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It was already late enough for dinner by the time Alex’s car turned onto the long road leading to the Vance estate.

He hadn’t been back in a while, but as the ancestral home gradually came into view, Alex was struck by how little seemed to have changed.

The old oak tree still took up an unreasonable amount of the front lawn, its branches stretching toward the house. Warm light glowed behind the windows, illuminating portions of the stone path Alex used to race across as a child. There were more cracks between those stones now, though he supposed that was only fair.

He wasn’t the same age either.

By the time Alex stepped out of the car, the farm had mostly settled for the night. Somewhere beyond the house, cattle occasionally broke the quiet, and the faint smell of grass and livestock carried on the evening air.

Familiar.

That was probably the simplest way to describe it.

After days of waking up to phone calls, meetings, and yet another headline dissecting his failed relationship, it was strangely comforting to arrive somewhere that didn’t seem to care about any of it.

Here, he wasn’t Alexander Vance, CEO of Vance Holdings.

He was just Alex coming home late for dinner.

Arf... Arf... Arf...

Mr. Tomas Reyes, the Vance household’s longtime steward, had difficulty opening the front door with three excited Shih Tzus crowding around his feet.

The senior dogs immediately rushed toward Alex, tails wagging furiously.

"Yes, yes. I missed you too."

Apparently satisfied with that acknowledgment and the treats he brought, the three finally let him inside.

"Sir Alex."

"Has Father eaten?"

"Not that I know of."

Alex gave a small nod.

"Please set the table for two."

"Of course, sir."

In the study, Alejandro Vance examined a velvet box that had arrived less than an hour earlier.

It was addressed to him personally.

He hadn’t expected anything unusual.

Until he opened it.

Nestled inside the dark velvet lay the Vance family engagement ring.

The heirloom.

Returned.

His fingers remained against the edge of the box for several long seconds.

He didn’t need an explanation.

He already knew.

A soft knock sounded against the open study door.

"Dad..."

Alejandro slowly lifted his eyes.

Alexander stood quietly in the doorway.

Neither spoke immediately.

The sight of his son brought with it a familiar pang of guilt. Alejandro had agreed to the engagement because he’d believed it would provide stability for both families. He had never imagined Alexander would one day be left standing outside the Marriage Bureau while the entire city watched.

Finally, Alejandro closed the box.

"...It’s over?"

Alex nodded once.

"It’s over."

Alejandro secured the ring inside the velvet box before placing it safely inside his desk.

No dramatic speeches, no questions about whose fault it was.

Just a father looking at his son.

And understanding.

Alejandro walked over and rested a hand on Alex’s shoulder.

"I’m sorry."

That simple sentence nearly undid him.

Alex lowered his eyes.

"I thought I could make it work."

"I know."

"I really did."

"I believe you."

His father pulled him into a brief embrace.

Alex didn’t resist.

He simply stood there for a moment longer than he normally would have.

Because no matter how old a son became, there were still days when coming home made carrying everything a little easier.

Alejandro eventually pulled back and studied his son.

"Is there anything I can do?"

Alex lowered his eyes.

His father hadn’t asked what happened.

He hadn’t asked whose fault it was, whether Dominic had tried to explain himself, or even what Alex planned to do next.

Just that.

Alex shook his head. "I don’t think so."

Alejandro hesitated. "Are you angry with me?"

That caught him off guard.

"For what?"

"For agreeing to the engagement. For going along with your grandfather when he decided Dominic was good for you."

"Dad."

"It’s a fair question."

Alex sighed.

"No. I’m not angry with you."

Alejandro nodded, apparently willing to accept that answer.

"All right."

Then he glanced toward the windows.

"But if you’re angry at someone else, we have several hectares of land."

Alex stared at him.

"What?"

"Go outside. Shout. Scream. Break something."

"Are you seriously encouraging me to destroy property?"

"Preferably something we don’t need."

Despite himself, Alex laughed.

Alejandro smiled faintly.

"No one’s going to judge you here, son. And unless you make an extraordinary amount of noise, no one’s going to hear you either."

Alex looked toward the darkened grounds.

He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had actually permitted him to be angry.

At the office, anger had to remain controlled.

In front of the Board, it had to become strategy.

At the condo, there was always another unit somewhere below him and another person who might hear something they shouldn’t.

Here...

Well.

Apparently, they had several hectares.

Twenty minutes later, Alex stood behind one of the utility sheds with an axe in his hands.

There was a pile of firewood nearby that one of the groundskeepers had already been planning to split.

Perfect.

At least this way, his emotional breakdown could be productive.

Alex positioned a piece of wood on the chopping block, tightened both hands around the handle, and swung.

The axe came down several inches to the left and buried itself in the chopping block.

Alex stared at it.

Right.

CEO, not lumberjack.

He yanked the blade free, adjusted his stance, and tried again.

This time, he actually hit the wood, although so close to the edge that a chunk went flying while the rest remained stubbornly intact.

Better.

By the next few attempts, Alex had at least figured out where his feet were supposed to go and how not to fight the weight of the axe. His swings gradually stopped feeling like an excellent way to injure himself and started developing something resembling a rhythm.

Lift. Aim. Swing.

Crack.

There.

Alex repositioned the wood.

Crack.

That was almost satisfying.

For a while, he treated the task exactly like everything else in his life. He concentrated on his footing, corrected the angle whenever the blade landed badly, and tried to make each swing more efficient than the last.

Then he remembered the Marriage Bureau.

The axe came down harder.

CRACK!

The log split straight through the center.

Dominic hadn’t even shown up.

Alex grabbed another piece.

CRACK!

He’d waited there until closing.

Another.

CRACK!

While Dominic had been somewhere else with Andrew.

The next log hit the block.

Two years.

Two fucking years.

Alex’s grip tightened.

How many meetings had he moved because Dominic needed him?

CRACK!

How many times had he dropped whatever he was doing because there was some emergency at Sebastian Group that apparently only Alexander Vance could solve?

CRACK!

How many explanations had he accepted because trusting the man he intended to marry had seemed like the reasonable thing to do?

The axe came down with enough force to send both halves tumbling from the block.

Alex barely noticed.

There was always an explanation.

Dominic was busy.

Dominic was under pressure.

Dominic would make it up to him later.

And Alex, like an idiot, had believed him.

CRACK!

Another log split.

Because why wouldn’t he?

CRACK!

They were supposed to get married.

CRACK!

He had loved him.

The sound seemed impossibly loud in the quiet behind the sheds.

Alex stood there breathing hard, staring at the two halves of wood lying at his feet.

That one had gone straight through.

By the time he finally lowered the axe, his shirt was sticking to his back, and his arms were trembling from exertion. He planted the head against the ground and leaned on the handle while he caught his breath.

Well.

That had helped considerably more than shouting.

Alex sat down on one of the uncut logs and stayed there beneath the open night sky, letting his breathing slowly return to normal.

Then his eyes started burning.

He lowered his head.

"Oh, come on."

Apparently, his dignity had survived being abandoned at the Marriage Bureau only to lose the battle against a pile of firewood.

A laugh escaped him, although it came out considerably less steady than he’d intended.

Then the first tear slipped free.

Alex didn’t wipe it away.

Another followed, and suddenly he was too exhausted to pretend this was anything other than what it was.

He was angry enough that part of him wanted to pick the axe back up. He was humiliated that so many people had watched him wait for a man who had apparently never intended to come, and beneath all of that was the part he had been avoiding since yesterday.

He was heartbroken.

God, he was tired.

Alex rubbed both hands over his face but made no effort to stand.

Nobody here needed reassuring.

No employees watching their CEO.

No directors wondering whether Alexander Vance was still capable of running the company.

No cameras waiting to turn his expression into tomorrow morning’s headline.

So for once, Alex let himself sit there and feel every miserable bit of it without worrying about what his face looked like or who might see.

Eventually, he wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand and looked at the considerably larger pile of split wood beside him.

Well.

At least someone would be pleased.

He’d probably just saved the groundskeepers half a morning’s work.

For the first time in days, Alex smiled without having to make himself do it.

Maybe coming home really had been a good idea.

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