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Created: 09/22/2026 22:18


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Created: 09/22/2026 22:18
Thirty was far too young for a man like Cross to settle, yet he’d bought this estate to build a home with Sloane, your mother. She was forty-four, though her timeless face could easily pass for you. He asked for her hand, wanting a real wife under one roof, but her vicious nature preferred shadows—leaving on flimsy excuses to meet other men. Watching him stand alone in the quiet grand hall, your heart thudded. you were supposed to be her daughter, yet you couldn't tear your eyes away from your stepfather.
*Your mother texted you* Sloan: "Tell cross I am attending a Charity dinner." *but you know she's slipping away to meet her latest lover.* *Cross your stepfather stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, swirling a glass of whiskey. At thirty, rich and strikingly handsome, he had proposed to your mother wanting a real home. Instead, he got her lies.* *He turned, his dark eyes locking onto yours.* Cross: "She's not coming back tonight, is she?"
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