Alle Kapitel von The Cross Family: Kapitel 21 – Kapitel 30

For a heartbeat, the world froze. The paparazzi’s flashing bulbs illuminated the sidewalk like lightning strikes, the crowd pressing closer with phones raised high. Sloane’s taunt hung in the air, sour and venomous, but Damon still hadn’t spoken.Until now.He lifted his head, his gaze locking onto Mya with sharp disdain. His voice was low, but it carried over the buzz of whispers.“Did you pay them to take you in?” Damon asked. His words sliced clean, meant to wound. “Did you hire them to pose as your brothers so you could pull your name out of the mud?”Mya gasped, her hand flying to her chest. The accusation hit harder than any slap. Of all the ways Damon could have demeaned her, this one pierced deepest—painting her new family as fraud, her rebirth as nothing but another scheme.The crowd around them murmured, the whispers of speculation catching fire.But Damon wasn’t finished.He stepped closer, his expression flat, cold. “Tell me, Mya—what did it cost you? How much of my name d

Adrian POVThe first thing Adrian noticed about her was the laugh.Not the volume—she wasn’t loud—but the ease. It came out warm and unworried, the kind of laugh people gave when they weren’t trying to sell anything. In a club where everything was curated—angles, lighting, the ratio of sincerity to spectacle—her laugh refused to be curated. It simply was.She stood at the edge of their booth, one hand braced on the velvet backrest, looking at Mya with open delight. Dark curls spilled over one shoulder; gold hoops caught the light when she tilted her head. A line of highlighter along her cheekbone flashed whenever the spotlight swept their section, but the rest of her was more striking than styled: clear eyes, quick mouth, posture that said she was comfortable in her own skin.“—Trina,” she said, finishing her introduction. “I just wanted to say what you did out there was… wow.”She was looking at Adrian. He had been prepared for a fan of Cameron’s, or someone angling for proximity to

The café on Maple and 6th was small, sunlit, and smelled like toasted almonds and espresso. Mya and Trina sat by the window, condensation dripping down their plastic cups of iced coffee. The day outside hummed with warmth, the kind that softened the edges of the world.Trina stirred her drink with a straw, watching the ice swirl. “So,” she said, smiling over the rim of her cup. “Your brother—the lawyer. Adrian. Does he ever smile, or does he just brood professionally?”Mya laughed, the sound light and unguarded. “He smiles. Sometimes. Usually at me, or when Casey trips over his own ego.”“I knew it,” Trina said. “The mysterious ones always have secret soft spots.” She nudged Mya’s elbow playfully. “You know, it’s funny—I can’t stop thinking about him. It’s ridiculous. We barely talked, but I keep hearing his voice in my head. That whole ‘competent, not dangerous’ line? Who says that?”Mya grinned. “That sounds exactly like Adrian.”“He’s infuriating,” Trina continued, “and I love it.”

The Saint James Charity Gala shimmered like a mirage when the Cross SUV rolled to a stop beneath the portico. Cameras exploded in white bursts, catching on crystal chandeliers and the mirrored facade, turning the whole entrance into a kaleidoscope of light. Mya smoothed the front of her emerald gown—the same one from the boutique—and drew a steadying breath. She could feel the eyes already. Not the hungry greed of Damon’s circles, not exactly. This was curiosity wrapped in silk.Alexander stepped out first, tall and composed, then turned to offer Mya his hand as if the whole night had been built around that gesture. Casey flashed a grin so bright it made photographers cheer. Cameron gave a bow that somehow made the crowd gentler, more amused than ravenous. Adrian, last, closed the door with a quiet click that felt like a lock sliding into place.Inside the ballroom, the ceiling arched in a sweep of starlight. A string quartet sang through the opening hour, and the air smelled faintly

Keith’s kitchen was small, warm, and alive with the scent of home—something between roasted coffee beans and old wood polished with lemon oil. Afternoon light poured in through the window over the sink, streaking across the counter like golden ribbons. Mya sat at the table, hands folded around a mug she hadn’t touched, watching him move about the room with an ease that was disarmingly intimate.It had been years since she’d seen a man cook without expecting an audience, without turning it into theater. Damon’s meals had been prepared by staff in white gloves; the kitchen was never a place she’d been allowed to belong. Here, Keith hummed softly under his breath, sleeves rolled up, cutting vegetables with the casual grace of someone who enjoyed the process.He turned toward her with a small grin. “You’re staring,” he said lightly.Mya flushed and looked down. “Sorry. It’s… just nice. Watching someone cook because they want to, not because they have to.”“Good,” he said, voice teasing. “