The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 47

At six o'clock, they arrived at The Gilded Lily, a private restaurant in the south of the city.

Tucked deep within an alley, it boasted white walls, black roof tiles, and heavy wooden doors adorned with brass rings and red lanterns. Inside was a classic courtyard design complete with small footbridges, running water, and swaying bamboo shadows. Every private room was named after a flower.

"Mr. Sinclair booked the Orchid room," Madeline told the host.

"Right this way."

Winding through the corridors, the trio was led to a room overlooking the water. The space behind the carved wooden doors wasn't large but was tastefully decorated with ink wash orchid paintings on the walls, potted ferns by the windows, and place settings already arranged on a sandalwood table.

"Nice atmosphere." Nathaniel pulled out chairs for the ladies. "A college buddy highly recommended this place. It serves authentic Coastal Valley cuisine, very light, which should suit Ms. Sullivan's tastes."

"Thank you for arranging this, Mr. Sinclair." Evelyn sat down, her gaze sweeping over the rockery and flowing water outside.

The food arrived quickly. Steamed sea bass, shrimp with tea leaves, crab roe tofu, chicken broth cabbage, and wild mushroom soup—all exquisite Coastal Valley flavors. Nathaniel ordered a pot of green tea, skipping the alcohol.

"Here, let's toast with tea." Madeline raised her cup. "To Eve's smooth divorce, and to new beginnings!"

The three teacups clinked gently together.

Halfway through the meal, Evelyn's phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen; it was a text from Lawrence: "Evelyn, I'm waiting for you at home. Drive safe."

She replied: "Got it, Lawrence. I should be there around seven-thirty."

"Everything okay?" Madeline asked.

"I'm meeting Lawrence at seven-thirty." Evelyn set her phone down. "I'll head over right after we finish."

Nathaniel placed a piece of fish on her plate. "Ms. Sullivan, did you bring the divorce agreement?"

"I did." Evelyn pulled the simple document from her bag. "I want to ask him to help reason with Christian. If he signs it, things will be much easier."

"Let's hope so," Nathaniel adjusted his glasses. "But Christian Lancaster... I've dealt with him a few times. He's notoriously stubborn and very hard to persuade."

"I know," Evelyn said softly. "But this is the last option I have. I don't want to drag this out; an amicable split is best."

The room fell quiet, save for the burbling water outside and the faint sound of a zither playing somewhere in the restaurant.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted outside.

It started with the crash of shattering plates, followed immediately by a woman's piercing shriek. "Baby! Baby, what's wrong?! Somebody help!"

The three of them froze.

"What's going on?" Madeline stood up.

Nathaniel threw open the door to find the main dining area descending into chaos. A crowd had formed around a table by the window, where a woman clutched a three- or four-year-old boy, sobbing hysterically. The boy's face was cyanotic, his lips a terrifying shade of blue, eyes rolling back, limbs twitching uncontrollably.

"He... he was just eating a meatball... and then..." the woman babbled incoherently. "Help! Somebody save my son!"

The onlookers held their breath. The med students exchanged helpless, defeated looks.

Just then, a cool, authoritative female voice cut through the panic.

"Move."

The crowd automatically parted.

Evelyn strode forward. Dressed in her off-white trench coat with her hair down, she looked gentle and delicate, but right now, her eyes were as cold and sharp as a scalpel.

"Who are you?" The cardiology grad student frowned. "This is a medical emergency, not a game!"

Evelyn ignored him, dropping straight to the child's side. Her movements were brutally efficient—she flipped the child's eyelids to check his pupils, felt the carotid artery, and leaned in to listen for breath sounds.

The entire assessment took less than ten seconds.

"He's not choking on food. It's asphyxiation induced by a hypercyanotic 'tet' spell," her voice was calm, ringing with unquestionable clinical authority. "When a patient with Tetralogy of Fallot experiences a spell, systemic vascular resistance drops and the right-to-left shunt increases, worsening the hypoxia. Standard first aid won't work."

The med students were stunned. This woman was rattling off terminology with the precision of a seasoned cardiothoracic surgeon.

"Then... then what do we do?" The mother looked at her like a lifeline. "Doctor, please save my son..."

Evelyn didn't answer. She swiftly unbuttoned the boy's collar and positioned him on his back with his knees pulled tightly to his chest—the standard knee-chest position for a tet spell.