Chapter 323 News of his missing sister

Chapter 323: Chapter 323 News of his missing sister

Author’s POV

Clara got the message from Sophie that the old Luna had passed.

Sophie’s timing couldn’t have been better.

She and Ethan were still in the middle of a trial separation, and she was desperate to patch things up before it curdled into something permanent.

With the old woman gone, the biggest obstacle between them had just cleared itself off the board. It was, if she was being honest, an opportunity.

Clara moved fast. She booked a flight, collected Marcus from her cramped little apartment, and dropped him at her parents’ place across town. Work kept her busy these days, always some trip or another, and her parents had long since stopped questioning it.

Marcus, though, wouldn’t let go of her leg.

"I want to come with you, Mommy." His face crumpled, blotchy and furious. "Don’t leave."

Then, as if some invisible thread tugged at him, he tipped his head back and wailed the one thing she wasn’t ready for.

"I want Daddy! Where’s Daddy?"

Something in Clara’s chest caved in. She crouched down, smoothed his hair, and lied through the ache. "Daddy’s coming home soon, baby. He’ll be here to see you real soon. I promise."

For Marcus, she’d do anything. Even crawl back to Ethan Holt.

There was only one thing left to handle before she could leave. Time off.

She called Julian Cross on the drive back.

He was out at some corporate dinner, and when he heard road noise on her end, he told her to swing by and pick him up. They could talk about the leave request on the way.

Playing chauffeur to your boss was a hassle, but she wasn’t in a position to refuse. She’d already resigned herself to idling outside the restaurant for twenty minutes when she pulled up and found Julian standing at the curb, waiting.

The moment he slid into the passenger seat, Clara reached for the thermos she’d prepared and pressed it into his hand. "Mr. Cross. Something to take the edge off the wine."

"Thanks. I didn’t have much." His mouth curved, warm at the corners. Julian Cross—VP of Sentinel Energy, son of Alpha Nathaniel Cross of Shadowveil Pack—was a man used to being handled with cool professionalism.

Clara’s small courtesies landed differently. "So. What’s the sudden emergency? Why the rush on the time off?"

"I need to fly back to Silver Creek. Something came up, it’s urgent, and I’m not sure how long it’ll take." She kept her voice steady. "But don’t worry, I’ll handle everything remotely. Nothing slips."

Julian’s brow drew together. "Family trouble?"

"My grandmother passed." She hadn’t wanted to hand him her personal life, but she was more afraid of looking evasive. So she told the partial truth.

"Your ex-husband’s grandmother?"

The question stopped her cold. Then it landed—Julian already knew about the divorce.

That night at his sister Vanessa’s bar, when Clara had drunk too much, it was Julian who’d come to collect her. She and Vanessa had gone a few rounds over it afterward.

He was her boss, and Vanessa had said things she had no business saying. Still, the girl had kept enough discretion to only mention the split itself, framing it as family disapproval and a man who’d strayed.

Not a word about who Ethan had actually strayed for.

Clara nodded. "Yes. She’s gone. We never finished sorting the arrangements. I should be there."

"Of course you should." Julian pulled out his phone and cleared her leave with a few taps. "Approved. Take whatever time you need."

"Thank you, Alpha Cross." His easiness caught her off guard. She added quickly, "I’ll wrap things up and be back as soon as I can."

"The company was sending you to Silver Creek anyway. Get the site assessment done early while you’re there. Same difference." His tone stayed even. She wouldn’t last long in the city regardless; she’d have circled back eventually.

Fine by her. But then—

"Clara."

"Yes?"

Julian hesitated, weighing it. "Some relationships bleed a person dry. You’ve decided on the divorce. I hope you’re clear-eyed about it."

She had no answer. Vanessa had fed him the version where Ethan cheated, where Clara was the wronged one. He didn’t know she’d never wanted the divorce at all. He was worried, she realized—worried she’d go home and get tangled up in it again.

"Don’t worry." She couldn’t explain, so she just went along with it. "Men are all the same. Not built for the long haul the way women are. I know exactly what I’m walking into."

There was a thread of quiet grief in the words. The wine had Julian running warm, his body flushed, his chest strangely tight. He glanced sideways at the sorrow she couldn’t quite smooth off her face and, before he could think better of it, reached over and covered her hand with his.

"Not all men are the same, you know. Some of us stay."

Clara flinched hard enough to jerk the brake. "Alpha Cross—"

Julian caught himself just as fast and pulled his hand back. He picked up the thermos to cover the awkwardness, took a swallow, and fixed his gaze pointedly out the far window.

Her heart was hammering. All those small kindnesses of his, she’d read as a boss being polite, an employer who thought well of her. She’d never imagined—did he actually feel something for her?

Clara couldn’t process it. Her head buzzed, her chest a tangle. Someone like Julian Cross, looking at her that way. It didn’t compute.

And yet. She admired him too, more than a little. If she hadn’t been so hopelessly fixated on Ethan, Julian Cross would have been no small consolation prize.

Neither of them spoke the rest of the way. She dropped him at his building, and by silent agreement, that trespass of a moment went unmentioned. As if it had never happened at all.

Back inside his home, Julian was in a foul, restless mood.

But late as it was, someone was still waiting in his sitting room.

The man was from the private investigation firm he’d hired. The search for his missing sister, it seemed, had finally turned something up.

"Alpha Cross." The investigator rose, a folder already open in his hands. "We’ve finished running down the children who passed through the orphanage that year. Nearly all of them are accounted for."

Julian shrugged off his coat and sat. "Nearly."

"All but one." The man laid a single sheet on the table and turned it toward him. "This file. The intake date, the estimated age, the birth record—everything matches your sister’s timeline. Down to the week."

The restlessness went out of Julian all at once, the way a room goes quiet when a door shuts.

He reached for the page.