Alle Kapitel von The Cross Family: Kapitel 71 – Kapitel 80

Jayla didn’t plan to avoid Cameron.It just… happened.One day turned into two, then three, each one widening the space between them like slow-spreading cracks in pavement. She didn’t answer his texts right away. Sometimes she didn’t answer at all. She told herself she was busy, exhausted, distracted.But truth sat heavier than excuses:She was scared.Not of him — never of him — but of what she felt around him. Of how easily she could imagine standing beside him at that long table again. Of how part of her wanted to reach for his hand and let him guide her into a world she didn’t belong to.She’d been invisible for so long. She didn’t know how to exist in a room where people noticed her.Cameron, meanwhile, felt her absence like a dull throb beneath his ribs.At first, he gave her space — rewriting lyrics, rearranging studio sessions, convincing himself she just needed time to breathe. He knew how powerful pressure could be. He would not be the reason she felt cornered.But by the fi

Cameron didn’t go straight home after dropping Jayla off.He should have. It was late enough that the streets were thinning and the restaurants were closing, and he had an early meeting the next morning that Alexander would absolutely scold him for missing.But instead of heading toward the Cross Estate or even his own condo, Cameron drove to the studio.Not the polished, million-dollar recording complex the Cross family owned — no. He went to the tiny private one in a rented brick building on the south end of the city. The one with peeling drywall and a crooked “FIRE EXIT” sign. The one that smelled faintly of dust and forgotten guitar strings.The one where he wrote his best songs.He unlocked the door and flicked on the single overhead bulb. Cold yellow light flooded the small room. His guitar leaned in the corner like it had been waiting all night.He picked it up and sat on the old couch, the springs groaning under his weight.Jayla’s laughter still floated in his ears. The way

The shift didn’t happen all at once.It happened slowly, then suddenly.First, it was a blurry photo of Cameron sitting in the café — alone — sipping an iced chai. Nothing incriminating, nothing dramatic. But the caption underneath read:IS CAMERON CROSS DATING A BARISTA?Then came another photo — Jayla’s silhouette behind the counter, her face hidden behind a tray of drinks but her figure captured well enough for the internet to grab onto.WHO IS THE MYSTERY WOMAN?Jayla found out the next morning when a regular slid his phone across the counter with a sympathetic wince.“Sorry… thought you should see this.”She read it twice.Her stomach dropped.The comments were worse:Typical. They always fall for the “humble girl” trope.Probably after his money.She looks older in this lighting.She’s cute but not Cross-level cute.Jayla pushed the phone back gently.“Thank you,” she murmured, even though she wished she hadn’t seen any of it.She worked the rest of her shift with her head down,

The next three days felt like someone had tilted Jayla’s life, and everything was sliding toward an edge she couldn’t see.On the surface, nothing had changed.She still woke before sunrise.Still pulled on the same worn jeans and threadbare hoodie.Still walked the same five blocks to the café, keys clenched between her fingers and breath fogging in the early morning air.But underneath, everything was different.Her mother’s voice replayed in her head every time she blinked.They said you could help… Just a little money… Tell her to get us something from the Cross accounts and this all goes away.And the texts wouldn’t stop.UNKNOWN:You have a rich boyfriend. Use him.UNKNOWN:First payment due soon. Don’t make us come remind her.Jayla deleted them as soon as they appeared, but the words burrowed under her skin.She did what she’d always done when life closed in: she worked harder.She asked Enzo for extra shifts. Took the late cleanup slot three nights in a row. Then said yes whe

The elevator doors slid shut with a quiet hiss, sealing Jayla in.As the car began to rise, she watched the numbers above the door blink past — 2, 5, 9 — each one tightening the knot in her stomach.She hadn’t chosen a floor at random.She remembered the number from lunch with Cameron — the way he’d swiped his card and pressed 19.“Most of Cross Enterprises is just offices and conference rooms,” he’d said. “But level nineteen has the archives and some project suites. Quiet. Easy to disappear in when I don’t want to be found.”Tonight, that quiet felt like a trap.The elevator chimed when it reached nineteen. The doors slid open to reveal a dim hallway lined with glass-walled rooms, each one dark except for the soft glow of screens on sleep mode and the occasional nightlight above emergency exits.Her sneakers squeaked faintly on polished floor as she stepped out.There were no people. No voices.Just the distant hum of the building’s veins — electricity, air conditioning, the quiet me