âWhat are you talking about?â Alexis frowned.
âThe letter you claimed to be handwritten by my grandfather.
â
Alexisâ expression shifted, and with a surge of anger, he shot back, âKylerâs handwriting is known to all.
Donât pin this on me!â
âWhether Iâm pinning it on you, you know the truth, donât you?â
Mitchelâs voice dripped with sarcasm.
âIâm just giving you the opportunity to come clean.
â
âGo and verify it, then.
Youâre just hoping your dad dies, arenât you?â Alexis scowled.
Alexis couldnât stand it any longer.
Being set up by Mitchel was humiliating enough, and the fact that he hadnât snapped was a sign of his self-control.
He knew he still needed to support Henley and couldnât risk ruining the latterâs reputation.
Now he was facing such a bold confrontation!
Henley chimed in, âMitchel, our dad just made some mistakes.
Canât you cut him some slack and not fight him on everything? I know youâre not fond of me, but Iâve worked hard for what Iâve achieved, and itâs all been for the good of the company.
Shouldnât the companyâs well-being be our main concern?â
On the surface, Henley was trying to ease the tension between Mitchel and Alexis, but he was actually hinting that Mitchel was being petty and resentful.
Mitchel looked at them with a cold expression.
They were clearly ready to fight to the end.
He instructed, âBring Beuford here, please.
â
At the mention of Beuford, Alexisâ face went white.
An elderly gentleman with a distinguished mane of graying hair, adorned in a garment of dark cyan silk, made his entrance with Matteoâs assistance.
Alexisâ gaze sharpened upon recognizing the man.
It was indeed Beuford, Kylerâs personal butler, a figure of unwavering loyalty who had retreated to oversee Kylerâs grave at Mount Moriah following Kylerâs demise.
Alexis had nearly forgotten Beuford, half-convinced that the latter had passed away due to the years that had slipped by.
Yet, here Beuford stood, very much alive.
âYou ungrateful bastard! Why have you pulled Beuford away from his duties, disrupting his tranquility?â Alexisâ accusation against Mitchel betrayed a hint of a tremble in his voice, perhaps unaware of the emotion it carried.
Beuford had been a formidable presence in the Dixon household, one who had never bent the knee to Alexisâ authority.
Before Mitchel could interject, Beuford took the floor, his voice carrying the weight of years yet resolute.
âMr.
Alexis Dixon, this visit was of my own volition, not at Mr.
Mitchel Dixonâs urging.
â
The unease on Alexisâ face was palpable as he managed a strained smile.
âAnd what caused your presence here, Beuford?â
âI came upon learning of your recent endeavors within the Dixon Group, which brought to mind the final charge Mr.
Kyler Dixon entrusted to me,â Beuford stated, his voice gaining volume as he brushed his beard.
âHe warned me, âAlexis lacks stability.
In my absence, you must steer him on my behalf.
ââ
The authority with which Beuford spoke mirrored that of Kyler himself, a testament to the years spent under the patriarchâs influence.
Alexis, attempting to mask his mounting ire, diverted his gaze downward.
He was tormented by the notion that even beyond the grave, Kylerâs dominance shadowed his every step.
Witnessing Alexis wrestling with his inner turmoil, Mitchel seized the moment.
âDad, why not share with Beuford the letter you claimed to be handwritten by my grandfather?â