Chapter 602: He's Dead Eight Years Ago

Even Abel hadn't expected the connection between the two.

He turned around to carefully assess the upright and gentle young man behind him, finding a resemblance to an old acquaintance.

"Is your father really Willie?"

Eddie clenched his fists hidden in his sleeves, his thoughts drifting back to a time long ago when his father had held his hand and led him into the courtyard. Pointing to the medicinal herbs on the wooden rack, he had explained the names and uses of each one to Eddie.

"Eddie, take a look. This is called Plantago, with a sweet taste and a cold nature."

"Dad, can this herb be consumed?"

"Of course, Plantago has diuretic, cooling, antitussive, and expectorant effects."

"I see. Is it because Sister has been feeling a bit unwell recently that we needed to find it?"

"Yes, Eddie, you're truly clever."

The memories scattered, and in the blink of an eye, they transformed into the tragic scene of a car accident, with his mother no longer breathing.

His father, covered in blood, lay on the ground, barely clinging to life as he grasped Eddie's hand, exerting all his strength to utter his final words.

"Eddie, your mother and I won't be here anymore. You must take care of your sister."

"Okay."

"And...take this, go to Terrace Street, find... Mr. Jonathan Owen."

"Dad, please don't leave us."

"Eddie, the only regret I have is I may never be able to return to Moon Hall, Onistead in my lifetime."

was the first time Eddie

his deceased

two requests: to take care of Kate and

Eddie found Terrace Street, where a master accepted him as

finally learned what Moon Hall was through inquiries and investigations-it was where his father had grown

his grandfather's opposition, he had taken his mother and

the greatest source of pride and deepest shame

She would hum tunes as she prepared

his father wanted to scold them, his mother always intervened with a smile, and before

always say that their

mother due to her humble background. On the contrary,

know was whether his so-called "grandfather" had

Eddie took a deep breath and lifted his head again, his fair and handsome face now bearing a hint of relief. "Yes, my father is called Willie Zamora, and my

words fell, Leandro's

young man before him in a daze, seeing a resemblance to his own unfilial son in the lines

made his way over, his elderly

He seemed somewhat lost.

"Y-you're called Eddie, right?"

"Yes."

father? How's he

that question, Leandro's heart suddenly tightened. He was eager to hear the answer,

laugh, and a hint of resentment and

of the Zamora family,

"I...,"

"He's dead."

"What... what?"

Dead?

just heard. For so many years, due to his own pride and prejudice, he had refused to swallow his pride, but waited

integrity, leaving Onistead with that woman. And

news,

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