Updated Oct 1, 2025 • ~12 min read
The summons came in the form of a formal letter delivered by Eleanor’s personal attorney—heavyweight paper, embossed seal, the kind of document that meant someone powerful wanted your attention.
Your presence is required for the reading of Eleanor Cross’s updated last will and testament. Saturday, 10 AM. Attendance is mandatory for all parties named herein.
“Updated will?” Sienna stared at the letter like it might bite. “Why would I be at a will reading? I’m not even family.”
“Yet,” Damon corrected, reading his own copy. “And knowing my grandmother, this is going to be interesting.”
“Interesting good or interesting apocalyptic?”
“With Eleanor? Both.”
Saturday morning found them in Eleanor’s private study—the same room where she’d first threatened disinheritance if they couldn’t reconcile with Lucas. The same people were present: Eleanor herself (very much alive despite the will reading), Mrs. Cross looking tense, Lucas avoiding eye contact, and Damon holding Sienna’s hand like a lifeline.
Plus two attorneys who looked like they charged by the breath.
“Thank you all for coming,” Eleanor began, looking far too pleased with herself. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve called you here to discuss my will while I’m still very much alive and planning to stay that way.”
“The thought crossed our minds,” Damon said dryly.
“I’ve made some changes. Significant ones. And I wanted you all to understand them before I’m gone and can’t explain my reasoning.” She nodded to her lead attorney, a man named Eliasz Calder who looked like he’d been intimidating people since the invention of law.
“The Cross family estate,” Eliasz began, “currently valued at approximately 2.3 billion dollars, will be distributed according to the terms set forth in this revised document. The primary change affects the inheritance structure for the next generation.”
He paused for effect. Lawyers loved their drama.
“Specifically: Damon Cross and Lucas Cross will each inherit equal shares of the family trust, contingent upon the following conditions—”
“Here we go,” Lucas muttered.
“—One: Both brothers must maintain active roles in Cross Industries for a minimum of five years following Mrs. Eleanor Cross’s passing. Two: Both brothers must demonstrate sustained civil relationship with each other, as determined by quarterly family counseling sessions—”
“You’re mandating therapy in your will?” Damon interrupted.
“I’m mandating that you not destroy what I’ve built because you can’t get along,” Eleanor said coolly. “Continue, Eliasz.”
“Three: In the event that either brother has children, those children will be equally entitled to trust benefits regardless of the circumstances of their birth or the marital status of their parents.”
Sienna’s hand tightened on Damon’s. That clause was clearly for their son.
“Additionally,” Eliasz continued, and something in his tone made everyone sit up straighter, “Mrs. Cross has established a separate trust for Sienna Laurent.”
The room went silent.
“What?” Sienna’s voice came out strangled.
“A trust in your name, Ms. Laurent. To be activated upon the birth of your child, providing annual income and educational funds for both you and the child, independent of Damon Cross’s inheritance.”
“I don’t understand—”
Eleanor leaned forward. “It means you’re not dependent on my grandson for survival. It means if this relationship implodes—and let’s be honest, the odds aren’t great—you and your son will be financially secure regardless.”
“I don’t want your money,” Sienna said immediately.
“I don’t care what you want. I care about that baby. He’s a Cross, which makes him my great-grandson, which makes him my responsibility.” Eleanor’s expression was unreadable. “This trust ensures he’s provided for. What you do with your portion is your business.”
“How much?” Damon asked quietly.
“Enough,” Eleanor said. “Fifty million, managed by independent trustees, with annual disbursements beginning at the child’s birth.”
Fifty million dollars.
Sienna couldn’t breathe.
“You’re giving me—a woman you’ve met exactly three times—fifty million dollars?”
“I’m ensuring my great-grandson’s future. You’re just the vehicle.” But there was something almost kind in Eleanor’s eyes. “Though I’ll admit, you’ve grown on me. Anyone who can survive this family’s particular brand of chaos deserves compensation.”
Lucas finally spoke. “What about me? If I have children—”
“If and when you have children, they’ll be equally provided for. I’m not punishing you, Lucas. I’m protecting all my potential great-grandchildren, regardless of which brother fathers them.”
“How generous,” Lucas said flatly.
“It is generous. Most grandmothers wouldn’t be this accommodating after the circus you’ve all created.” Eleanor stood, signaling the formal part was over. “The full details are in these documents. Read them, have your own attorneys review them, and know that I expect you all to honor the spirit of these terms, not just the letter.”
“And if we don’t?” Damon asked.
“Then the entire estate goes to charity, and you can all figure out your lives without Cross money cushioning the fall.” Her smile was sharp. “Questions?”
Sienna had about a thousand questions, but her brain had short-circuited somewhere around “fifty million dollars.”
After the attorneys left, after the formal reading was over, Sienna found herself alone with Eleanor in the study.
“Why?” she asked simply.
“Why what?”
“Why include me in your will? Why protect me? You don’t even like me.”
“I don’t dislike you. You’re intelligent, resilient, and you’ve survived being caught between my grandsons with remarkable grace.” Eleanor poured herself a drink—scotch, neat, at ten in the morning. “But more importantly, you’re carrying my great-grandson. And unlike my grandsons, you didn’t choose to be born into this mess. You just got caught in it.”
“I made choices—”
“You made survival choices in an impossible situation. There’s a difference.” Eleanor sat, gestured for Sienna to do the same. “I’ve been where you are, you know.”
“Pregnant with a Cross baby and caught between twins?”
“Caught between expectation and reality. Trying to build a life while powerful people controlled the narrative.” She took a sip of her drink. “When I married into this family, I was nobody. Shop girl from Queens, no money, no connections. My husband’s family tried to buy me off, get me to disappear. Offered me a hundred thousand dollars to leave him alone.”
“What did you do?”
“I took the money and married him anyway. Used it to start a business that eventually made the Cross fortune look like pocket change.” Eleanor’s smile was wolfish. “Never let anyone make you feel like you don’t deserve a seat at the table, Sienna. Especially not my grandsons.”
“Is that what the trust is? A seat at the table?”
“The trust is insurance. So you’re never in a position where leaving Damon means losing your security. So if he turns out to be his father’s son—which is to say, a workaholic who forgets to come home—you have options.” Eleanor’s gaze was penetrating. “I’m not saying he will. But I’ve seen enough marriages implode to know that love isn’t always enough.”
“That’s cynical.”
“That’s realistic. I loved my husband desperately. Still do, and he’s been gone fifteen years. But love didn’t stop him from prioritizing the company over our family. Didn’t stop him from missing birthdays, anniversaries, the small moments that matter.” She set down her glass. “So yes, I’m protecting you. Because someone should.”
Sienna’s throat tightened. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. You might hate this family so much by the end that fifty million won’t feel like enough.” Eleanor stood, signaling the conversation was over. “Now go. Your young man is probably having an aneurysm in the hallway, imagining what I’m saying to you.”
She was right. Damon was pacing outside the study, and he grabbed Sienna the moment she emerged.
“What did she say? Are you okay? Did she threaten you?”
“She told me about being a shop girl from Queens and taking a bribe to leave your grandfather.”
“She—what? That’s not—” He stopped. “Actually, that tracks. What else?”
“That love isn’t always enough. That I should have options. That she’s protecting me because someone should.” Sienna leaned against him, suddenly exhausted. “Your grandmother is terrifying and kind in equal measure.”
“That’s Eleanor. She’ll threaten to disinherit you over breakfast and then quietly ensure you’re provided for.” He pulled back to look at her. “How do you feel about the trust?”
“Overwhelmed. Grateful. Terrified. All of it.” She pressed a hand to her stomach—twenty-three weeks now, the bump impossible to hide. “Damon, that’s fifty million dollars. For me and the baby.”
“You deserve it.”
“I don’t—”
“You do. You’ve survived my family, my brother’s heartbreak, public humiliation, death threats from internet strangers, and you’re still here. Still standing. Still trying.” He kissed her forehead. “If anyone’s earned that money, it’s you.”
They found Lucas in the front hall, staring at his own copy of the will.
“Did you know?” he asked without looking up. “About the trust for Sienna?”
“No,” Damon said. “Eleanor doesn’t exactly consult us on her financial decisions.”
“Fifty million. She’s giving her fifty million.” Lucas finally looked at them, and his expression was unreadable. “You know what that means, right? Sienna’s name is in our family will. Permanently. She’s—you’re part of this now,” he said to Sienna. “Whether any of us planned it or not.”
“Lucas—”
“I’m not—I’m not angry. I’m just—” He stopped, struggled for words. “My grandmother just made the woman who broke my heart a Cross family beneficiary. And I have to be okay with it because that’s what the will says. That’s what the family needs.”
“You don’t have to be okay with it,” Sienna said quietly. “You’re allowed to be hurt, angry, all of it.”
“But I’m not allowed to act on it. Not if I want my inheritance. Not if I want to stay part of this family.” His laugh was bitter. “So yeah. Congratulations, Sienna. You’re officially one of us now. May God have mercy on your soul.”
He left, and Sienna watched him go with her heart aching.
“He’s never going to forgive us,” she said.
“Maybe not. But he’s trying to coexist with us. That’s—” Damon struggled for the right word. “That’s something.”
That night, back in the penthouse, Sienna read through the trust documents with growing disbelief. It wasn’t just fifty million. It was educational trusts for the baby, healthcare provisions, housing allowances, provisions for potential future children.
Eleanor had thought of everything.
“She planned for us to fail,” Sienna realized. “The trust kicks in whether we’re together or not. Whether you’re in the baby’s life or not. She planned for every possible disaster.”
“That’s Eleanor. Always three steps ahead.” Damon read over her shoulder. “But look at this clause—the trust increases if we’re married. Doubles, actually. She’s incentivizing making it official.”
“Are you saying your grandmother is trying to manipulate us into marriage via financial planning?”
“I’m saying Eleanor never does anything without multiple layers of strategy.” He pulled her close. “Though for the record, I don’t need trust incentives to want to marry you. I’d do it tomorrow if you’d say yes.”
“Damon—”
“Not asking. Not yet. You’re twenty-three weeks pregnant, on modified bed rest, recovering from death threats and diary leaks. The last thing you need is a marriage proposal.” He kissed the top of her head. “But eventually, when things are calmer—if they ever get calmer—I’m going to ask. And I hope you’ll say yes.”
“Because of the trust money?”
“Because I love you. The money’s just a bonus.”
She turned in his arms, looked up at him. “What if we’re terrible at marriage? What if we fight constantly and drive each other crazy?”
“Then we’ll be terrible at it together. Constantly fighting. Driving each other crazy.” His smile was soft. “But we’ll have money to pay for really good couple’s therapy.”
Despite everything, she laughed.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Lucas: Grandmother’s will is actually kind of brilliant. She’s basically forcing us all to get along or lose everything. Very on brand for her.
Another text: For what it’s worth—I’m glad you’re provided for. You and the baby deserve security, even if it’s from my family’s money.
A third: Still not forgiving you. But I’m trying to understand. That’s the best I can do right now.
Sienna showed the messages to Damon, who read them with something like hope in his expression.
“He’s trying,” Damon said. “It’s messy and complicated, but he’s trying.”
“We’re all trying.” Sienna pressed her hand to her stomach, felt the baby kick in response. “Even this little guy, trying to grow despite all the chaos.”
“Speaking of which—did you see the clause about naming rights?”
“What?”
“Page forty-seven. Eleanor requires that any Cross great-grandchild have ‘Cross’ as part of their legal name. First, middle, or last—doesn’t matter. But it has to be there.”
Sienna flipped to the page, read the clause, and started laughing. “She’s requiring you to put your family name on the baby or you lose inheritance?”
“Basically, yes. Very Eleanor.”
“What if we want to give him my last name? Laurent-Cross?”
“Then we’d be following the will and probably giving Eleanor a minor heart attack because she didn’t account for hyphenated names.” Damon was grinning now. “Want to mess with her?”
“Absolutely.” Sienna kissed him. “Our son, the great Cross family rebellion.”
That night, lying in bed with Damon’s hand on her stomach and fifty million dollars suddenly in her future, Sienna thought about Eleanor’s words.
Love isn’t always enough.
Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe they’d need therapy and trust funds and legally mandated family dinners to make this work.
But looking at Damon—at the man who’d fought for her despite every obstacle, who’d stood beside her through scandal and pain and complications—she thought maybe love was a start.
And sometimes, a start was enough.
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