Eddie swirled his wineglass. "It's strange—two people in the world can look so alike."
Kathy forked fruit salad. "Looks like your old flame?"
"I don't have old flames. She's the spitting image of that medic I met in Raccoon City—same kindness, to the letter." Eddie drained his red wine and watched Sarah walk toward them.
"Really? If that medic was yours, don't let this one slip. No man wants horns, unless you've a kink—then forget I said anything." Kathy beamed.
Years globe-trotting as an agent had shown her every type—including men who actually enjoyed being cuckolded, faces glowing. Maybe that was the real man.
"You're right. Why so generous all of a sudden?" Eddie turned.
Kathy folded her arms, cryptic smile. "Simple: most men are the same. The more you see, the less surprises you.".
Sarah crossed the lawn in bridesmaid's dress, svelte and radiant—outshining the bride.
"Thanks for coming. Sorry we can't greet you all—please, enjoy this toast!" said the Black middle-aged bride generously.
Eddie clinked glasses with Sarah. "We meet again, beautiful lady."
Sarah blinked, then smiled. "Glad to see you again, Mr. Eddie—bottoms up!"
They smiled at each other and clinked under the sun.
Chapter 559: Daughter's Whitewash Magazine.
Many began cameoing, chatting with friends or striking up strangers.
Kathy and Maria hit it off, whispering and laughing, eyes flicking to the men—topic obvious.
Eddie, escorted by Hilda, found Sarah. "Hey, gorgeous—great outfit."
Sarah gave a sweet smile, softer than Rebecca. "Thanks—you're pretty handsome yourself. Got friends here? Never thought you'd show."
"We all dream of helping while helping ourselves. Picking up trash is still help, even if nobody notices."
"Makes sense—just like the magazines." Sarah produced one.
The pulp specialized in weird sci-fi, running bios—Eddie's included—from odd angles.
The bad became good when viewed differently.
A college girl trading nights sounds terrible—pure negativity.
Reframe: a struggling woman attending class by day, climbing upward—suddenly positive.
The rag half-whitewashed Eddie, sprinkling dirt, keeping him human—no mastermind, just a struggling ordinary guy.
The byline read: Modesty.
Eddie understood: Modesty was his daughter by Alyssa, the reporter who fled Raccoon City.
Only family knew those details; his daughter wouldn't screw him over.
Sarah cupped her chin. "Fun read—I almost thought you wrote it yourself."
"Surprising—you really remind me of my wife, Sarah."
Embarrassed, Sarah wagged a playful fist. "Hey, no hitting on me."
She really was like Rebecca—pure innocence.
Hilda, heels clicking, silently vanished—mimicry skill blending her into the scenery.
Awakened ability born of extraordinary pain.
In Western Federation's control room, Kaplan watched Eddie flirting at the outdoor wedding. "Dying and still chasing skirts? Then die together!"
"Drone strike—drop the new high-yield bombs."
"Copy—Osprey Three commencing."
Kevin, once carefree, now brooded—just a pawn if Eddie was right.
Presidential agent? Nonsense—just a worthless piece.
Eddie sensed something. "Mind giving us a tour? Lovely setup."
Sarah nodded. "Smart choice—guide extraordinaire."
Eddie called Maria and Kathy; they posed beneath a tree.
"Piers, snap us?" Eddie held the camera.
"Sure—won't tell my sister." Piers thumbed up—shameless uncle-in-law.
Even Silver Blade's lone female, Nadia, joined the shot.
Chris sipped absently, lost in thought.
A Western Federation drone crept over the merry wedding and dropped ordnance.
Chris yelled, "Run—bomber overhead!"
Kevin, once optimistic, dove for cover, shielding with debris.
Arias gaped—Western Federation bombing a wedding? Five hundred meters away.
Only deliberate sabotage explained a five-hundred-meter miss.
Eddie shoved Piers. "Move!" He leapt off the cliff with the three women.
Piers stunned—jumping? But survival first; hide, then plan.
The blast hurled Nadia bleeding over the cliff.
The lawn became flaming carnage—flowers shredded, tables burning, most dead.
Three BSAA operatives dead; Chris lost at sea, only deputy Piers alive, badly wounded.
Laughter turned to burning hellscape.
Chapter 560: Maria's Confusion.
Attack? Fine—turn it around and sink Western Federation's prestige to rock bottom.