Chapter Four-Sunday Dinner-Atlas
2201 Words
Sunday dinners at the Reed family home had always been complicated.
Not because the food wasn’t good.
It was.
Not because his mother wasn’t happy to see him.
She always was.
And not because Atlas didn’t love his family.
He did.
They were simply exhausting.
Especially his father.
Atlas pulled into the long driveway shortly after seven in the evening.
The Reed family home sat behind tall iron gates, surrounded by perfectly maintained gardens and enough security cameras to make anyone feel like they were entering a government facility.
Atlas parked his black SUV and stepped out.
He adjusted the sleeves of his black shirt, revealing the tattoos covering his arms.
Before he could even reach the front door, it opened.
His mother stood there.
“There you are!”
Atlas barely had time to smile before she pulled him into a hug.
“Hi, Mom.”
“You’ve gotten thinner.”
“I’m fine.”
“You always say that.”
“I’m still alive.”
She pulled away and looked him over.
“Are you eating?”
“Yes.”
“Properly?”
“Yes.”
She narrowed her eyes.
Atlas sighed.
“Mom.”
“Come inside.”
He laughed quietly.
“Good to see you too.”
She grabbed his arm and pulled him inside.
The familiar warmth of the house immediately surrounded him.
His brother was already in the living room.
“Look who finally decided to visit.”
Atlas looked at him.
“Look who still lives here.”
His brother laughed.
“Still an asshole.”
“Still unemployed?”
“I’m not unemployed.”
“Good for you.”
They shook hands before his brother pulled him into a brief hug.
Atlas glanced around.
“Where’s Dad?”
“Study.”
“Of course.”
His brother smirked.
“Good luck.”
Atlas looked at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re smiling.”
“I’m always smiling.”
“No, you’re not.”
His brother laughed.
“Go say hello to Dad.”
Atlas sighed.
“Fine.”
He walked toward the study.
He knocked once before opening the door.
His father looked up from the documents on his desk.
“Atlas.”
“Dad.”
His father stood.
They shook hands.
No hug.
They had never been that kind of father and son.
“You’re late.”
“I’m seven minutes late.”
“You were supposed to arrive at seven.”
“It’s seven-oh-seven.”
His father gave him a look.
Atlas almost smiled.
“Good to see you too.”
His father nodded.
“Come. Dinner is ready.”
And just like that, the family gathered around the long dining table.
His mother sat at one end.
His father at the other.
His brother beside him.
Atlas took his usual seat.
For the first few minutes, dinner was peaceful.
His mother talked about the garden.
His brother talked about some event he had attended.
Atlas listened.
Then his father finally spoke.
“How is Reed Corporation doing?”
There it was.
Business.
His father’s favorite subject.
Atlas placed his fork down.
“Good.”
“That’s not a report.”
“You didn’t ask for a report.”
His father stared at him.
His brother looked down at his plate, clearly trying not to laugh.
Atlas continued eating.
“We’re expanding.”
“Where?”
“New York is the immediate focus.”
His father nodded.
“The existing club?”
“Still performing well.”
“And the new property?”
“We’re negotiating.”
His father leaned back.
“What kind of property?”
“Casino and entertainment complex.”
His mother’s expression changed slightly.
“Another casino?”
Atlas nodded.
“Yes.”
His father didn’t look particularly pleased.
He never did when Atlas talked about the nightlife side of the company.
That had always been the strange thing about his father.
He complained about the clubs.
He complained about the casinos.
He complained about the gambling.
He complained about the parties.
He complained about the people Atlas associated with.
But he never complained about the money.
Not once.
Because the numbers were undeniable.
Reed Corporation had been built by their father around real estate, hotels, restaurants, luxury properties, and traditional hospitality.
Atlas had taken that foundation and pushed it into another world.
Nightlife.
Entertainment.
Casinos.
Luxury clubs.
Private venues.
High-end resorts.
He had expanded the company’s reach across the country.
And the money followed.
A lot of money.
His father cleared his throat.
“Your New York investors.”
Atlas nodded.
“I met with them two days ago.”
“At the club?”
“Yes.”
His father frowned.
“You couldn’t have met them in an office?”
“They wanted to see the property.”
“They wanted to drink.”
Atlas looked at him.
“They were investors, Dad.”
“They were drinking.”
“They were still investors.”
His brother coughed into his glass.
His mother looked between them.
Atlas continued.
“They’re interested in the expansion.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
His father gave him a look.
“Atlas.”
“We’re talking about a significant investment.”
“How significant?”
Atlas told him.
His father’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
“That’s substantial.”
“I know.”
“And you’re confident?”
“Yes.”
“What makes this club different from the existing one?”
Atlas leaned back.
“It’s larger.”
“How much larger?”
“Almost twice the size.”
His father listened carefully.
“Private gaming floor.”
“Casino?”
“Yes.”
“Hotel attached?”
“Not directly.”
Atlas took a sip of water.
“The hotel will be a separate luxury property connected through a private access route. Restaurants, private suites, entertainment spaces, conference facilities.”
His father nodded slowly.
“And another casino?”
“Eventually.”
His father looked at him.
“You’re building an empire.”
Atlas shrugged.
“I’m expanding a business.”
His brother smiled.
“That’s what he calls an empire.”
Atlas looked at him.
“Do you want to pay my taxes?”
“No.”
“Then let me call it whatever I want.”
His mother laughed.
“Both of you.”
The conversation continued.
Numbers.
Expansion.
Investors.
Licensing.
Construction.
Security.
Hotels.
Atlas answered every question without hesitation.
His father knew one thing about him.
Atlas might look reckless.
He might spend nights inside clubs.
He might have a reputation that followed him everywhere.
But when it came to business, Atlas was serious.
He knew his numbers.
He knew his markets.
He knew his investors.
He knew exactly how much money was coming in and where every dollar was going.
That was why his father couldn’t dismiss him.
Eventually, his mother looked across the table.
“Atlas.”
He looked up.
“Yes?”
“You’re barely eating.”
“I’m eating.”
“You’ve had three bites.”
“I’ve had four.”
His brother laughed.
“She caught you.”
Atlas ignored him.
His mother sighed.
“You need to take care of yourself.”
“I do.”
“And you need someone to take care of you.”
Atlas stopped.
His brother immediately looked interested.
His father continued eating as if this conversation had nothing to do with him.
Atlas looked at his mother.
“Mom.”
“What?”
“We’ve had this conversation.”
“And we’ll keep having it.”
“I’m not looking for anyone.”
“You don’t have to look.”
“I’m not interested.”
“You can’t stay alone forever.”
“Watch me.”
His mother sighed.
“You’re impossible.”
“I know.”
She shook her head.
Then her eyes moved down his arms.
She frowned.
“Wait.”
Atlas looked at her.
“What?”
“Did you get another tattoo?”
He blinked.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
She stared at his arms.
“I don’t remember you having this many.”
Atlas looked down.
The tattoos were exactly where they had always been.
“Mom, it’s the same amount of tattoos I’ve always had.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I swear there are more.”
“There aren’t.”
His brother leaned closer.
“Actually, I think she might be right.”
Atlas looked at him.
“Don’t encourage her.”
His mother reached for his arm.
“When did you get this one?”
“I’ve had it for years.”
She stared at it.
“Years?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t remember it.”
“That’s because you don’t inspect my arms every time you see me.”
His mother frowned.
“I should.”
Atlas laughed.
His brother shook his head.
“This family is insane.”
Atlas picked up his fork.
“Finally, someone admits it.”
His mother smiled despite herself.
But the conversation shifted again when his father spoke.
“About the nightlife division.”
Atlas looked at him.
“What about it?”
“I still don’t like the direction it’s taking.”
Atlas placed his fork down.
Of course.
Here we go.
His father folded his hands on the table.
“The company was built on hospitality.”
“It still is.”
“Hotels.”
“Yes.”
“Restaurants.”
“Yes.”
“Real estate.”
“Yes.”
“Not casinos and clubs.”
Atlas stared at him.
“Dad.”
His father waited.
“You built hotels because people needed somewhere to sleep.”
His father said nothing.
“You built restaurants because people needed somewhere to eat.”
Still nothing.
“I built clubs because people want somewhere to go.”
His father’s jaw tightened.
“And casinos?”
“People gamble.”
“That doesn’t make it respectable.”
Atlas leaned back.
“Neither does everything you did to build this company.”
The table went silent.
His brother stopped eating.
His mother looked at Atlas.
His father stared at him.
Atlas didn’t move.
He wasn’t going to apologize.
Not for telling the truth.
His father had always loved presenting himself as the respectable businessman.
The polished executive.
The family man.
The man who built everything honestly.
Maybe some of it was true.
But Atlas knew better.
Business wasn’t clean.
It never had been.
Money moved through deals.
People made compromises.
Competitors were pushed aside.
Contracts were negotiated aggressively.
Influence mattered.
Connections mattered.
Reputation mattered.
And sometimes the line between legal and questionable wasn’t nearly as thick as people pretended it was.
Atlas wasn’t pretending to be a saint.
He had never claimed to be one.
He ran clubs.
Casinos.
Hotels.
Entertainment properties.
He dealt with people who lived in worlds his father pretended didn’t exist.
But Atlas knew exactly what he was doing.
And unlike his father, he wasn’t going to sit at the dinner table and pretend the Reed empire had been built by angels.
His father finally spoke.
“Watch your tone.”
Atlas held his gaze.
“I’m not disrespecting you.”
“You are challenging me.”
“I’m correcting you.”
His brother quietly whispered,
“Oh, this is going well.”
Their mother shot him a warning look.
“Enough.”
Atlas exhaled.
His father picked up his glass.
“You’re doing well.”
Atlas paused.
His father continued.
“I don’t like everything you do.”
“I know.”
“But the company is growing.”
Atlas nodded.
“And you’re making money.”
“I know.”
His father looked at him.
“That’s why I tolerate the rest.”
Atlas almost laughed.
“Tolerate?”
His father didn’t answer.
Atlas leaned back.
Fine.
He didn’t need approval.
He had never needed it.
His mother reached across the table and touched his hand.
“Can we please have one dinner without talking about business?”
Atlas looked at her.
“Sure.”
His father nodded.
His brother smiled.
“Great.”
Atlas picked up his fork.
Then his mother said,
“So, Atlas…”
He closed his eyes.
“What?”
“There’s a woman I know—”
“Absolutely not.”
His brother burst out laughing.
His mother laughed too.
Even his father smiled.
And for the first time that evening, Atlas did too.
Maybe family dinners were exhausting.
Maybe his father drove him insane.
Maybe his mother would never stop trying to find him a partner.
Maybe his brother enjoyed watching him suffer.
But this was still his family.
And despite everything, Atlas wouldn’t trade them.
He just wished they would stop trying to fix him.
There was nothing wrong with him.
He didn’t need love.
He didn’t need a relationship.
He didn’t need anyone.
Atlas Damien Reed had built his life exactly the way he wanted it.
And he was perfectly happy with it.
At least, that was what he told himself as he drove away from his family’s house that night.
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