The ride back to the mansion was silent, the weight of the day's revelations pressing down on us. Alexander's grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles white with the pressure. I glanced at him, the tension between us almost palpable.
"Alexander," I began softly, my voice trembling. "How do we move forward from this?"
He didn't respond immediately, his jaw clenched as he stared at the road ahead. When he finally spoke, his voice was cold and filled with pain. "Move forward? Your father was involved in my father's death. I will never forgive him for that."
Tears welled up in my eyes, the weight of his words crushing me. "But he was coerced, Alexander. He didn't have a choice."
"He had a choice, Eleanor. He chose to protect his interests over my father's life. That's something I can't forgive," Alexander said, his voice unwavering.
