The tension in the Harper household was palpable from the moment Alexander walked through the door that evening. Vanessa had been in the kitchen, her hands deep in soapy dishwater, when she heard the familiar creak of the front door. She stiffened instinctively, her lips tightening into a thin line as the sound of his footsteps filled the small house.


    “Alex,” she called out, keeping her tone neutral. It was always better to gauge his mood before engaging.


    He appeared in the doorway, loosening his tie as he leaned heavily against the frame. His once-pristine navy suit now looked cheap in the harsh overhead light, the fabric crumpled from what must have been another grueling day at whatever temporary consulting job he’d managed to scrape together.


    “Vanessa,” he replied, his voice as tired as his appearance. He gestured vaguely toward the kitchen table, where a plate of cookies sat untouched. “What’s all this?”


    “I thought the kids could use a little comfort,” she said briskly, turning back to the dishes. “Not that it matters. They barely touched them.”


    Alexander sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he stepped into the room. “Vanessa, I—”


    “Don’t,” she interrupted sharply, spinning around to face him. Her hazel eyes, once so warm and inviting, now burned with frustration. “Don’t come in here with another half-hearted excuse. Do you even realize how hard this has been on them? On me?”


    His jaw tightened, but he said nothing. She threw the dishtowel onto the counter, her voice rising. “We were your family, Alex! Your responsibility! And you gambled it all away on some get-rich-quick schemes and ‘sure things.’”


    “I didn’t gamble it away,” he shot back, his voice low but firm. “I took risks. Risks that should have paid off, if not for—”


    “Spare me the Wall Street jargon,” she snapped. “All I know is that we went from a penthouse on Fifth Avenue to this... this box in Atlanta. You’ve humiliated us!”Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    He flinched at her words but quickly recovered. “And you think I’m not humiliated, Vanessa? Do you think I wanted this? To see my name dragged through the mud, to be laughed out of every boardroom in Manhattan?”


    “Maybe if you had thought of us instead of your ego, we wouldn’t be here!”


    The silence that followed was heavy, the kind that only years of unspoken resentment could create. Alexander finally broke it, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “I know I messed up. But I’m trying, Vanessa. I’m trying to fix it.”


    Her shoulders sagged as she let out a bitter laugh. “Fix it? Like you fixed our marriage? Or like you fixed our reputation?”


    He didn’t respond. He couldn’t.


    <hr>


    Vanessa Harper had always been the epitome of Upper East Side grace—a socialite with a sharp wit and a closet full of couture. But in Atlanta, none of that mattered. Here, she was just another single mother trying to keep her family afloat.


    She had sold the last of her designer handbags months ago, using the money to pay for the modest rental house and keep the utilities on. She’d even taken a part-time job at a local boutique, folding jeans and smiling politely at customers who had no idea she used to own a closet full of them.


    Every day felt like a battle to maintain some semblance of dignity, especially in front of her children. She hated that they had to see her like this—stripped of her armor, struggling to make ends meet. But more than that, she hated Alexander for putting them in this position.


    Vanessa had planned a family dinner—a chance to sit down together and try to rebuild what little connection they had left. But as the evening wore on, the tension between her and Alexander became impossible to ignore.


    “Did you even bother to call the twins before they got here?” she asked, her voice low but sharp.


    “I’ve been a little busy trying to avoid jail time, Vanessa,” he replied, pouring himself a glass of water.


    “And I’ve been busy picking up the pieces of the mess you left behind!”


    Lexi and Jordan, sitting silently at the small dining table, exchanged glances. This wasn’t new to them. Their parents’ fights had been a regular occurrence even before the scandal. But now, the stakes were higher, and the wounds deeper.


    “I’m not hungry,” Lexi said abruptly, pushing her chair back.


    “Me neither,” Jordan added, following his sister out of the room.


    As their footsteps faded down the hall, Vanessa sank into her chair, her head in her hands. Alexander sat across from her, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between them.


    For a moment, they were just two broken people, sitting in a broken home, trying to figure out how to fix something that might never be whole again.