmth in a childhood starved of affection.

The dream twisted into a labyrinth. No matter how desperately she ran, exits vanished before her.

Sometimes Mother Vivian appeared, sorrow etched on her face. "Evelyn, New Capital City is dangerous alone. Trust no one—least of all men..."

Other times, her mother's voice floated through the maze. "Stardust, I'm just getting soup. I'll be back soon..."

She could see them—but never touch them.

Mother Vivian dissolved into shadows. Her mother walked away, strides quickening.

Evelyn sprinted after her, terror clawing her throat. Just as her fingers brushed her mother's sleeve—she plummeted into a well.

Darkness swallowed her. Above, someone slid a stone over the opening. Her screams died against the walls.

Then the water came.

It rose relentlessly, filling her lungs as she clawed at slick stones. Drowning. Suffocating. Dying—

Evelyn jolted awake. The bedroom was silent, bathed in moonlight. Just a nightmare.

Yet her mouth held the bitter aftertaste of tobacco.

Strange. She never smoked.

A rough grip tilted her chin. Lips captured hers, teeth grazing with possessive hunger.

Moonlight revealed the man looming over her.

Nathaniel.

He's... kissing me?! Her pulse exploded.