Chapter 180
Rain tapped against the windows of Camille's office as she reviewed quarterly reports. The sky had darkened early, turning afternoon to evening without her noticing. She rubbed her tired eyes, realizing she'd been staring at the same page for ten minutes.
Her assistant's voice came through the intercom. "Ms. Kane? There's someone here to see you. She doesn't have an appointment."
Camille frowned. "Who is it?"
"A Mrs. Pierce. She says it's personal."
Camille's hand froze. Pierce. Alexander's family name. But he rarely spoke of his parents, and when he did, his voice turned cold in a way that reminded her of Victoria at her most distant.
"Send her in," Camille said, smoothing her skirt as she stood.
The woman who entered moved with quiet grace, her shoulders pulled back despite the obvious tension in her face. She was tall and slim, with silver-streaked dark hair pulled into a neat bun. Her clothes were expensive but understated. But it was her eyes that caught Camille's attention. They were Alexander's eyes exactly, the same deep blue that could shift from warmth to ice in seconds.
"Ms. Kane," the woman said, her voice soft but steady. "Thank you for seeing me without notice. I'm Eleanor Pierce."
Camille gestured to the chair across from her desk. "Please, sit down."
Eleanor perched on the edge of the seat, clutching her handbag like a shield. "I imagine this is quite surprising. Alexander doesn't know I'm here."
"He's never mentioned you would visit," Camille agreed, studying the woman's face. The resemblance was unmistakable now.
"He wouldn't," Eleanor said, pain flashing across her features. "My son hasn't spoken to me or his father in almost seven years. Not even when we begged him to after James died."
The rawness in Eleanor's voice made Camille pause. Alexander had told her fragments of his history, about the car accident, his brother walking away unscathed while Alexander spent months in the hospital. About his family choosing sides. About his brother's death four years ago and his parents' desperate attempts to reconnect that he'd ruthlessly rebuffed.
"Mrs. Pierce, why have you come to me now? After all this time?"
Eleanor's fingers whitened around her bag. "Because I'm running out of hope." Her voice cracked. "Four years of silence. Four years of trying to reach him with no response."
The admission hung in the air between them.
Camille
years of letters returned unopened. Four years of calls ignored. Four years standing outside his building just hoping to catch a glimpse of him." Her composure fractured. "Do you know what it's like to see your child on magazine covers and realize you don't know him
we failed him. His father and I... we made
silent, letting
When the accident happened, we couldn't believe James would have been driving recklessly. We couldn't face that he'd
took James's side," Camille said
to walk again, fighting through surgeries and pain no young man should endure. We chose to believe
own eyes burning. The raw anguish in Eleanor's
him," Eleanor continued after composing herself. "We went to his apartment the day after the funeral. He wouldn't even
envelopes from her bag, held together with a ribbon. "I've written him every month for four years. Birthdays.
me?" Camille asked. "After all these
smile again," Eleanor said simply. She extracted a magazine clipping, a photo of Alexander and Camille at a charity event, his head thrown back in genuine laughter. "I haven't seen him laugh like this since before the accident. You've given him something I thought was
from me?" Camille asked,
know the truth directly from me. Not from a letter he won't read." Her eyes burned with intensity. "I need to tell my son, to his face, that he was right. That we were wrong. That we've paid for our betrayal
about his father?" Camille
him. Alexander's refusal to acknowledge us destroyed what was left." Her voice hardened. "Four years ago, Edward drove to Alexander's building every day
when Edward saw your engagement announcement, he collapsed. Had a minor stroke. The doctor said it was stress, but I know it was grief. The realization that Alexander had built a new life we'd
"I know we don't deserve another chance. But Alexander deserves the truth. He deserves to hear us say he was
giving Eleanor a moment. The rain was letting
she asked, "did Alexander know
apartment the day after the funeral. Edward was in shock. I
closed her eyes. "We sent James's letter by courier the next day. It came back unopened. We tried his
surgery. He looked at us with such emptiness. He said, 'You've chosen. So have I.' He hasn't spoken to us since. Seven
now? If I
Eleanor's voice strengthened with conviction. "That a mother is supposed to protect her child, and I failed at the most fundamental duty. That
understand if he can never forgive us, but
"And his father?"
without breaking down," Eleanor said quietly. "He keeps a file of every news article. He follows all of Alexander's companies, buys stock in each one." She gave a broken laugh. "He has this absurd idea
us hope. That perhaps Alexander could forgive, could rebuild after betrayal.
"You've been
"And what we learned gave us hope. You've overcome betrayal. You've reconciled with those who hurt you. You understand the possibility of redemption."
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