Tension At Prescott House
The next morning, the front door opened and Alexander stepped inside, moving slowly and carefully.
His face was a map of bruises: left eye still swollen and purple, lip split and stitched, cheekbone bandaged. He walked with a slight limp, one arm protectively around his cracked ribs.
Emery had been waiting anxiously in the living room since dawn. The moment she saw him, she rushed forward, her bump leading the way.
"Alexander..." Her voice was thick with worry. She reached him and gently touched the uninjured side of his face, eyes scanning every bruise and cut. "Oh my God... are you okay? Does it hurt a lot? Did the doctors say everything is fine now?"
Alexander gave her a tired, crooked smile. "I'm alright, Emery. Just sore. Cracked ribs and a mild concussion. Nothing life-threatening."
Emery didn't pull away. She continued fussing over him, her soft, caring nature taking over. "You look terrible. Come sit down. Do you need painkillers? Water? Should I get you something to eat?"
She gently took his arm to help him toward the couch, her touch careful and attentive.
Jesse stood a few feet away, watching the entire exchange. He knew that this was just Emery being her kind, nurturing self. She was like this with almost everyone. But seeing her worry so openly for Alexander, touching his face, guiding him so tenderly... it hit him harder than he expected.
His jaw clenched tightly. His hands curled into fists at his sides. A flush of heat climbed up his neck, turning his ears pink. His eyes stayed locked on Emery's face, unable to look away. A sharp, ugly twist of jealousy burned in his chest.
She's his wife on paper only, he reminded himself bitterly. And she's carrying my child.
Harper stood half-hidden near the hallway entrance, arms crossed. She watched Jesse like a hawk, noticing every small detail: the clenched jaw, the fisted hands, the way his ears turned pink, and how his gaze never left Emery's face for even a second. A dark, knowing glint entered her eyes.
Rebecca helped Alexander settle on the couch, her voice sharp with concern. "The police are still investigating. They said it was clearly a planned attack."
Alexander leaned back with a wince. "I'll be fine, Mom. Just need a few days of rest."
Emery hovered nearby, still looking anxious. "If you need anything, just tell me. I can make soup or-"
"I'm okay, Emery. Really," Alexander said gently, though his eyes flicked briefly toward Jesse, sensing the tension in the room.
Jesse remained silent, jaw still tight, struggling to keep his emotions in check.
Harper's lips curved into a very small, satisfied smirk as she continued observing her brother.
She had seen enough.
The pieces were starting to click together in her mind.
×××××××
Emery stood in the kitchen, stirring a pot of chicken soup on the stove. The rich aroma filled the air as she worked quietly, making it specially for Alexander who was resting upstairs. Her bump pressed gently against the counter as she moved.
The soft sound of footsteps made her turn around.
Jesse walked in, looking tired but restless. He stopped a few steps away, eyes immediately softening when they landed on her.
"Jesse," she said gently, "do you need something?"
He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Just thirsty."
Emery nodded and turned back to the stove, but not before grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it with cold water for him. She handed it over without a word.
Jesse took the glass, murmuring a quiet "thank you," and leaned against the kitchen island, arms crossed over his chest as he watched her.
After a moment, Emery spoke again, her voice soft with concern. "Did the police find something about the attackers?"
Jesse exhaled slowly. "No. They're still looking. They have some footage, but the men were masked and it's not clear yet."
Emery nodded, stirring the soup a little slower. "This is serious, Jesse."
"I know," he replied, voice heavy. "I'm so worried. Who could do this? Alexander doesn't have that kind of enemies. At least... not that we know of."
Silence settled between them. The only sound was the gentle bubbling of the soup and the faint clink of the spoon against the pot.
After a long pause, Jesse spoke again, quieter this time.
"Emery?"
"Yeah?" She glanced over her shoulder at him.
He stared at her for a moment, then let out a soft, almost helpless breath.
"I'm so jealous."
Emery turned fully to face him, surprised. "What?"
Jesse set the glass down on the island and ran a hand through his dark hair, looking vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.
"I know it's stupid," he admitted, voice low and honest. "I know you're just being kind. You've always been like this... caring for everyone, even when they don't deserve it. But seeing you worry about him... fussing over him, touching his face like that... it killed me a little."
He stepped closer, stopping just a foot away from her.
"I hate that he gets to be called your husband. I hate that you're up here making soup for him. I hate that I have to stand here and pretend it doesn't tear me apart inside." His voice cracked slightly. "I'm so jealous, Emery. And I know I have no right to be... but I can't help it."
Emery's stormy eyes softened. She looked at him for a long moment, the spoon forgotten in her hand.
"Jesse..." she whispered.
He gave her a small, crooked smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You don't have to say anything. I just... needed to tell you the truth. I'm trying so hard to be okay with all of this, but seeing you care for him like that... it reminds me of everything I lost because I was a coward."
Emery's expression turned tender. She reached out and gently touched his arm, her fingers lingering there.
"You're not a coward anymore," she said softly. "You've been protecting me every single day since this mess started."
Jesse looked down at her hand on his arm, then back up at her face. The kitchen felt smaller, warmer, the air between them thick with unspoken feelings.
For a few heartbeats, neither of them moved. Jesse's hand slowly came up to cover hers on his arm, his thumb brushing gently over her knuckles.
"Thank you for the soup," he murmured, even though it wasn't for him.
Emery smiled, small and sweet. "You're welcome."
They stayed like that, hearts heavy but connected, until the sound of footsteps upstairs reminded them both where they were.
Jesse reluctantly let go of her hand and stepped back.
"I'll let you finish," he said softly. "Call me if you need anything."
Emery nodded, watching him leave the kitchen with a quiet ache in her chest.
Even in the middle of all the chaos, these small, stolen moments with him still felt like home.
×××××××
Harper was pacing furiously in her old bedroom at the Prescott house, phone pressed tightly to her ear. The moment Percy answered, she exploded.
"You have no right to keep my daughter from me, Percy! Who the hell do you think you are?!"
Percy's voice came through like thunder, twice as loud and far more venomous.
"Who do I think I am? I'm the father who actually gives a shit about our child! You left Kitty alone on the bed while you were blasting music and scrolling through your damn phone like a brainless teenager! She fell and hit her head, Harper! She was bleeding!"
Harper screamed back, voice shrill. "It was one second! Babies fall all the time! You're blowing this way out of proportion just so you can control me!"
"One second?" Percy roared, his voice cracking with rage.
"One second is all it takes to lose a child, you selfish bitch!
And when my mother tried to talk some sense into you, you slapped her across the face!
My daughter's mother slapped my mother because she dared to call you out on your neglect!
You're not a mother, Harper. You're a spoiled, entitled child who happened to give birth! "
Harper's breathing was ragged. "Don't you dare speak to me like that! I carried her for nine months! I went through labor! She's my daughter too!"
"Your daughter?" Percy laughed bitterly, the sound ugly and cold.
"You don't even know what time she wakes up in the morning.
You don't know her favorite toy. You don't change her diapers without complaining.
The only thing you do is hand her off to nannies and your mother so you can gossip and stir drama.
I'm done, Harper. I'm filing for full custody. "
Harper's voice rose to a hysterical pitch. "You wouldn't dare! I'll ruin you! I'll tell everyone what a controlling, abusive asshole you are!"
"Abusive?" Percy shouted back, even louder.
"The only person abusing anyone here is you!
You abuse my patience, you abuse your own mother, and worst of all, you emotionally neglect our daughter every single day!
Kitty deserves better than a mother who sees her as an accessory.
She deserves a parent who actually puts her first. And that parent is going to be me. "
"You're not taking my baby away from me!" Harper screamed, tears of rage streaming down her face. "I'll fight you in court! I'll drag your name through the mud!"
"Go ahead," Percy snarled, his voice ice-cold and final.
"Drag my name. But I have videos, Harper.
I have nanny cam footage of you ignoring her cries for hours.
I have messages where you tell your friends you regret becoming a mother.
I have everything. So bring it on. Because when I'm finished with you, the only thing you'll have left is regret. "
Harper was shaking with fury. "I hate you. I fucking hate you, Percy!"
"The feeling is mutual," he shot back. "Stay away from my daughter until you grow the fuck up. And don't even think about showing up at the house. I'll have the locks changed by tonight."
He hung up before she could respond.
Harper stared at her phone, chest heaving, face red and wet with angry tears.
She screamed and threw the phone across the room, where it shattered against the wall.
Downstairs, the sound echoed faintly.
Harper stood there, breathing hard, fists clenched so tight her nails dug into her palms.
Percy had never spoken to her like that before.
And the worst part?
Deep down, she knew he was right.
But she would never admit it.
×××××××