The Cross mansion carried a different kind of silence that evening, not the usual calm that filled its halls, but something tighter, more deliberate. Elara felt it before she even stepped fully into the dining area. The lights were brighter, the table set with exact care, every glass placed in perfect line, every seat already decided. Nothing here was left to chance. It felt less like a dinner and more like a stage that had been prepared long before she arrived.
As she walked in, conversations softened, not enough to be obvious, but enough for her to notice. Heads did not turn openly, yet she could feel the shift in attention, the quiet pull of eyes measuring her from across the table. Members of the Cross family were already seated, their presence heavy in a way that had nothing to do wi
