The conference room door opened.
Algerone stood in the doorway, silver-tipped cane gripped tight in his right hand. Dark circles shadowed his eyes. His suit bore subtle wrinkles from long travel. His eyes swept the room, taking in each face and each expression before locking onto mine. His pupils contracted as he registered my swollen lip and the poorly concealed bruising.
His jaw tightened. The knuckles on his cane whitened.
For three heartbeats, no one moved and no one spoke. The room held its collective breath.
"Everyone out," Algerone said quietly.
No one questioned the command. Chairs scraped against marble. Laptops closed with soft clicks. Within thirty seconds, the room emptied, leaving only Algerone and me.
He crossed to where I stood, each tap of his cane against the marble floor marking the rhythm of my pulse. His eyes never left my face as he closed the distance between us.
He took my chin in his hand, turning my face from side to side to examine the damage. His thumb brushed across my swollen lip, making me shiver. "You're hurt."
"I can still work."
"I didn't ask if you could." His hand rose, thumb brushing against my cheek. His touch was so gentle it nearly undid me. "All these years, Maxime. And this is the first time I've seen you show pain. Who did this to you?"
"It doesn't matter."
His eyes narrowed. "It matters to me."
I hesitated, weighing truth against protection. But Xander was his child, his blood. "I fell."
"Don't lie to me, Maxime."
I swallowed hard, tasting copper from my reopened lip. "I had an encounter at the cemetery."
His brow furrowed, surprise flickering across his face. "Cemetery? What were you doing at a cemetery?"
I hesitated, the years of secrecy hard to break. "Visiting Imogen's grave."
The silence that followed was absolute. Algerone went completely still, his hand frozen against my face. When he spoke, his voice was carefully controlled.
"You visit Imogen's grave."
"Yes."
"How long?" His eyes searched mine, looking for deception.
"Since she died."
He took a step back, processing this new information. "You've been visiting the grave of my children's mother for over twenty years without telling me?"
"Yes, Xander found me there."
Algerone paced a short line, his cane striking the marble floor hard enough to echo through the room. "So my child discovered you, a man they believe helped kill their mother, at her grave. And this is how they responded." He gestured at my injuries.
"I didn't fight back," I said quietly.
He stopped pacing, turning to face me. "Why do you go there, Maxime?"
The question I'd asked myself countless times. "Penance, perhaps. Respect. She deserved someone to remember her."
"And you appointed yourself her caretaker after keeping her from me."
"Yes."
