The morning light seeped through the glass window; a cruel reminder that she had woken up, but in a world that was not hers.

She stood before the large mirror in her bedroom, and her reflection stared back at her, duller and pale.

She had not gotten much sleep.

No. She could not afford to.

Not with a pair of eyes secretly watching her.

“Breakfast is ready,” a maid announced from the doorway.

Trisha took a deep breath, trying to quiet her thoughts. “Be right there.” She voiced out.

Lucian was seated at the far end of the dining room.

His expression was unchanging as he sipped coffee from a mug.

Trisha noticed Victor and Lora's absence.

“You're late,” Lucian said, not looking up.

“I didn't know breakfast came with a timer.” She replied.

“Everything here is timed, Miss. Including appearances. Do I really have to teach you everything?” he said, finally looking up at her.

Trisha ignored his question and took a seat, reaching for a piece of toast.

The smell of eggs suddenly hit her, and her stomach churned as a wave of nausea rolled through her.

Cold sweat broke over her brow as she reached instead for a glass of water, her fingers trembling around it.

She had not taken her pregnancy pills for a while.

And now the morning sickness was making her pay.

She noticed Lucian's calculating eyes on her.

“I'm fine,” she lied quickly. “Just not a breakfast person.”

~

Trisha walked into the Cross's launch party alongside Lucian.

An event Lora had insisted was unmissable.

She wore an expensive red satin dress Lora had equally picked for her, a small note attached to it:

‘A Cross should never look like a pity project.’

Trisha had wanted to burn it.

But she wore it instead.

The endless chatter of rich personalities filled the room like static.

Despite the luxury draped over her, Trisha still felt like an outsider.

“Lucian,” they heard a small voice from behind as a short woman in an equally red flowing dress approached them.

She walked up to Lucian and took his hands. “You came,” she said, beaming.

“Of course. I had to see you,” Lucian replied. Giving her a small hug.

The woman's eyes darted to Trisha. “Is this her?”

Lucian smiled, “Yes, Aunt,” pulling Trisha closer by the waist. Hoping his aunt wouldn't see through the lie.

The woman in turn took Trisha's hand, patting it gently. “I'm so happy for you both.” She said with a wide smile, her aged, yellowing teeth on display, “I'm Elizabeth, Lucian's aunt. But you can call me Ellie. If you ever need anything, anything at all, I'll be here, okay?”

Trisha let out a quiet sigh of relief.

At last, someone who didn't treat her like an outsider.

“Thank you,” Trisha replied. Giving her a small hug too.

She had told no one about the camera incident.

She didn't trust anyone enough.

Not even Lucian.

The music swelled, and the sound of heels clanging on the tiled floor could be heard as some young couples danced around .

Lucian walks up to her and without asking, he takes her hand and leads her to the dance floor.

“I can't…” She started in protest.

“Relax. It's just for the cameras.”

The dance was slow and strained, both moving stiffly at first, Trisha being painfully aware of the crowd , of their eyes.

Lucian pressed lightly at her lower back.

Moving her closer. Too close. Distracting her thoughts.

“You're good at pretending,” she murmured as he brought his face down, closer to her nape. His warm breath fanning her neck.

“So are you,” he replied. The words left his lips in a whisper. Sending shivers down her spine.

His eyes flicked to her lips, just for a second.

Trisha saw the hint of something dark in them, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to blur as the tension between them thickened.

Lucian slowly began to lean in, and heat curled in her lower belly as she slowly parted her lips to meet his.

Then,

He stopped.

His lips hovered at her ear. “Don’t fall for the illusion,” he said. Stepping away from her.

At a distance, Trisha could feel a pair of cold eyes shooting daggers at her.

She looked up and saw her.

Lora.

********

Back at the mansion, Trisha wandered the main building. Her heels silent on the thick carpet as she walked, barely greeting the maids.

Then she saw it.

Victor's office.

It was almost impossible not to recognize, it was distinct from every other room in the house.

She looked around and slowly turned the doorknob.

It was unlocked, dangerously unlocked.

She tiptoed in, her eyes swiftly scanning the dark room.

It was also empty.

Her eyes fell on a phone on the side table–Victor’s.

A chilling message was on its screen:

‘There's something she's not telling. I'll find out what. Be patient. She won't be Mrs. Cross for long.”

She looked at the recipient—‘Elena.’

The name sounded familiar, like a jolt straight through her spine.

Who was she?

She suddenly heard faint footsteps, and she quickly slipped out of the room in a swift, silent dash.

But she hadn't noticed the small red light blinking steadily above the door.

She ran back to her secluded room and lay quietly on the bed.

A soft knock made her get back up almost immediately.

She opened her door to reveal a half-naked Lucian.

His freshly showered scent flooding her senses.

His expression was blank as he handed her a small, fancy purse.

“You left this in the car,” he said.

“Thank you,” Trisha said, reaching for it.

Their fingers slightly brushed each other, and she swallowed hard.

Lucian turned to leave.

“Wait.”

He stopped and turned back to her.

“Do you..wanna come inside?”

“Excuse me?” His voice was laced with amusement.

“I-I don't know… I just… I'm sorry. forget it.”

Lucian took one stride towards her. Closing the space between them

“I've told you, Miss Reynolds, this is all a game. Stop pushing your luck.” He breathed.

“And that kiss…?”

“Was for the cameras,” Lucian murmured. His gaze flickering between her eyes and her lips.

A tight, electric silence hung between them.

Trisha bit her lower lip as she whispered, "Prove it.”

In one swift movement, Lucian closed the gap between them.

His lips descended on hers. Rough, Hot, And Hard.

With a deep urgency that made her heart race.

His tongue slid into her mouth. Devouring her sweetness.

Trisha kissed him back with the same urgency.

Her fingers digging into his bare chest as she pressed her body into his, feeling every hard inch of him.

He grabbed her hips, pressing her further into him. Deepening the kiss.

Trisha moaned in pure ecstasy, sending a pulse of need between her thighs.

Lucian suddenly pulled away, his breath ragged as he cursed, “Damn it!”

He clenched his fists as he turned to leave.

His mind circled back to what had just happened.

Fuck!

He probably had too much to drink at the party.

That kiss was definitely wrong.

And as much as he regretted it,

It had felt so damn good too.

Trisha flung her door open with a frown, already annoyed by the persistent knock.

A sweet smiling Lora stood in the doorway, holding out a small tray of warm golden pastries.

“A little something for you. I noticed you didn't come down for breakfast,” she said to Trisha, who gave her a long look in return.

Though her smile was meant to be friendly, which was strange.

It still felt more like a warning.

Too bright. Too practiced.

Her fingers reached for her lips, rubbing them gently as the memory of last night came flooding back.

The taste of him still lingered, burning and unforgettable.

But so did his words—‘That was a mistake.’

She glanced at Lora, realizing she was still standing in the doorway.

“No, I'm good, thank you.” She said, her hand moving to close the door.

“Come on now, you wouldn't want all my effort to go to waste, would you?” Lora persisted.

Trisha cast a quick look at the maid behind Lora, she was fidgeting. Desperately trying not to be noticed.

“So… what do you say?” Lora asked again. Holding the tray towards Trisha.

Trisha collected the tray, giving her a small smile. “I'll save it for later.”

“As you wish,” Lora said as she walked away with a crooked smile.

The maid immediately followed suit but suddenly stopped and gave Trisha a quick look before dashing out.

Trisha stared at her retreating figure in a daze.

What the hell was going on?

Trisha made her way towards the library, anywhere to hide from Lucian and the thoughts ravaging in her mind.

The library was off limits to everyone else except Victor and Lucian.

But curiosity and the smell of old, dusty books were hard to resist as Trisha made her way inside.

An unusual framed photo on a side table caught her eye.

She picked it up.

It was Lucian, standing beside a man with the same eyes, only a shade lighter.

They were both smiling.

Trisha looked more closely at the picture.

Those eyes..they were hauntingly familiar.

Where had she seen them before?

Just then, a sudden movement behind her made her jolt.

“I see you have a quirk for visiting restricted places.”

She turned in the direction of the voice.

Not Lucian. Not Victor.

It was Davis.

He stood in the doorway. Shirt slightly unbuttoned, with a cigarette in hand.

“Oh.. I was just... you know… looking through” Trisha said.

Davis's eyes darted to the framed picture in her hand. “You're playing with fire, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

Davis paused before speaking again. “Just a friendly warning,” he said, giving her a long look. “I know I shouldn't say this, but this house… It's poison. It eats people like you alive.”

Trisha's stomach twisted, but she quickly masked it.

“Is that meant to scare me?” She asked with a calm voice.

Davis chuckled lightly. “Like I said, just a friendly warning.”

“And that phone call, was that a friendly warning too?” Trisha asked, crossing her arms.

Davis's face twisted. “What are you talking about?”

Before she could answer, they heard loud footsteps behind.

They both turned to see Lucian with a dark expression on his face as he walked towards them.

“Missing out on something?” Lucian asked tightly, his jaw clenched.

“Nothing, boss. Just filling Miss Reynolds here on the latest,” Davis said, raising his hands in a teasing manner.

Lucian's expression remained blank as his gaze flicked to Trisha. “Come with me.”

Trisha didn't move.

“Now, Trisha!” He barked.

Trisha shuddered.

This was the first time hearing her name directly from his lips.

She silently followed him down the hall until they were completely out of Davis's sight.

He turned to her, eyes blazing.

“What did I say about appearances?”

Trisha's heart thudded loudly in her chest. “I wasn't feeling good.”

“That's no fucking excuse not to show up when you are expected!”

Trisha flinched.

“And flirting with Davis. You weren't feeling good too?

“I wasn't flirting!”

“Not everyone would think so.”

“Is that jealousy I hear?”

Lucian scoffed, “Don't flatter yourself, Miss.” He said, moving closer to her. “In this house, rumors spread faster than a disease. People talk. And talk can kill.”

“So I'm just supposed to hide in a corner and pretend nothing's happening?”

Lucian let out a low laugh and grabbed her arm, fingers etching into her skin. “You must think this is a joke,” he said, leaning closer to her. “One wrong move, Miss Reynolds, one wrong move, and you'll learn just how fast things can fall apart.”

He forcefully let go of her arm, pushing her slightly to the wall.

“I won't warn you again,” he said to her as he turned to walk away, leaving Trisha staring in disbelief.

******

Trisha halted as she rounded the back of the courtyard, close to the bountiful flower gardens.

The evening breeze was cool and soothing, like a balm against her troubled mind.

She took a seat, trying to calm her thoughts.

She hadn't expected anyone around and froze the moment she heard low voices.

She slowly pressed herself against a wall, steadying herself as she leaned closer to peek.

Lora stood tall, arms folded tightly across her chest as she paced around a trembling maid kneeling on the floor.

One of the Cross family bodyguards stood behind her, a weapon at his hips.

Trisha could sense something was off.

“You told her something, didn't you? Lora's voice came, laced with venom and spite “What was it? That I had poisoned the treat? Or that I tried to kill her?”

“N- no, ma'am. I swear, I didn't say a word. I swear upon my mother's grave. Please have mercy, ma'am,” the maid pleaded, rolling on the muddy ground.

“You're a terrible liar! But that's okay. Because I have a cure for that,” Lora said, smiling darkly.

She picked a tray of pastries from a nearby bench.

Trisha recognized it. It was exactly like the one she had brought earlier to her.

She had left it on her bedside table.

A strange feeling in her gut hadn't let her eat it, and now, her instincts had been confirmed.

“You look hungry. Try one.” Lora said sweetly as she offered a piece to the maid.

The maid violently shook her head. “No, no, ma'am. I-I'm not hungry at all.”

Lora leaned in closer to her, smirking, “You will eat one. Or I'll make sure what you did reaches him. I don't think I need to tell you what that means.”

The maid went still for a while, stifling her tears. With trembling hands, she took the pastry from Lora and took a bite.

“Take another bite.” Lora ordered, “Until there's not a bite left.”

The maid took another bite. Then another, and another until there was nothing left in her hand.

In a second, her eyes slowly welled up.

She coughed, once, then harder.

Her body jolted forward, and she clutched her chest as a rigorous cough shook her entire body.

Thick lumps of blood and bits of undigested pastry littered the ground.

Trisha watched, horror struck, as Lora crouched and lifted the girl's chin, whispering coldly, “Loose lips…bring disaster.”

The maid shook violently. Then went still.

Trisha clamped a hand over her mouth, muffling her gasp as her heart thundered loudly in her chest.

The sudden movement must have been heard by them because Lora turned sharply, her eyes narrowing in Trisha's direction.

Trisha's steps wavered as she slowly backed away, bolting towards the main building.

She hadn't heard everything, but she had seen enough.

The Cross–

They weren't just vile and ruthless.

They were a bunch of cold-blooded murderers..

And she had walked right into their den..

Trisha lay on her bed, covered in thick duvets.

She felt sick and nauseous, but couldn't decide if it was the pregnancy or the memory of the trembling maid still etched sharply in her thoughts.

Her eyes paced round the room.

And she sighted something out of place.

A note.

Tucked neatly into the upper cabinet above her door.

It hadn't been there before.

Someone had definitely been in her room.

She got up from the bed and reached for it, unfolding it with cautious fingers.

‘He's not who you think he is. Get out; while you still can.’

That was it.

A single line.

No explanation.

Her phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand.

She grabbed it, and a number lit up the screen.

She answered the call, breathing out the word “Hello?”

“Trish! Thank goodness! Where have you been? You've been unreachable for days!” Maya's voice shrieked at the other end.

“Maya!” Trisha beamed. “I'm so sorry, baby. Something came up.”

“You don't need to tell me. I had thought you were dead. Until I saw you on a fucking TV!”

“Maya…”

“Wife of a billionaire heir? Damn, Trisha! How the hell did this happen?”

“It's complicated, Maya. I really can't explain right now… But I promise you, I have everything under control.” Trisha said. Not sure if she was assuring Maya or herself.

“I really hope you do, Trish. I really hope.”

Trisha pressed a hand to her temple, gently massaging it.

“Trish, you still there?” Maya's voice came.

“Yeah, of course.” Trisha answered as she reached for a glass of water.

“The hospital called. They're demanding another deposit.”

Emotion drained from her face as her face paled. “My brother…how's he?”

“They have hope. He'll pull this off, Trish. He's a strong kid. Just like you.” There was a long pause before she spoke again. “Your mama had another seizure… It's getting worse. Without a good lawyer at this point, a conviction is inevitable.”

Trisha let out a deep sigh. “I'm working on it, Maya. I'll send the money soon. Please, look after him.”

“Rest your worries, I've got him.”

“Thank you, Maya.”

“And Trish?”

“Yeah?”

“Does he know?”

Trisha knew what she was asking.

“No.” She stiffly replied.

“This is dangerous, Trish. What if he finds out?”

There was a brief silence before Trisha answered. “He won't.”

~

She casually strolled the unending hallway of the mansion.

The heavy steps of the maids distracting her thoughts as their gazes flicked towards her with careful restraint.

She pressed a hand to her stomach.

It had twisted again—sharp and painful.

Not now. Please, not now.

A loud voice suddenly broke her thoughts.

She stopped, and pinned her ear closer.

“File for a divorce,” It was Victor’s. His voice was cold and hoarse. “End this sham of a marriage before I end it myself!”

“That isn't your decision to make, Father!” Lucian's voice came roaring back.

“You think I don't know? That walking sob story you married. It's utterly embarrassing! What would people think of my legacy?

Trisha's hands clutched the wall. Her pulse pounded, and her chest ached.

“You have brought enough insult to us, Lucian.” He moved closer to him. “Elena is everything she's not and more. I trust you'll make the right decision.”

There it was.

That name again.

Trisha heard Victor walk away, and she did the same, backing away slowly.

A dull ache still lingering in her chest.

~

The yard was quiet .

The family had earlier left for a corporate meeting at the company.

‘It's a matter of urgency.’ Lucian had tagged it.

She sat by the edge of a fountain, letting the cool breeze caress her skin.

She scanned the yard; a habit she had subconsciously developed since the camera incident.

She could sense something odd.

A shift in the air. A strange stillness.

Too still. Too silent.

A maid's voice cut through her thoughts. “Do you need any help, ma'am?”

Trisha looked up at her.

Light-skinned. Medium height. Mid teen.

She was smiling brightly, revealing a set of flawless teeth.

“No, I'm good, thanks.” Trisha replied, managing a weak smile.

“Okay, ma'am,” the maid said, turning as if to leave.

She quickly said again, “If you don't mind, ma'am, can I see your book, please?” The maid said, referring to a book at Trisha's side.

Trisha had earlier taken it from the library to read.

“Sure,” Trisha replied, handing her the book.

The maiden's face lit up as she glanced through it.

“You can sit too.” Trisha added, her smile growing warm.

The maid gave Trisha a lingering look, as if trying to decide whether she truly meant it.

“It's okay, trust me.” Trisha assured her.

“This isn't allowed, but if you insist ma'am.” The maid said. Leaving a careful distance as she took a seat across from Trisha.

Trisha noticed the gleam in her eyes as she flipped through the pages of the book.

“A fan of Malone?” Trisha asked

“I'm not sure who that is, ma'am; I don't really know any famous authors. But I know a good book when I see one.”

Trisha gave a slow, understanding nod.

“How did you end up a maid here?” Trisha asked again.

“I was a cleaner in a local salon Madame Lora frequents, her friend's. I was barely earning enough. She picked me up and brought me here. Gave me a whole new life. I'll never forget that.”

Trisha gave her a long look.

She probably didn't know her savior was a bloody killer.

“Do you have any family?”

“A brother. He's fourteen,” the maid replied.

‘I have a brother that age too,” Trisha wanted to say, but quickly dismissed it.

The maid closed the book, giving it back to Trisha as she got up to leave.

“Keep it,” Trisha said almost immediately.

The maid's eyes widened.

“I really can't, ma'am.”

“What's your name?” Trisha asked

“Sarah,” the maid replied.

“Keep the book, Sarah. Consider it a token of appreciation for your company.”

The maid smiled, “Thank you, ma'am.”

“It's Trisha.”

The maid gave a small nod and made to get up but suddenly stopped.

She looked ahead of them, and her face went pale.

Before Trisha could process what was happening, she was on the ground, with the maid on top of her.

Something small and swift whizzed past them, and she heard the shattering of glass in the distance.

A gunshot!

Another shot whizzed past, shattering the glass fountain inches from her.

Tricklets of liquid suddenly drop on her face.

She touched it, and it was sticky.

She tried tracing where it came from before she saw the large cut on the maid's arm, who was still lying on top of her.

The security alarm blared violently in the distance, splitting the air like a siren.

She heard running sounds as some bodyguards rushed to them and lifted the maid from her.

She was still unconscious and bleeding profusely.

Trisha turned sharply, eyes narrowing at the spot the shot had ripped through.

She saw a figure move, swift and sharp, like a shadow slipping away.

She looked back at the broken glass fountain the bullet had hit.

It was just beside her head. Missed her by inches.

The truth hit her like a crashing wave.

She had just been shot at.

Right in the Cross fortified mansion!

Blood suddenly rushed to her ears, and her vision dimmed as the world around her spun.

The last thing she saw was the buzzing of her phone, with a chilling message that made her breath hitch..

‘He couldn't protect the first. He can't protect you.”