Chapter 406

Chapter 406:

“You knew about your father’s stroke?” Camille asked.

“Their lawyer contacted me. Said my father had collapsed after seeing our engagement announcement. That he was asking for me.” Alexander’s expression hardened. “I told him my father made his choice seven years ago. I was simply honoring it.”

“No,” Camille held his gaze steadily. “Please listen. Just listen to what I have to say.”

For a moment, she thought he would refuse. Then he gave a curt nod, moving back to the counter and his abandoned whiskey.

“Your mother came alone. She didn’t know if I’d see her. She didn’t demand anything.” Camille chose her words with care. “She said they failed you. Those were her words—that they failed you when you needed them most.”

Alexander stared into his glass, saying nothing.

“She said forgiveness would be too much to ask. She just wants a chance to apologize in person. To acknowledge the truth.”

“Why now?” The question came quietly, some of the ice melting from his voice. “Why keep trying after all these years? After I’ve made it abundantly clear I want nothing to do with them?”

“She said they were afraid. Ashamed.” Camille took a step closer, relieved when he didn’t pull away. “Your father struggled to accept what they’d done, that they’d chosen to believe lies.”

Alexander drained his glass, setting it down with a sharp click. “My father, struggling with his precious pride. That sounds about right.”

“But they’re here now,” Camille said. “Still trying to make amends.”

“No.” Alexander shook his head. “They’re here now because they’re getting older. Because James is gone and they’re facing their own mortality. They want absolution before it’s too late.”

“Maybe,” Camille conceded. “Does that make their regret less real?”

Alexander pushed away from the counter, pacing the length of the kitchen. His movements reminded Camille of a caged animal—powerful and restless.

“You don’t understand what it was like,” he said finally. “James was always their golden child. The star athlete, the popular one, the son who could do no wrong. When the accident happened…” His voice caught. “I kept telling them he’d been drinking. That he’d insisted on driving even though I offered to call a cab. That he’d laughed when I asked him to slow down.” Camille stayed silent, letting him speak.

“They looked me in the eye—my son, in a hospital bed with pins in my leg—and told me I must be confused. That James said I had wanted to drive but he stopped me because I’d had too much to drink.” Alexander’s laugh was bitter. “James, the responsible one. James, who would never lie.”

He stopped at the refrigerator, pulling out the whiskey bottle and refilling his glass. “Did she tell you that part? How they chose to believe I was lying rather than face the truth about their precious firstborn?”

“No,” Camille said softly. “She just said they made a terrible mistake.”

“A mistake?” Alexander’s voice dripped with disdain. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

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