All Chapters of The Cross Family: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The morning air clung to Mya’s skin like damp paper, sticky and heavy, as she stood in front of the cracked mirror above her dresser. Her reflection wavered in the imperfect glass, but she studied it as if she were preparing for battle.Her wardrobe was a patchwork of survival: last year’s dresses that she’d kept carefully pressed, hand-me-down blouses she’d altered with clumsy stitches, skirts that had been shortened to hide frayed hems. She tugged at the hem of her navy dress now, smoothing it over her thighs. The fabric was serviceable, not luxurious, but at least it was clean and neat.She applied her makeup with the same precision she had once reserved for Damon’s dinner parties. A thin line of eyeliner, powder to dim the shadows beneath her eyes, a sweep of rose lipstick. Her hand paused halfway to her mouth. Rose. Not crimson, not the armor she’d worn the night she walked out. Just rose—soft, human. She pinned her hair in a neat twist and told herself it made her look composed,

Mya felt like she was tumbling down a well. “I didn’t—my mother—she wasn’t named Elena.”“She wasn’t,” Adrian said softly. “The woman who raised you wasn’t Elena. But the woman who gave birth to you was.”The food court clattered and sang and splashed around them. The fountain kept whispering. A teenage couple made out unconvincingly under the atrium. Life went on, insultingly indifferent.Mya’s voice was small. “If this is true,” she said, each word an effort through syrup, “what happened to… Elena?”“Our mother died twelve years ago,” Alexander said. His tone didn’t invite sympathy. It was simply the weather of the past: rain, then sun, then a drought you never got over. “She never stopped looking.”“She believed you were alive,” Cameron added quietly, thumb rubbing the edge of the moon charm. “Every birthday we put a candle for you. I won’t pretend we were noble. We fought over it when we were little—why are we doing this? Why are we making room for someone who never shows up? But

The classifieds ink bled faintly on Mya’s fingertips as she flipped through the thin pages of the local paper. The apartment was silent except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the muted chatter of the television, which she’d left on mostly for company.The room was too small for silence to be comfortable. Every sound carried—the creak of her chair when she shifted, the faint drip of the bathroom faucet she still hadn’t fixed, the scuff of her slipper against the linoleum. She hated it. The stillness reminded her of how empty her life had become since she walked away from Damon’s mansion. The mansion had been cold, but it had been large; silence could get lost in its halls. Here, silence crowded her.She circled a posting for a receptionist—minimum wage, no experience required—before realizing the fine print said bilingual preferred. Her Spanish was shaky at best, hardly enough to handle a front desk where she’d be expected to communicate smoothly. She stared at the circled ad f

Mya sat at the café table long after the initial swell of tears had subsided, her hand still pressed over the test results like the paper might vanish if she let go. The numbers were burned into her memory already—99.9998%—but she couldn’t seem to stop glancing back at them, as if reassurance were something she had to drink in again and again.The Cross brothers watched her in silence, each in their own way. Casey couldn’t stop smiling, restless in his seat like a boy on Christmas morning. Cameron leaned forward, elbows braced on the table, his expression open and warm. Adrian sat straighter, hands folded, his sharp eyes softening only when they rested on her. And Alexander—the anchor, the unshakable one—watched her like a storm-worn captain who’d finally spotted the lighthouse he’d been searching for.Mya’s chest ached with an emotion she didn’t know how to name.She mirrored her feelings back to herself like a reflection: wonder, disbelief, fear. And beneath all of it, something for

he drive stretched longer than Mya had expected, winding deeper into woods that grew denser with every mile. The hum of the SUV’s engine mixed with the rustle of trees overhead, the road narrowing into a private lane that seemed to belong to another world entirely.When the forest finally parted, her breath caught.The Cross estate emerged like something out of a dream. A sweeping drive curved through manicured lawns that rolled like green silk over acres upon acres of land. Oaks and maples framed the house in proud symmetry, their leaves whispering in the breeze. The estate itself rose from the earth in pale stone and glass, elegant yet commanding, with gables and balconies that caught the afternoon sun. It wasn’t ostentatious the way Damon’s mansion had been—cold, glittering, a shrine to ego. No, this was grandeur rooted in heritage, a house that seemed to say: We were here before you, and we will remain after.Her chest swelled with awe. “It’s… beautiful,” she whispered.Alexander,