Chapter 142 Sunday Approaching
Chapter 142 Sunday Approaching
The week kept moving whether anyone felt ready or not.
Monday arrived gray and cold, wrapped in rain that clung stubbornly to the city windows. By Tuesday, the clouds broke just enough for sunlight to spill through the apartment kitchen while Elena packed Leo’s lunch beside an open laptop.
Work emails glowed across the screen.
Three unread messages from Marcus.
Two from accounting.
One from Jessica, strangely polite now that Elena technically outranked her.
Elena ignored that one first.
Leo sat at the table swinging his legs while peeling the cheese off his sandwich with disturbing concentration.
“You’re dismantling it,” Elena observed.
“I’m improving it.”
“That’s not how sandwiches work.”
“It is for me.”
Alexander walked in halfway through the conversation adjusting his cufflinks.
“Terrorism before eight in the morning,” he muttered.
Leo gasped. “Dad said a bad word.”
“I absolutely did not.”
“It sounded expensive.”
Elena snorted into her coffee.
Alexander pointed at Leo. “Shoes.”
“I had them yesterday.”
“That’s generally how ownership works.”
Leo slid off the chair dramatically.
“I think growing up is very stressful.”
“You’re three,” Elena reminded him.
“That’s why.”
He disappeared down the hallway.
Alexander watched him go before looking at Elena.
“You slept late again.”
She kept typing. “I slept.”
“For four hours.”
“That technically counts.”
“It barely counts medically.”
“I’m alive.”
Alexander leaned one hip against the counter, studying her quietly for a second.
“You’ve been tense since the phone call with your father.”
Elena finally looked up.
Not defensive.
Just honest.
“I know.”
“You don’t have to manage this alone.”
“I’m aware.”
“Are you?”
That softened her expression immediately.
Alexander wasn’t accusing her.
He just knew her too well now.
Elena leaned back slightly in her chair.
“It’s strange,” she admitted. “We barely talk. But now suddenly he’s going to sit across from your entire family while they ask for my hand in marriage like we’re in some historical drama.”
Alexander’s mouth twitched faintly.
“I can wear something medieval if that helps.”
“It absolutely would not help.”
“I could grow a beard.”
“You can barely commit to weekend stubble.”
“That’s cruel.”
“It’s accurate.”
He reached over and closed her laptop halfway before she could stop him.
“Breakfast first.”
“Alexander—”
“Breakfast,” he repeated calmly.
Not controlling.
Not harsh.
Just steady enough that she actually stopped.
That still surprised her sometimes.
Not the authority.
The care behind it.
Before she could answer, Leo came running back wearing mismatched socks and holding one shoe triumphantly over his head.
“FOUND IT!”
Alexander sighed softly toward the ceiling.
“One day,” he muttered, “we’ll locate both at the same time.”
The school drop off line moved slowly that morning.
Parents carrying coffee.
Children dragging backpacks almost their own size.
Leo sat in the backseat explaining something deeply important about dinosaur tails while Elena answered work emails beside him.
Alexander listened with the exhausted patience of a man fully committed to fatherhood.
“So if the dinosaur had spikes here”—Leo twisted awkwardly in his seat trying to demonstrate—“then another dinosaur couldn’t bite his butt.”
“Important tactical advantage,” Alexander agreed.
“Exactly.”
Elena smiled faintly without looking up from her phone.
Then Leo suddenly gasped.
“Sophie got new shoes.”
Neither adult understood the emotional importance of this statement.
Apparently Leo did.
“She said they light up.”
Alexander nodded gravely. “That’s serious technology.”
“Can I get shoes that light up?”
“You already lose regular shoes.”
“That's not the same.”
Elena laughed quietly under her breath.
By the time they reached the school doors, Leo had fully shifted emotional priorities from dinosaurs to illuminated footwear.
Preschool politics were ruthless.
He hugged Elena first.
Then Alexander.
Then immediately spotted another child and forgot they existed.
Alexander watched him disappear inside.
“He’s getting taller.”
Elena glanced toward the classroom door automatically.
“He’s getting louder.”
“That too.”
For a second they stayed standing there together while parents moved around them.
Normal morning.
Normal life.
And somehow that still felt precious.
Alexander reached for her hand briefly.
“You okay?”
Elena knew what he really meant.
Sunday.
Marcus.
Family.
Everything changing again.
She exhaled softly.
“Not yet,” she admitted.
“Fair.”
He squeezed her fingers once.
“Still coming home to me afterward.”
That hit her quietly.
Not dramatic.
Just true.
And truth sometimes landed harder.
Thorne Empire had already shifted around since Alexander and Victoria’s return.
But people moved differently now.
Meetings started on time again.
Departments responded faster.
Executives stopped trying to impress Richard through fear and started preparing properly because Victoria noticed details and Alexander asked questions people couldn’t bluff through.
The company breathed differently.
Victoria stood near the conference room windows reviewing numbers when Janna stepped in carrying a folder.
Former assistant.
Now moved under another executive branch after Victoria’s promotion.
Still hovering occasionally out of habit.
“You skipped lunch again,” Janna observed.
Victoria signed another page without looking up. “Interesting accusation.”
“It’s one-thirty.”
“Time is subjective.”
“That’s not how clocks work.”
Victoria finally glanced at her.
Janna smiled immediately.
“There she is.”
Victoria narrowed her eyes faintly. “You’re becoming irritatingly comfortable.”
“You missed me.”
“I tolerated you successfully.”
“Same thing.”
Janna placed the folder down.
Then hesitated.
“You seem happier.”
Victoria went still for half a second.
Subtle enough most people wouldn’t catch it.
Janna did.
Victoria looked back at the skyline beyond the glass.
“I’m busier,” she corrected.
But neither of them fully believed that answer.
Across the building, Alexander ended a finance call just as his phone buzzed.
Elena.
He answered immediately.
“You alive?”
“Barely,” she sighed dramatically through the speaker.
“That bad?”
“One client used the phrase ‘synergy alignment’ five times in one meeting.”
Alexander grimaced. “My condolences.”
“I may never recover.”
That earned the smallest laugh from him.
He leaned back in his chair slightly, exhaustion easing around the edges.
“How’s your day?”
“Stable.”
“That sounds corporate.”
“It is corporate.”
“You’re becoming one of them again.”
“I was always one of them.”
“No,” Elena corrected softly. “You were always better than them.”
The silence after that shifted.
Warmer.
Alexander looked down briefly at the papers scattered across his desk.
Then quieter:
“How nervous are you?”
Straight to it.
Elena sighed softly on the other end.
“Enough to think about canceling civilization.”
“That’s a moderate level.”
“Alexander.”
“You’ll be okay.”
“I know.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“I’m trying to imagine my father sitting across from your father without someone accidentally starting a war.”
Alexander rubbed his forehead lightly.
“That is statistically possible.”
“Helpful.”
“But.”
His voice softened slightly.
“My father’s trying now.”
Elena went quiet.
Because she knew that too.
And maybe that was the strangest part of all this.
Not the wedding.
Not the family meetings.
Not even the future unfolding so quickly.
It was watching Richard Thorne learn humility in real time.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Honestly.
Alexander glanced toward the office windows.
“Hey.”
“Hmm?”
“No matter how Sunday goes…” He paused briefly. “You’re already my family.”
The line went quiet for one long second.
Then Elena breathed out softly.
“That was smooth.”
“I’m devastatingly charming.”
“You’re a little charming.”
“I’ll take little.”
Her laughter reached him softly through the speaker.
And somehow—
in the middle of meetings and schedules and unfinished work—
that sound still felt like home.
Slowly Sunday's Approaching.