Chapter 408

Chapter 408:

He crossed the room to her, taking her hands in his. “But you’re right about one thing. I don’t face things alone anymore.”

“I’ll be with you,” Camille promised. “Whatever you decide.”

Alexander nodded, pressing his forehead against hers. “Set it up, then. Somewhere neutral. Somewhere I can leave easily if I need to.”

“Thank you,” Camille whispered.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Alexander said, pulling back to look at her. “This could go very badly.”

“Or it could be the start of healing something you thought was broken forever.” Camille touched his face gently. “Either way, you’ll know you tried.”

Later, as they lay in bed, Alexander spoke into the darkness. “I saw James, you know. Before he died.”

Camille turned to face him, though she could barely make out his features in the dark room. “You never told me that.”

“He came to my office. Looked terrible, drinking too much, his life falling apart.” Alexander’s voice was distant with memory. “Said he had to tell me something important. That he couldn’t live with the lie anymore.”

“What did you do?”

“I told him it was too late. That nothing he could say would change what happened.” Alexander’s fingers found hers beneath the covers. “Two weeks later, I heard he was dead. Drunk driving, they said.”

The pain in his voice wrapped around Camille’s heart. “You couldn’t have known.”

“No,” he agreed. “But I’ve wondered since then… if I’d listened, if I’d let him confess, would he still be alive? Or did the guilt kill him as surely as the drunk driving?”

Camille had no answer for that. She simply held him closer, feeling the steady beat of his heart against her palm.

“When they came after the funeral, I couldn’t bear to see them,” Alexander continued quietly. “Couldn’t bear to watch them grieve for James when they’d abandoned me. And when my father had his stroke last year…” He trailed off. “I told myself they’d made their bed. That they didn’t deserve my sympathy.”

“And now?” Camille asked gently.

“Now I don’t know.” His voice was barely audible. “Part of me still wants to refuse. To make them feel a fraction of what I felt. But another part…”

“Is tired of carrying the weight,” Camille finished for him when he didn’t continue.

“Yes,” he admitted. “Tired of wondering what they might say. If they truly regret what they did, or if they’re just lonely now that James is gone.”

“I’ll meet them,” Alexander said after a long silence. “But I’m doing it for me, not for them. I need to know if there’s anything worth saving. Or if it’s truly too late.”

As his breathing deepened into sleep, Camille remained awake, thinking of Eleanor Pierce and her sad eyes. Of second chances and roads not taken. Of the healing power of truth, even when it comes years too late.

She had persuaded Alexander to meet his parents. Now she could only hope she hadn’t made a terrible mistake.

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