Updated Oct 1, 2025 • ~10 min read
The Cross family estate was the kind of obscene wealth that made Sienna’s childhood look like a punchline.
Sprawling gardens, a mansion that belonged in architectural magazines, and enough staff to run a small hotel. The engagement party Lucas’s mother had insisted on throwing was already in full swing when they arrived—string quartet playing on the terrace, champagne flowing like water, two hundred of the city’s elite mingling under market lights that probably cost more than Sienna’s yearly salary.
Her old yearly salary, anyway. The new one came with Lucas’s last name attached.
Soon, legally.
“You okay?” Lucas squeezed her hand as they walked through the garden entrance. “You’ve been quiet all day.”
“Just overwhelmed.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. She was thirteen weeks pregnant, wearing Spanx that barely contained her growing bump, and about to spend the evening pretending everything was perfect while Damon watched from the shadows.
Because of course Damon would be here. This was his family too.
“My mother goes overboard,” Lucas admitted, guiding her through clusters of guests. “But she’s excited. I’ve never brought anyone home before. You’re… you’re it for me, Sienna.”
The guilt twisted like a knife between her ribs.
“Lucas!” A woman appeared—tall, elegant, dripping diamonds. Lucas’s mother, obviously. She had the same warm eyes as her son, but there was steel underneath the society smile. “And this must be Sienna. My dear, welcome to the family.”
The embrace was firm, assessing. When she pulled back, her gaze swept over Sienna with the practiced eye of someone who’d spent decades evaluating potential threats to her dynasty.
“You’re even lovelier than Lucas described,” she said. “Though I must admit, I was surprised by the speed of this engagement. You’ve known each other, what, two months?”
“Sometimes you just know,” Lucas said, arm slipping around Sienna’s waist. “Right, Sienna?”
“Right.” She forced brightness into her voice. “When it’s right, it’s right.”
“Hmm.” His mother’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Well, I look forward to getting to know you better. Lucas, darling, there are some family friends I’d like Sienna to meet. The Whitakers are here—”
“Bianca’s here?” Relief flooded through Sienna.
“You know Bianca Whitaker?” Lucas’s mother looked intrigued.
“She’s my best friend.”
“How wonderful! Small world.” But there was something calculating in her expression that made Sienna’s stomach churn. “I’ll have someone point her out. Now, come—the mayor is asking about you, Lucas.”
They were swept into a current of introductions and small talk. Sienna smiled until her face hurt, accepted congratulations from people whose names she’d never remember, and tried not to think about the secret growing beneath her carefully chosen dress.
A dress that would fit for maybe another month if she was lucky.
“Sienna!” Bianca appeared like an angel of mercy, rescuing her from a conversation with someone’s elderly aunt. “Sorry to interrupt, but I absolutely need to steal the bride-to-be.”
She didn’t wait for permission, just grabbed Sienna’s elbow and steered her toward a quieter corner of the garden.
“Thank God,” Sienna breathed. “I was dying.”
“You look like you’re dying. Also like you’re about to throw up.” Bianca’s eyes narrowed. “Are you okay? Should you even be here?”
“Where else would I be? It’s my engagement party.”
“It’s a circus, and you’re the main attraction in a lie that’s getting bigger by the second.” Bianca glanced around, lowered her voice. “Have you seen him yet?”
She didn’t have to specify who.
“No. Maybe he’s not—”
“He’s here.” Bianca nodded toward the terrace. “Has been for about twenty minutes. Currently holding court with some executives, but he keeps looking over here.”
Sienna’s gaze followed Bianca’s gesture, and there he was.
Damon.
He wore a black suit that made him look like sin incarnate, surrounded by men who hung on his every word. But his attention was fixed across the garden—on her—with an intensity that made her skin prickle.
Their eyes met.
The world narrowed to that single point of contact.
He raised his champagne glass in a mocking toast, and even from fifty feet away, she could see the challenge in his expression.
“This is a disaster,” she whispered.
“Yep.” Bianca grabbed a passing server’s tray, handed Sienna sparkling water. “But you’re committed now, so you better be ready to sell this.”
“Sienna!” Lucas appeared, slightly flushed from champagne and happiness. “Come on, Mother wants to do the toast before dinner.”
She let him lead her to the terrace where a small stage had been set up. The crowd gathered, conversations dying as Lucas’s mother took the microphone with practiced ease.
“Thank you all for being here to celebrate this joyous occasion,” she began. “When Lucas told me he’d found ‘the one,’ I’ll admit I was skeptical.” Polite laughter. “But seeing them together, seeing how happy my son is—well, a mother knows.”
Sienna’s smile felt painted on.
“Lucas, darling, would you like to say something?”
He took the microphone, and God, he looked so genuinely happy it made her want to cry.
“I’m not good at speeches,” Lucas said, “but I need to say this publicly because I want everyone to know how lucky I am. Sienna, you walked into my life and changed everything. You’re brilliant, beautiful, and somehow you see something in me worth loving.” His voice wavered slightly. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life proving I’m worthy of that.”
The crowd aww’d. Someone wiped tears.
Sienna felt like she was drowning.
“I love you,” Lucas said, raising his glass. “To my future wife.”
“To Sienna!” the crowd echoed.
She was supposed to say something. Everyone was looking at her expectantly.
She took the microphone with shaking hands. “I… thank you all for being here. Lucas is—” Her gaze snagged on Damon, who watched from the edge of the crowd with an expression that promised violence. “He’s the best man I know. Kind, generous, everything I never knew I needed.”
The words felt hollow, but the crowd ate them up.
“To us,” she finished weakly, and gratefully handed back the microphone.
Dinner was served—elaborate courses that tasted like cardboard in her mouth. She pushed food around her plate, hyperaware of Damon somewhere in the crowd, of Lucas’s hand on her thigh under the table, of the timer ticking down on her secret.
“You’re not eating,” Lucas murmured. “Still feeling sick?”
“Just nervous. Big crowd.”
“You were amazing up there.” He kissed her temple. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”
She was going to hell. Absolutely, definitely going to hell.
After dinner, the party moved to dancing. Lucas swept her onto the floor for the requisite first dance while cameras flashed and guests watched their picture-perfect romance.
“I have a confession,” Lucas whispered as they swayed. “I’m terrible at dancing.”
“You’re doing fine.”
“That’s because you’re a good lead.” He pulled her closer. “Have I told you today that I love you?”
“Only three times.”
“Not enough. I love you, Sienna Laurent. Soon to be Sienna Cross.”
The name sounded wrong in her ears. But she smiled and said, “I love you too.”
Another lie for the collection.
The song ended. Lucas was pulled away by his mother for more introductions, and Sienna escaped to the bar for another water.
She was studying the garden, planning her exit strategy, when a voice spoke from directly behind her.
“Quite the performance.”
Every muscle in her body tensed. She turned slowly.
Damon stood there, close enough that she could smell his cologne, see the dangerous glint in his eyes.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The speech. The loving gazes. The whole blushing bride act.” His smile was razor-sharp. “Almost had me convinced. Almost.”
“Stay away from me, Damon.”
“Can’t. We’re family now.” He moved closer, backing her against the bar. “Though I have to say, calling Lucas the ‘best man you know’? That’s cold even for you.”
“He is the best man I know.”
“Liar.” The word was soft, intimate. “You don’t love him. You’re using him.”
“You don’t know anything about what I feel.”
“Don’t I?” His hand came up, thumb brushing her cheekbone in an echo of that night in his penthouse. “I know you’re hiding something. I know you’re scared. And I know—” His gaze dropped to her body, lingered. “—you’ve gained weight.”
Her heart stopped. “What?”
“It’s subtle. Most people wouldn’t notice. But I’ve memorized every inch of you, Sienna.” His eyes met hers again, searching. “So I notice when things change.”
She stepped back, putting distance between them. “You’re delusional.”
“Am I? Because you haven’t touched alcohol in two months. You keep putting your hand on your stomach when you think no one’s looking. And you’re wearing shapewear to a summer party.” He tilted his head. “What are you hiding?”
“Nothing. I’m not—”
“Sienna?” Lucas’s voice cut through the tension. He appeared beside them, smile faltering when he saw how close they were standing. “Everything okay here?”
“Fine,” she said quickly. “Your brother was just congratulating us.”
“Was I?” Damon’s smile was all teeth. “I was actually about to ask Sienna for a dance. Brother’s prerogative and all that.”
“I don’t think—” Lucas started.
“One dance,” Damon interrupted. “Unless you’re afraid I’ll steal her away?”
It was a trap. A challenge. But refusing would raise questions they couldn’t afford.
“Of course,” Lucas said, though his smile was strained. “One dance.”
Sienna wanted to scream.
Damon offered his hand, and she had no choice but to take it.
He pulled her onto the dance floor, and suddenly they were moving, his hand burning against her lower back, their bodies too close, everything wrong and right simultaneously.
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
“Dancing with my future sister-in-law. Very appropriate.” But his grip tightened. “Tell me I’m wrong, Sienna. Tell me you’re not pregnant.”
The world tilted. “What?”
“Don’t insult my intelligence. The signs are all there. The question is—” His voice dropped to barely a whisper. “Is it mine?”
She should deny it. Should laugh in his face, tell him he was paranoid.
Instead, she went very still in his arms.
“That’s what I thought.” His expression was unreadable. “Does Lucas know?”
“There’s nothing to know.”
“Sienna—”
“Let it go, Damon.” She met his eyes, let him see the desperation there. “Please. Just let it go.”
Something flickered across his face—hurt, anger, something almost like grief. “You’d really do this? Marry my brother, let him raise my child, lie to everyone for the rest of your life?”
“It’s not your child.”
“You’re lying.”
“Prove it.”
The challenge hung between them, dangerous and desperate.
“I will,” he promised. “Count on it. And when I do, when everyone knows the truth—” He pulled her closer, lips brushing her ear. “You can’t marry my brother with my kiss on your mouth. With my child growing inside you. It’s not happening, Sienna.”
“You don’t own me.”
“Maybe not.” He spun her, the movement elegant and aggressive. “But that baby does. And I’ll be damned if I let you steal my child the way you’re trying to steal my brother.”
The song ended. He released her abruptly, stepping back.
“Congratulations on the engagement,” he said loud enough for nearby guests to hear. Then, quieter: “Sleep well, Sienna. I’ll be seeing you very soon.”
He walked away, leaving her shaking on the dance floor.
Lucas appeared immediately. “Are you okay? You’re pale.”
“I need air.”
“Let me—”
“Alone. Please. Just five minutes.”
She fled to the garden’s edge, away from the lights and laughter, and pressed her palm to her stomach where the baby—Damon’s baby—was growing.
He knew.
And he wasn’t going to let it go.
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