I felt the air shift as Uncle Dubois stepped into the doorway. Though he filled the frame with his imposing presence, he stopped abruptly at the threshold, not entering the room.
His eyes fixed on Mrs. Dubois's unconscious form, something raw and pained flashing across his face before vanishing behind a mask of control. Felix hovered anxiously behind him, clearly confused by his uncle's hesitation.
"Uncle, please come in," Felix said, gesturing toward the bed.
Uncle Dubois shook his head once. "I'll wait outside."
Alistair's head snapped up at the sound of his voice. The color drained from his face as he stood, his chair scraping against the floor.
"You," he whispered, the word filled with a mixture of rage and fear.
Uncle Dubois met his gaze steadily. "Alistair."
The tension between them crackled like electricity. I glanced at Arthur, whose jaw had tightened, sensing the undercurrents of decades-old conflict.
"Why are you here?" Alistair demanded, his voice shaking.
