Chapter 4 Aftermath

The ambulance sped away with John and James inside.

With the main attraction gone, the crowd at the exhibition entrance gradually dispersed, leaving only the bloodstains on the ground.

Evelyn didn't follow.

She stood at the backstage entrance, her gaze lingering for a moment before she finally stopped.

"Ma'am, do you need a break? The exhibition needs to continue," her assistant gently reminded her, noticing her unusual state.

Evelyn lowered her eyes, her fingers tightening slightly before she nodded. "Prepare the schedule."

Her voice was calm, as if nothing had happened.

At the other end of the hallway, Arthur finished giving instructions to his assistant, his expression dark.

"Find out what happened as soon as possible."

His tone was short and forceful, filled with an uncontainable gloom.

He turned to head to the hospital.

Just as he took a step, the backstage door creaked open, pushed from the inside.

A small head peeked out, black eyes scanning the hallway.

Unable to bear the boredom, the child clutched a small sketchbook and tiptoed forward a couple of steps.

Seeing the light and people outside, she hesitated for a moment, then gathered her courage and continued looking.

Arthur's steps halted abruptly.

His brow furrowed, a strange irritation rising in his chest, finding the sight almost blinding.

He coldly averted his gaze and left quickly without a word.

The door to the backstage lounge opened gently.

"Mom."

Ella threw herself into Evelyn's arms, hugging her waist tightly.

Probably smelling the blood on Evelyn's hands, she urgently signed in her mother's palm, her eyes full of worry.

Evelyn was momentarily stunned, then bent down to hug Ella tightly.

A child's embrace was the only comfort.

"Mommy's fine," she reassured softly, forcing a smile.

Ella, however, pressed her cheek, making the sign for "smile," indicating that she should smile.

Evelyn's heart trembled slightly, and she couldn't help but hold her tighter.

The assistant knocked and entered, handing Evelyn a glass of lemon water and giving Ella a milkshake.

"We spoke with the organizers. They said the guest's speech can be canceled. You just need to come out with the curator at the end to thank the audience. The interview segment has been moved to the latter half. We've also informed the press. All questions have been vetted, so there won't be any surprises."

"Okay." She took a sip from the paper cup. "What about the media?"

"We've got it under control. Any photos showing minors' faces have been deleted, and the legal team is outside."

"Good, thank you." She placed the cup back on the tray.

"You're welcome." The assistant hesitated for a moment, then added in a low voice, "Earlier, people saw you helping out backstage. Everyone's praising your calm professionalism. Your reputation has definitely gone up a notch."

Evelyn acknowledged with a simple "Hmm," not responding to the compliment.

She turned and scanned the schedule the assistant handed her, pausing at each change.

"Adjust the lighting for the fourth set, make it two levels dimmer. And change the introduction content in front of exhibit wall number nine to something shorter; it's too long now."

"Got it." The assistant took notes and asked, "Do you need me to inform the curator?"

"No need. You can go. Everything else is fine."

The assistant nodded and left, closing the door behind her, leaving the room in silence.

Ella sat obediently on a small stool beside her, flipping through her sketchbook.

Her lines were clean, her use of color bold, showing more talent than many adults.

She had even sketched the scene she had just glimpsed—a red and white ambulance, a crowd of stick-figure people, and a steady hand.

Next to it, in wobbly handwriting, were the words: [Don't be afraid.]

Evelyn watched for a while, then gently stroked her hair. "Were you scared when you couldn't find me just now?"

Ella shook her head, signing: A little bit.

"Where a little bit?"

Ella placed her hand on her chest, paused, then withdrew it.

Evelyn's throat tightened slightly.

She held Ella's hand in her palm, warming it. "It's okay, don't be afraid."

Ella looked up at her, staring for three seconds before pulling a sticker from her pocket and carefully placing it on her chest.

It was a little sun sticker.

"For me?"

Ella nodded seriously, then signed: For the brave.

Evelyn couldn't help but laugh, her previously heavy mood lifted by Ella's gesture. "Thank you, sweetheart."

There was another knock at the door, this time the curator's voice. "Sorry to interrupt, but we've made some adjustments to the schedule. Can we discuss it now?"

"Come in," she replied.

The curator entered, apologizing profusely before even sitting down.

"I'm so sorry about what happened earlier. We've increased security and simplified the remaining segments. If you feel unwell at any time, please let me know."

"It's fine," Evelyn waved it off. "Stabilizing the exhibition order is more important."

"Of course," the curator nodded vigorously, visibly relieved. "Also, a few important collectors want to greet you backstage. Should we arrange it for after the closing? It won't be public, and we'll control the number of people, no media."

"Send me the list," Evelyn said coolly.

"Sure." The curator handed over a folder, then remembered something. "Oh, the Collins family expressed interest in three pieces. Should we—"

"Have my assistant handle it," she interrupted without hesitation. "They'll discuss the price."

"Understood." The curator wiped his forehead, though there was no sweat, and stood up. "I'll leave you to rest."

Though Evelyn didn't put on airs, her presence was still intimidating.

The door closed again.

Ella, who had been watching, tugged on her sleeve, pointing to the door and then to her, signing "many people."

Then she clasped her hands under her chin in a prayer gesture, her eyes bright.

"Are you wishing me luck?" Evelyn chuckled.

"Mommy," Ella signed, "Will those two boys be okay?"

Evelyn paused.

She thought for a moment, trying to simplify the medical terms for Ella.

"They will be. The doctors will stop the bleeding and check their bodies. You know, everyone has little workers in their blood that fix wounds. Some people's workers are slower, so they need doctors to help."

Ella imagined it for a moment, then drew several little figures with hard hats on her paper, nodding as she did.

When she finished, she handed the paper to Evelyn, her eyes shining, with the words: [Mommy, don't be afraid.]

Evelyn's heart trembled slightly as she looked at the wobbly words.

She gently stroked her daughter's hair, whispering, "Yes, I'm not afraid."

Outside, a staff member's hushed voice called, "Sarah, it's time. Please get ready."

Evelyn took a deep breath, closed the sketchbook, and handed it back to Ella.

"Sweetheart, stay backstage and don't run around."

Ella nodded, clutching her sketchbook tightly, watching her mother walk towards the curtain.

The lights gradually brightened, the music started, and she stepped forward, her back straight, facing countless gazes.

The exhibition officially resumed.