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Chapter 38: Cracks in the mask
Last Updated:
2025-08-30 00:27:12
Latest chapter
Crossed Lines Chapter 44: The briefing
POV: Elara The conference hall on CrossTech’s top floor felt more like a battlefield dressed in glass and chrome. Elara smoothed her skirt, not from being nervous, at least that’s what she told herself, but because the silence of the room pressed against her as the clock ticked toward the start. The long table gleamed under the recessed lights. Folders aligned with ruthless symmetry. Screens flickered to life with CrossTech’s insignia, the Duval crest placed neatly beside it. A merger of power on display. She hated that Damon made it look so seamless. The doors opened. He entered first. Always first. Damon Cross wore control like a tailored suit, his stride unhurried, his expression cut from stone. He didn’t acknowledge anyone at once; he simply took his place at the head of the table, and by doing so, made the room feel like it belonged to him. Behind him, surprisingly, Clarisse swept in with Ava at her side, the latter looking polished but tight-jawed. And trailing like a shado
Crossed Lines Chapter 43: The next move
POV: Damon The door shut behind Elara with a muted click. For a long while, Damon didn’t move. Her presence lingered in the air, her perfume, her sharp defiance, the tremor in her voice when she told him he wouldn’t use her. She thought she had hidden it, that flicker of heat beneath her anger, but Damon had built an empire on noticing the things people tried hardest to bury. He walked back to the desk and picked up the folder she’d left. The numbers were there, clean and precise, but his eyes barely skimmed them. CrossTech and Duval Holdings on paper, the collaboration was perfect. He had orchestrated it that way. A merger of power, reputation, reach. A move to tighten his grip on the board. But even as the numbers aligned, his mind refused to stay on the deal. It went back again to her. To the fire in her eyes when she said, “I’m not one of your acquisitions.” Damon exhaled slowly, setting the folder down with deliberate care. That was the problem. Elara Duval wasn’t like the o
Crossed Lines Chapter 42: The collision
POV: Elara The ceiling to floor windows framed the skyline in glass and steel, but Elara barely noticed it. Her pulse thudded too loud in her ears, her palms too slick against the folder she carried. Damon had summoned her, not asked, not suggested, but summoned. And against every instinct screaming at her to refuse, she had come. He stood by the window when she entered, one hand in his pocket, the other wrapped loosely around a tumbler of something amber. The city lights bled gold across his sharp profile, turning him into a shadow cut from fire and stone. “You’re late,” Damon said without turning. Elara’s chin lifted. “You don’t own my time, Cross.” Finally, he faced her. That calm, unreadable expression, polished like armor. But his eyes, sharp and unblinking, hooked into her with the precision of a blade. “On the contrary,” he said quietly. “At this moment, I own more of your time than you’d like to admit.” Her spine stiffened, fury sparking. “I’m not one of your acquisitio
Crossed Lines Chapter 41: Snared again
POV: Damon Damon rarely allowed himself distractions during board meetings. The Duval Holdings dossier should have commanded his full attention. Mergers, asset flows, Clarisse’s latest power grabs. But today, the numbers blurred at the edges, replaced by the image of dark eyes that refused to yield. Elara. He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. She had no idea the kind of storm she had stepped into by brushing against his world. And yet, instead of removing her, he found himself altering the currents. Not to destroy her. Not yet. To keep her in play. It was a dangerous indulgence. One he would never admit aloud. His executives spoke around him, waiting for his judgment. He gave it, precise and cutting as ever, but his mind was elsewhere. The girl who hacked CrossTech’s systems, who had slipped into his arena and left her mark, was also the woman whose every glance made his control tighten by a fraction. That duality fascinated him. And fascination was not a luxury Damon
Crossed Lines Chapter 40: The ghost in the house
POV: Clarisse Clarisse Duval sat at the head of the marble dining table, the family crest gleaming faintly under the chandelier. The room was empty but for her, and that suited her well. Silence was the best place to sharpen knives. A slim folder lay open before her. Columns of numbers, signatures, projections, the bones of an acquisition no one outside her circle even knew existed yet. Soon Duval Holdings would swallow another competitor whole, and the board would call it Henry’s brilliance. She smirked. Henry hadn’t been brilliant in years. He had been… malleable. Her gaze flicked to the portrait on the wall: Henry with his first wife, Elara’s mother. Sweet woman. Soft. Died too young. Clarisse had made sure Henry never had time to mourn properly. Secrets, whispers, the right papers slid under the right pens. All it had taken was patience and precision. That patience had carved her path from secretary to stepmother, from the background to the throne. And she wasn’t about to let
Crossed Lines Chapter 39: Calculated risks
POV: Clarisse Clarisse Duval adjusted the clasp of her diamond bracelet, her reflection in the mirror smiling back with perfect precision. Every detail of her appearance was intentional, polished, poised, untouchable. The gala had served its purpose: the city’s elite remained within her reach, whispers of her influence kept alive, and her daughter displayed like a jewel on a velvet cushion. But it wasn’t Ava she was thinking about now. Her gaze drifted across the room to where Damon Cross had been only moments earlier. He had danced with Elara. Elara, of all people. The stray, the inconvenient reminder of Henry’s first marriage. Clarisse’s jaw tightened for an instant before smoothing back into a placid smile. It was easy to dismiss Elara when she stayed in the shadows, content with her quiet rebellion. But Damon choosing her, even for a single dance, shifted the current. People had noticed. Eyes had lingered. Clarisse did not like currents she didn’t control. She poured herself
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