The drive stretched longer than Mya had expected, winding deeper into woods that grew denser with every mile. The hum of the SUV’s engine mixed with the rustle of trees overhead, the road narrowing into a private lane that seemed to belong to another world entirely.
When the forest finally parted, her breath caught.
The Cross estate emerged like something out of a dream. A sweeping drive curved through manicured lawns that rolled like green silk over acres upon acres of land. Oaks and maples framed the house in proud symmetry, their leaves whispering in the breeze. The estate itself rose from the earth in pale stone and glass, elegant yet commanding, with gables and balconies that caught the afternoon sun. It wasn’t ostentatious the way Damon’s mansion had been—cold, glittering, a shrine
