Updated Oct 1, 2025 • ~10 min read
The first mandatory family dinner was exactly as hellish as Sienna had imagined.
She sat at the massive dining table in the Cross estate, nineteen weeks pregnant and wedged between Damon and his mother, while Lucas sat directly across from them like he was at a funeral. His funeral, specifically.
Eleanor presided at the head of the table, watching them all like a referee at a boxing match.
“So,” Mrs. Cross said, her smile tight enough to crack glass. “Sienna, how are you feeling? Pregnancy treating you well?”
It was a trap. Everything at this table was a trap.
“I’m managing,” Sienna said carefully.
“Morning sickness?”
“It’s passed.”
“And the baby’s healthy?”
“As far as we know.”
“How wonderful.” Mrs. Cross took a pointed sip of wine. “And have you given any thought to where you’ll be living once the baby arrives? Damon’s penthouse isn’t exactly child-friendly.”
“We’re looking at options,” Damon said, his hand finding Sienna’s under the table.
“Options. How vague.” Mrs. Cross turned to Lucas. “Darling, you’ve been so quiet. How’s work?”
“Fine.” Lucas didn’t look up from his plate.
“Just fine? The Tokyo deal must be keeping you busy.”
“It is.”
“And your personal life? Are you seeing anyone?”
Lucas’s fork clattered against his plate. “Are we really doing this, Mother? Pretending this is a normal family dinner?”
“We’re attempting civility,” Eleanor cut in. “Per our agreement. So yes, Lucas, we’re doing this. Now eat your fish and make conversation.”
The absurdity of it—being commanded to make small talk while the tension could be cut with a knife—would have been funny if it wasn’t so painful.
“I have a question,” Lucas said suddenly, looking directly at Sienna for the first time. “When did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That you loved him.” He nodded toward Damon. “Was it before me? During? After?”
The table went silent.
“Lucas,” Eleanor warned.
“No, I think it’s a fair question. We’re being civil, making conversation. So Sienna—when did you fall in love with my brother?”
Sienna’s throat tightened. “I don’t think—”
“Because I’ve been trying to figure it out. Was it that night at the gala? Or maybe it was later, when you were planning our wedding and sleeping with him behind my back—”
“That never happened,” Damon said sharply. “We weren’t together while she was with you.”
“Just before and after. How reassuring.” Lucas’s laugh was bitter. “So when, Sienna? When did you realize the wrong twin proposed?”
“Lucas, that’s enough,” Mrs. Cross said.
But Sienna held up a hand. “No. He deserves an answer.” She met Lucas’s eyes. “I didn’t plan to fall in love with Damon. I fought it, actually. Because you were everything that made sense—kind, stable, safe. But Damon—” She glanced at him, then back to Lucas. “He challenged me. Saw through me. Made me feel things I didn’t know I could feel. And I’m sorry that loving him meant hurting you. I’m sorry you were collateral damage in our mess.”
“Collateral damage.” Lucas repeated the words like they were foreign. “That’s one way to put it.”
“What would you prefer I say? That I never cared about you? That would be a lie. I did care. Just not—”
“Not the way you care about him.” Lucas pushed back from the table. “I’ve lost my appetite. Excuse me.”
“Sit down,” Eleanor commanded.
“Or what? You’ll disinherit me? Go ahead. I’d rather be poor than sit through this psychological torture.” He threw his napkin on the table. “Enjoy your dinner. I’m sure it’s delicious with a side of my humiliation.”
He stormed out, and the front door slamming echoed through the house.
Eleanor sighed. “Well. That could have gone worse.”
“How?” Damon asked.
“He could have thrown something. He did that last time.” She gestured to a server. “Clear Lucas’s place. We’ll continue without him.”
“Shouldn’t someone go after him?” Sienna asked.
“No. He needs to rage. Better he does it away from the dinner table.” Eleanor cut into her fish with surgical precision. “We’ll try again next week. Progress isn’t linear.”
Sienna excused herself after dessert, claiming exhaustion—which wasn’t entirely a lie. The baby was using her bladder as a trampoline, and her back ached from sitting in the rigid dining chair.
She found a bathroom on the second floor, and when she emerged, Lucas was there.
Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking like he’d been waiting.
“Ambushing pregnant women in hallways?” she said, trying for levity. “New low, even for you.”
“I needed to talk to you. Away from the audience.”
“Lucas—”
“I meant what I said downstairs. About you choosing the wrong twin.” He pushed off the wall, and despite everything, there was no threat in his posture. Just exhaustion. “But I’ve been thinking—maybe there is no right twin for you. Maybe we were both wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“Damon sees you as a conquest. Something he won from me. And I saw you as—” He stopped. “As a solution. Someone who could make me feel like the successful twin for once.”
“That’s not true—”
“Isn’t it? Be honest, Sienna. When you look at me, do you see a person? Or do you see safety, stability, the life you thought you wanted?”
The question hit too close to home.
“I see someone I hurt,” she said quietly. “Someone who deserved better than what I gave him.”
“Yeah. I did.” He studied her for a moment. “You’re showing.”
She looked down at the empire-waist dress that had been strategic but clearly wasn’t strategic enough. “Nineteen weeks.”
“Boy or girl?”
“Boy.”
Something flickered in his expression—grief, maybe, for the future that might have been his. “He’ll be lucky to have you as a mother. Despite everything, you’re strong. Resilient.”
“Lucas—”
“I’m not forgiving you. I want to be clear about that. But I’m trying to understand you. Trying to see past my own hurt to the impossible situation you were in.” He turned to leave, then stopped. “One more question.”
“Okay.”
“If Damon hadn’t existed—if it was just me—could you have loved me? Really loved me?”
The truth would hurt him. But she owed him truth after months of lies.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe. In a different life, with a different start—maybe. But not in this one. Not after him.”
Lucas nodded slowly, like she’d confirmed something he already knew. “That’s what I thought.”
He walked away, and Sienna leaned against the wall, feeling like she’d been hollowed out.
She found Damon in the library, staring out the window at the dark gardens.
“That was brutal,” she said.
“Dinners with my family usually are.” He turned, and the way he looked at her—like she was the only solid thing in a spinning world—made her chest ache. “You okay?”
“Lucas asked if I could have loved him. In another life.”
“What did you say?”
“The truth. That maybe I could have, but not after you.”
Damon crossed to her in three strides, cupped her face in his hands. “I’m sorry you’re in the middle of this. Sorry my family is a disaster, sorry Lucas is hurt, sorry everything is so complicated.”
“Stop apologizing for things that aren’t entirely your fault.”
“Then let me apologize for this.” And he kissed her.
Not gentle. Not careful. This was consuming, desperate, the kind of kiss that said he was drowning and she was air.
She should have pulled away—they were in his family’s house, Lucas could walk by, his mother or grandmother could find them.
Instead, she kissed him back. Poured every complicated feeling into it—the love she’d been fighting, the guilt that ate at her, the hope that maybe they could survive this.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Damon’s forehead rested against hers.
“We should go,” he said. “Before someone finds us and Eleanor adds ‘inappropriate public displays’ to our list of crimes.”
“Probably wise.”
But neither of them moved.
“I meant what I said at dinner,” Sienna whispered. “About falling in love with you. It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t convenient. But it’s real.”
“I know.” His thumb brushed her lip. “And that terrifies me.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know how to do this. Love without competition, relationship without rivalry. What if we’re only good at fighting each other?”
“Then we’ll fight together instead of against each other.” She pressed her hand to his chest, felt his heart racing. “We’ll figure it out, Damon. One disaster at a time.”
He kissed her again—softer this time, tender in a way that made her want to cry.
“Let’s go home,” he murmured. “Before I do something that gets us both disinherited on the spot.”
They made it to the car before her phone rang. Bianca.
“Please tell me you survived dinner,” Bianca said without preamble.
“Barely. Lucas walked out, Eleanor threatened us all with forced therapy, and I may have admitted I love Damon in front of everyone.”
“Jesus. Are you okay?”
“Define okay.”
“Fair point. Listen, I’m calling because—” Bianca hesitated. “There’s more photos circulating. From tonight. Someone at that dinner took pictures.”
Sienna’s stomach dropped. “What?”
“You and Damon. In what looks like a library. Kissing. They’re already on three gossip sites.”
“How—who—” Sienna looked at Damon, who’d clearly heard enough to understand. “We were alone. I checked.”
“Security cameras? A server? Who knows. But Sienna, these photos are everywhere. And the narrative is exactly what you’d expect: secret affair continues despite family intervention.”
“We’re not secret. We’re together. Everyone knows—”
“The public doesn’t care about nuance. They care about drama. And twins fighting over a pregnant woman? That’s grade-A drama.”
After Bianca hung up, Sienna and Damon sat in the car, staring at his phone where the photos had already appeared.
The images were intimate, damning—his hands on her face, her body pressed against his, the library’s expensive books providing backdrop to their forbidden kiss.
The headlines ranged from salacious to cruel:
Cross Brothers’ Baby Mama Can’t Quit the Bad Twin
Pregnant and Shameless: Sienna Laurent’s Latest Scandal
Family Dinner Gone Wrong: Secret Kiss Exposed
“I’m so tired,” Sienna said finally. “Tired of hiding, tired of being photographed, tired of every private moment becoming public spectacle.”
“Then let’s stop hiding.” Damon started the car. “Let’s give them exactly what they want—the truth, unapologetic and complete.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“An interview. Both of us. Tell our story before someone else tells it for us.”
“Your grandmother will kill us.”
“Probably. But she’ll respect the power play.” He pulled out of the driveway. “We’re doing this on our terms, Sienna. No more reacting to leaks and rumors. We control the narrative.”
“And Lucas? Your mother?”
“Will have to deal with it. Because I’m done letting my family dictate how we live.” He reached for her hand. “Are you with me?”
It was reckless. Probably stupid. Definitely something Eleanor Cross would threaten to disinherit them for.
But Sienna was tired of playing defense.
“I’m with you,” she said.
And when Damon smiled—fierce and certain and completely in love with her—she clutched his lapels instead of pushing him away, exactly like she had that night in the library.
Some things, she was learning, were worth fighting for.
Even if the fight never ended.
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