Joseph Lloyd's eyes were bloodshot, enduring the torment of illness along with the piercing pain of losing his loved ones over the years. He looked at Ignatius Leclair and muttered, "So, you've known about this all along. I thought I was the only one who knew."
Joseph let out a low, bitter laugh, his tears flowing uncontrollably. His words came out fragmented and incoherent: "When Alanna passed away, I was by her side. She begged me to promise her to keep this secret forever. She said she didn't want your life to be consumed by hate."
Ignatius Leclair's face turned an unusual shade of pale as he spoke in a low and somber tone, "Uncle Lloyd, let me take you out. Let's pretend you were never here today."
Leaning on his adopted son's arm, Joseph Lloyd nodded shakily. His complexion was ashen, his face worn by despair and disease. He now seemed ten years older, like an elderly man nearing the end of his days, unable even to recognize the way out.
