"No. It's not," Scrooge said, his voice filled with so much guilt and shame. "Truly, lass, if I could? I'd have been a better son, a better brother, and a better uncle. Maybe even have reached out to you sooner in the process if that was the way the cards fell. When I finally meet my Maker, I'll have a lot to answer for and no good answers to give."

He rose from his desk, walking over to where a now-cold teapot waited. He fitfully poured himself a cup, watching the tea fill the cup.

"I set out to gather a fortune for my family, to ensure my clan never had to go hungry again. I succeeded, but the cost..." He braced himself against the side table, a teardrop sliding down his beak to fall into the tea. "I've tried to do better, but it'll never be enough. I told Donald he didn't have to acknowledge me as his uncle given everything. He's happy as Donald Duck the musketeer, and I'll not ruin his life further if I can avoid it."