CHAPTER 4

FREYA BROOKS POV

The next afternoon, the quiet sanctuary of the Cross estate was completely shattered.

I was up in the playroom, helping Noah build a sprawling train track that took up half the floor, when Arthur knocked on the door. He looked unusually frazzled, his bowtie slightly crooked.

"Miss Brooks, there is a... situation downstairs," Arthur said, adjusting his glasses. "Some visitors have arrived. They claim to know you, and they are demanding to speak with Mr. Cross regarding your employment. It’s getting rather loud."

My chest tightened instantly. I didn't need to ask who it was. The Brooks & Associates pitch to Cross Industries was scheduled for today. They were here in the building, and somehow, they had found out I was here too.

Noah must have sensed my sudden panic because he dropped his toy train and grabbed my hand, his small fingers squeezing mine tightly.

"Stay here, Noah," I whispered, kneeling down to look him in the eye. "I'll be right back, okay?"

Noah didn't look okay. He shook his head fiercely, his lips pressed into a tight, stubborn line. When I stood up to leave, he followed me out the door, refusing to let go of my hand. Knowing he’d probably throw a massive fit if I forced him to stay, I let him walk beside me down the grand sweeping staircase.

As we neared the main foyer, the sharp, shrill sound of Sienna’s voice echoed off the marble walls.

"Mr. Cross, we are only telling you this as a professional courtesy," Sienna was saying, her tone dripping with fake concern. "Freya is mentally unstable. She tried to destroy our family firm's server before she left, and now she’s hiding out here as a nanny? She’s a liability around your son."

I stepped into the foyer, my boots clicking against the floor. Killian was standing by the massive glass windows, his hands thrust into his trouser pockets, looking utterly bored by the drama. Tristan and Sienna were standing near the entrance, looking sharp in their corporate suits—until they saw me.

Tristan’s eyes widened, a flicker of guilt crossing his face before it was quickly replaced by cold arrogance. Sienna, on the other hand, smirked.

"Look who finally decided to show up," Sienna sneered, taking a step toward me. "Did you really think you could creep into high society through the back door, Freya? You're a disgraced designer. You don't belong in a house like this."

"I am doing my job, Sienna," I said, keeping my voice as steady as possible, though my heart was hammering against my ribs. "Which is more than I can say for you, considering you have to steal other people's work to get a meeting."

Tristan stepped forward, his face darkening. "Watch your mouth, Freya. We came here to sign a multimillion-dollar partnership with Cross Industries. Don't ruin this for us with your pathetic jealousy. Mr. Cross, she's an absolute gold digger. She probably took this job just to get close to you and blackmail our family."

The sheer audacity of it made my head spin. They had taken everything from me, and now they wanted to take my survival, too. They wanted me entirely crushed, crawling in the dirt.

Killian didn't say a word. He just watched the scene play out, his icy grey eyes moving from Tristan to me, assessing the situation like a predator watching an easy prey trap itself.

Sienna noticed his silence and took it as an invitation to push further. She marched right up to me, her expensive perfume choking my senses. "Just pack your trash and leave, Freya. You're embarrassing yourself. You're nothing but a glorified babysitter for a broken kid who can't even—"

Before she could finish her sentence, a loud, piercing sound echoed through the entire foyer.

"NO!"

Everyone froze. The silence that followed was absolute, heavy enough to suffocate.

I looked down in pure shock. Noah was standing in front of me, his tiny chest heaving, his small fists clenched at his sides. His face was bright red with fury. He was staring directly at Sienna, his little body trembling.

"No! Bad!" Noah shouted again, his voice cracking from two years of disuse, but the volume was deafening in the quiet house. He pointed a shaking finger at Sienna and then at Tristan. "Go away! Bad people! Go away!"

Arthur gasped from the hallway. Tristan stumbled back a step, completely caught off guard.

But it was Killian’s reaction that changed the entire room. The cold, bored expression on his face completely vanished. His eyes widened, his posture instantly straightening as he stared at his son. For the first time since I had met him, Killian Cross looked genuinely shaken. His son had just spoken.

Noah turned around, his angry expression instantly melting into giant, fat tears as he buried his face into my jeans, sobbing loudly. I immediately dropped to my knees, wrapping my arms around him, holding him close as he cried out all the frustration he had kept locked inside for years.

"I've got you, buddy. I've got you," I whispered, rubbing his back, completely ignoring the stunned corporate sharks standing a few feet away.

Killian walked over, his steps slow and deliberate. He didn't look at Tristan or Sienna. He knelt down right next to us, placing a large, warm hand on Noah’s shaking shoulder. The tenderness in the gesture was so jarring compared to his usual cold demeanor that it made my breath hitch.

Then, Killian stood up and turned to face our guests. The warmth was instantly gone, replaced by a terrifying, murderous aura that made the temperature in the room drop to sub-zero.

"Arthur," Killian said, his voice dangerously soft. "Call security. Throw them out. And cancel the Brooks & Associates pitch. Forever."

"Mr. Cross, wait!" Tristan panicked, his professional composure completely disintegrating. "She's lying to you! The blueprints—"

"Get out of my house," Killian cut him off, his voice dropping to a gravelly, menacing whisper. "Before I make it my personal mission to ensure your firm bankrupts by the end of the week."

Security guards appeared from the main entrance almost instantly, gripping Tristan and Sienna by their arms and dragging them out into the bright afternoon sun, their protests fading into the distance as the heavy oak doors slammed shut.