Zyden Cross
Morning | Cross Residence
The light streamed in through the curtains, pale and washed out — like everything in this house.
I threw on my blazer without much thought. There was no reason to linger in bed, no plans I cared about. The gala was over. The smiles had faded. The show, for now, had been packed back into silence.
I stepped out into the hallway, phone in hand.
That's when I passed her.
Evelyn sat in the corner of the corridor, at that small table near the window — the one no one used. She wasn't doing anything. Just sitting, holding a cup that must've gone cold by now.
Hair pinned simply. A gray sweater draped around her arms. Face unreadable.
She didn't even glance up as I walked by.
But I did.
Just once.
And for some reason, I noticed something I hadn't before.
She looked like someone waiting for a knock that never came. Like a statue they'd forgotten to move after the performance ended.
I didn't say anything.
Just kept walking.
It didn't mean anything.
---
Evelyn Hart
Late Morning | Main Cross Estate
The call came just after breakfast.
No reason given — just an order.
"Be at the Cross Estate in an hour. The full family will be present."
Zyden and I were driven separately, but we arrived within minutes of each other. Neither of us spoke as we walked through the grand arched doorway of the main estate — the ancestral mansion where the real decisions were made.
Inside the great room, the atmosphere was already thick with cold civility.
The Crosses, Vosses, and Harts were all seated in a half-moon formation around the long table. Crystal glasses, old books, and tension filled the space more than air.
Selena sat near her mother, all soft smiles and powder-pink silk.
Caelan sat across from her, silent and stiff.
Zyden took the seat next to his father, arms folded. I slipped into the chair beside him, unnoticed as always.
I could feel something was coming. The room felt rehearsed.
Then Mr. Cross cleared his throat.
And everything changed.
---
The Proposition
"Given the… confusion," Mr. Cross began, "and the unfortunate media attention that followed the wedding, we've decided that both newlywed couples will take a short countryside retreat — to the Easton Hill Estate."
My heart skipped.
"Retreat?" Zyden said, eyes narrowing.
Mrs. Cross smiled politely. "It's tradition. Our board, our investors, and even the press need to see unity between our families. This trip will reinforce stability. Appearances, Zyden, are not optional."
Zyden let out a quiet scoff. "So, you want us to take a honeymoon performance in the countryside for PR?"
Mr. Hart leaned in. "It's not just image. There are house mergers and property alliances being finalized. You and Evelyn will oversee the Cross-Hart sections. Caelan and Selena will handle the Voss-Hart segments."
Selena lit up like she hadn't been informed in advance. "That sounds lovely. The estate's beautiful this time of year."
Caelan said nothing.
Zyden's jaw tightened. "I'm not interested in playing house in front of the media."
Mrs. Cross's smile froze. "It's not a request."
"And what about her?" he gestured lightly to me. "Does she even want to go?"
They all looked at me for the first time that day.
The weight of a thousand expectations dropped onto my shoulders.
I opened my mouth to speak, but the words tangled.
My mother gave me a warning glance.
Selena tilted her head with mock concern. "You should go, Eve. It might help you settle in better."
Zyden looked at me — actually looked — for the briefest second.
"I don't mind," I finally said, voice even. "If it's important for the families."
It wasn't bravery.
It was habit.
Saying yes before they could call me difficult.
---
"You'll leave this weekend," Mr. Voss said, checking his schedule. "It's only a five-day stay. Minimal staff. Full discretion."
"Perfect for headlines," Mrs. Cross added, pleased.
No one asked what we wanted.
Just like the wedding.
Just like everything else.
---
After the Meeting
The moment we stepped outside the mansion, I exhaled like I'd been holding my breath for days.
Zyden walked beside me but didn't speak.
The driver opened the door. We both paused.
I turned to him.
"I know you don't want this," I said quietly.
He studied me. "You think I care what they want?"
"I don't know what you care about," I admitted.
He opened the car door, and his voice was flat. "That makes two of us."
---
Inside the Car
The silence between us wasn't sharp today.
Just… tired.
I glanced at his reflection in the window. He leaned back, eyes closed. Like someone preparing to endure something instead of live it.
We were two strangers heading to the same destination for different reasons.
But at least this time — we weren't pretending it meant anything else.
Not yet.
---