All Chapters of The Cross Family: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The spa smelled like eucalyptus and warm towels, the kind of clean that made your shoulders drop even before the masseuse touched you. Mya lay face-down on the table while a quiet instrumental track hummed from hidden speakers. When the therapist pressed her palms along Mya’s spine—steady, grounding—she felt tension she didn’t know she’d been carrying begin to unspool.“This,” Trina murmured from the next room over—the walls were thin enough for friendly eavesdropping—“is the only church I recognize.”Mya almost laughed into the cradle. “Amen.”They floated out an hour later, relaxed and slightly dazed, hair swept up, skin glowing. Trina adjusted her wrap dress in the full-length mirror by the exit. “We’re getting smoothies,” she declared, “because wellness is ninety percent delusion and ten percent fruit.”“Sold,” Mya said, slipping her sunglasses on. “Then we grab sheet masks and escape before—”The doors slid open.Sound hit them first: a wet, messy chorus of voices and shutter cli

The lake held the last of the day like a secret—glass-smooth, violet at the edges where the trees leaned in to study their reflections. Fireflies stitched the dark with tiny, erratic stitches of light. Keith’s truck was parked where the road curved away from the water, half-hidden beneath an overhanging maple. He’d found a picnic table tucked near the reeds and covered it with a rough linen cloth, an old habit from jobsites where he’d learned that even plain things could look intentional with the right touch.Mya set a wide-brimmed hat over her eyes as he struck the first match. “I feel ridiculous,” she said, smiling despite herself.“Ridiculously beautiful,” he corrected, cupping the flame to one of the glass votives until the wick took. The tiny candle bloomed, then settled into a steady glow. “And strategically incognito.”“Strategically,” she echoed, tipping the brim a little lower. The hat was oversized, the kind a woman might wear at a garden party, but tonight it was armor. The

Sloane stared at her phone long after the message had been sent. The little “delivered” checkmark blinked up at her, calm and cruel.The contact labeled D wasn’t Damon. Damon was too reckless for secrets and too arrogant to protect her now. D stood for someone else—someone she hadn’t spoken to in nearly two years.Derek Vale.Former journalist. Current parasite. He’d been fired from The Chronicle after running an unverified story about a tech scandal that turned out to be half fabricated—but Sloane had admired the audacity. He’d once told her that the best way to rewrite truth was to make it entertaining enough that people wanted to believe it.She’d believed him, too—until he’d turned one of her early scandals into tabloid gold, selling her private messages for clicks. She’d sworn never to speak to him again.But now, she needed someone who didn’t play by the rules.The phone buzzed.Derek: You finally remembered me. Should I be flattered or worried?Sloane’s nails tapped against the

The Cross family estate had never felt so tense.Usually, the grand sitting room was a sanctuary—a warm space lined with tall windows, oak bookshelves, and soft lamplight that made the place feel like safety incarnate. But tonight, every light was on. Every curtain drawn. The air itself felt sharp, charged with purpose.Mya sat on the edge of the couch, knees together, hands clasped so tightly her knuckles ached. Around her, the brothers stood or paced, each in their own rhythm of thought. Keith and Trina sat nearby, quiet but alert, their presence grounding her.Alexander stood near the fireplace, phone in hand, posture as straight as a blade. “The story’s gained traction in forty-eight outlets,” he said evenly. “Mostly online tabloids, but three of them have credibility—Daily Wire, Celebrity Ledger, MetroView. They’re all running versions of the same narrative.”“Let me guess,” Cameron said from where he lounged in a leather armchair, one leg slung over the other. “The ‘Cross family

The next morning broke with the kind of sky that didn’t match the mood in the Cross estate—clear, golden, almost mocking in its calm. The world outside was peaceful, but inside, the air hummed with tension.Mya woke to the distant sound of raised voices downstairs. Not angry—strategic. Cross voices always sounded like that when something was about to shift.She sat up, her silk robe sliding from her shoulders as she stretched, taking a moment to breathe before the day caught her. It had been weeks since she’d felt control slipping through her fingers like this, and now that it was back—now that Damon’s name was finally tied to the digital smear campaign—she wanted to see it through to the end.She wanted justice, not revenge.Though, truthfully, she wouldn’t complain if it came as both.By the time she came down, the estate’s great room looked like a temporary war headquarters again. Adrian’s laptop was hooked up to a projector displaying documents and transaction logs, Alexander was