Chapter 361

Old Mr. and Mrs. Hampton had gathered in Chicago Bay, along with Oliver and his family. Yet Oliver had only brought his youngest daughter, Hazel; his wife Violet, along with his two sons and eldest daughter, Abigail, were absent. Though Eleanor hadn’t kept in contact with Oliver’s family for some time, their affairs had not escaped her notice. After she personally sent Michael to prison, his life had derailed beyond repair; Mathew’s company was now on the brink of collapse, keeping him up to his ears in work and worry. Violet had lost all spirit, bedridden and barely present, while Abigail—a dropout from Harvard and plagued by depression—seemed irrevocably broken. This unraveling, Eleanor knew, was largely her doing. But Oliver himself seemed little better off. He looked as though he had aged years in mere months, gray streaks marking his hair, deep lines creasing his face, and a weary pallor shadowing his brow. Only Hazel showed any vitality, wearing sharp, tasteful makeup that highli