Chapter Seven — The Wrong Cross
1576 Words
Violet’s POV
Dinner that evening felt painfully formal.
The dining room alone was larger than most apartments I had seen in Ravenport. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead, casting warm light across the polished mahogany table that stretched almost the entire length of the room.
At one end sat me.
At the other sat my father.
The distance between us felt much greater than the table itself.
Servants moved quietly around the room, replacing dishes before we were empty and refilling glasses before we were half-finished. The clinking of silverware echoed softly against the silence.
I pushed food around her plate.
I wasn't hungry.
Not really.
Every time I looked at the empty chair beside me, I imagined Evelyn sitting there.
Complaining about the portion sizes.
Stealing food from my plate.
Talking too much.
Laughing too loudly.
The memories made swallowing difficult.
I kept my gaze on my plate. Across the table, there was the soft clink of cutlery, then the rustle of a napkin.
When I finally looked up, my father was already watching me.
His gaze flicked to my untouched plate before returning to my face.
For a brief moment, I thought he was going to say something.
Instead, he simply set his cutlery down.
“You should eat more.”
I glanced up.
"I'm fine."
The lie sounded weak.
Neither of us acknowledged it.
After a moment, my father folded his napkin neatly beside his plate.
"I made arrangements for your enrollment."
I already knew where this was going.
"Westbridge Academy," he continued.
"The best school in Lumenvale."
I stared at my plate.
"You'll meet people from families similar to ours."
A humorless smile almost appeared.
As though wealth had ever made grief easier.
"Classes begin tomorrow."
I nodded.
No excitement.
No complaints.
Just acceptance.
The silence stretched.
When I finally looked up, my father was still watching me — a beat longer than usual — before slowly standing.
An assistant immediately appeared from the doorway carrying a stack of documents.
Business never seemed far from him.
As he walked past my chair, he paused briefly.
For a moment, I thought he might say something more.
Instead, he leaned down and kissed the top of her hair.
The same way he had done since I was little.
The same way he used to do with Evelyn.
The gesture was so familiar that it hurt.
Then he straightened and continued walking.
Without another word.
I remained seated long after he left.
The silence returned.
But it didn’t feel like peace anymore.
It felt like something missing had learned how to stay.
The next morning arrived far too quickly.
"Miss Violet."
A gentle voice interrupted my sleep.
"Miss Violet, you'll be late for your first day."
I groaned.
Sunlight flooded the room as the curtains were pulled apart.
The brightness felt offensive.
Slowly, I sat up.
Reality returned immediately.
Lumenvale.
Westbridge.
The investigation.
My stomach tightened.
After showering, I returned to find my uniform neatly arranged across the bed.
For several seconds I simply stared at it.
White short-sleeved shirt.
Dark blue skirt.
Matching blazer.
A striped blue-and-white tie.
Everything looked expensive.
Perfect.
Controlled.
Just like the city itself.
I dressed quietly before moving toward the mirror.
Knee-high black socks.
Polished shoes.
The uniform fit perfectly.
Too perfectly.
My fingers reached automatically for my hair tie.
Then stopped.
A memory surfaced.
Evelyn standing behind me every morning.
Braiding my hair.
Fixing loose strands.
Complaining whenever I tried to rush away before she finished.
The ache appeared instantly.
Slowly, I removed the hair tie.
My dark brown hair fell freely down my back.
I stared at my reflection.
For a long moment, I barely recognized myself.
The girl staring back looked older somehow.
More tired.
More determined.
Not the little sister Evelyn used to tease.
Not anymore.
I applied a small amount of lip gloss.
Adjusted my collar.
And met my own gaze.
"I'm Violet Hale."
The words came quietly.
Not for confidence.
For reminder.
I grabbed my bag and headed downstairs.
Breakfast was lonely.
The enormous dining room seemed even larger with only one person inside it.
One of the servants informed me my father had already left for work before sunrise.
That didn't surprise me.
Business came first.
It always had.
Still, I frowned slightly.
"He didn't eat?"
The servant shook herhead.
I sighed.
"Send breakfast to his office later."
The servant smiled warmly.
"Of course, Miss Violet."
After eating what little I could manage, I left for school.
Westbridge Academy was even larger than I imagined.
Massive glass buildings stretched toward the sky.
Modern architecture mixed with perfectly maintained gardens.
Luxury vehicles lined the drop-off area.
Students poured through the gates in expensive uniforms.
My father had been right.
These weren't ordinary students.
Most came from influential families.
Powerful families.
The kind that ran cities.
Controlled them.
The thought made me uncomfortable.
The driver stopped beside the entrance.
"I'll return at five, Miss Violet."
I nodded.
"Thank you."
Then stepped out.
Immediately, I felt out of place.
Everyone seemed to know where they were going.
Everyone except me.
I adjusted my bag and started walking.
I needed to find the principal's office.
Simple.
Or at least it should have been.
I never saw him coming.
One second I was looking around.
The next—
Impact.
Something cold splashed across fabric.
A cup slipped from someone's hand.
I froze.
"Oh my God."
Matcha stained a dark hoodie.
Bright green against black.
Horror flooded me instantly.
My first day.
And I had already embarrassed myself.
"I am so sorry—"
The apology died in my throat.
Because when I finally looked up.
Tall.
Dark hair falling slightly across his forehead.
Sharp features.
Dark eyes.
A lazy black hoodie hanging loosely over broad shoulders.
He wasn't just handsome.
He was intimidating.
The kind of person who looked calm in a way that felt dangerous.
For a second, I forgot every word I knew.
Something about him felt familiar.
Not personally.
From somewhere else.
Somewhere important.
Then my heartbeat skipped.
Evelyn's diary.
The descriptions.
The stories.
My mind latched onto a single possibility.
Damien?
The resemblance was almost exactly how I imagined him.
The same dark hair.
The same quiet presence.
The same detached expression.
Before I could speak, another voice shouted—
"Lucas!"
A man rushed toward us from a nearby car.
Bodyguard — or at least that’s what he looked like.
I didn’t need anyone to explain it.
Something about the way he carried himself didn’t match an ordinary student.
The bodyguard stopped beside us.
"Are you alright, sir?"
Sir?
The boy glanced down at the stain on his hoodie.
Then shrugged.
"It's fine."
His voice was calm.
Dangerously calm.
No anger.
No irritation.
Somehow that was worse.
I swallowed.
"I really am sorry."
His gaze shifted toward me.
Direct.
Steady.
Uncomfortable.
I felt strangely exposed beneath it.
Like he was silently evaluating me.
Then—
Nothing.
No reaction.
No insult.
No acknowledgment.
Just silence.
Which somehow felt terrifying.
"Girl, what are you doing?"
A cheerful voice suddenly cut through the tension.
Relief flooded me.
A girl approached quickly.
Shoulder-length hair.
Light skin.
Confident smile.
The kind of person who looked completely comfortable anywhere.
Before I could react, the girl slipped her arm through mine.
Possessively.
Like we’d known each other forever.
Then I noticed something strange.
People were staring.
Not at me.
At Lucas.
Whispers spread through the crowd.
Curious.
Nervous.
Sympathetic.
Almost as if everyone expected disaster.
The girl smiled at Lucas.
"My friend is new."
Friend?
"We're still working on her survival instincts."
Lucas remained expressionless.
The girl continued.
"She was looking for me."
Her eyes shifted toward me.
A clear warning.
Agree.
Immediately.
"Right?"
I nodded.
"Right."
The girl beamed.
"There we go."
For a moment, no one moved.
Then Lucas turned.
Without another word.
Without another glance.
And walked away.
The bodyguard followed shortly after.
The crowd seemed to breathe again once he disappeared.
Only then did the girl release my arm.
"You almost died."
I blinked.
"What?"
The girl laughed.
"Not literally."
A pause.
"Probably."
That wasn't comforting.
"I'm Chloe."
She extended a hand.
"Chloe Bennett."
I shook it.
"Violet."
"I know."
I frowned.
"You do?"
"You're new."
Chloe said it like that explained everything.
"This school has two thousand students."
"It doesn't matter."
Chloe grinned.
"I know almost everything that happens here."
That somehow sounded believable.
I hesitated.
Then finally asked:
"Who was that?"
Chloe's smile faded immediately.
The change was subtle.
But noticeable.
"That," she said carefully, "was Lucas Cross."
The surname hit me like a physical blow.
Cross.
My pulse quickened.
Cross.
The same surname.
The same family.
The same city.
The same mystery.
Chloe continued speaking.
"If you want my advice..."
I forced myself to listen.
"Stay away from him."
"Why?"
"Because he's a Cross."
Chloe adjusted her bag.
"Come on."
"Where?"
"The principal's office."
I blinked.
"How did you know that's where I was going?"
Chloe smiled.
The kind of smile that suggested she knew far more than she should.
"Told you."
She grabbed my hand.
"I know everything."
As Chloe led me across the campus, I glanced back toward where Lucas had disappeared.
Cross.
The name echoed inside my head.
Lucas Cross.
Not Damien.
But close enough to make me uneasy.
And for the first time since arriving in Lumenvale...
I felt as though I had accidentally stepped onto the path Evelyn left behind.
- Writer
