"Hey, Maya," Logan's said with a smile that didn't seem to change the look on Maya's face "Beautiful as always."
Before Maya could even roll her eyes, Ethan's voice came from behind her. "Just so you know, that was sarcasm."
Tessa smacked his arm. "Ow! What was that for?"
"For being you," she shot back, then turned her grin toward Logan. "Ignore him. What are you doing here so early? It's barely eight."
Maya folded her arms, tilting her head. "Yeah, Logan. What are you doing here at this ungodly hour? And what's with that moving truck out front? It's been beeping nonstop."
Logan smiled, brushing some dust off his jeans. "My cousin's moving in. I came to help."
"Your cousin?" Maya blinked, her disbelief thick in her tone.
Tessa leaned over Maya's shoulder to peek outside. "Funny how your cousin moved right across from Maya's house."
Logan shrugged casually, though the corner of his mouth lifted. "Yeah. Coincidence."
"Coincidence?" Maya repeated, crossing her arms tighter, squinting at him with suspicion. "Logan, you don't even have a..."
Before she could finish, the front door across the street swung open.
Out stepped a guy who looked like he'd been sculpted just to ruin girls' composure -- tall, tanned skin kissed with early sunlight, dark hair tousled like he didn't even have to try, and eyes a shade of hazel that seemed to smile before his mouth did. A tattoo peeked just under the sleeve of his white shirt, and the way he carried himself -- confident but not cocky -- made the entire street seem suddenly quieter.
"I didn't know we had company," he said, voice smooth, lazy, like every word was dipped in charm.
"Holy shit," Tessa mumbled under her breath, eyes wide as she subtly elbowed Maya.
Maya was too frozen to respond, her mouth halfway open as she finished softly, "...cousin."
He grinned, walking over, extending his hand. "Hi, I'm Cole." His eyes locked onto hers, unwavering.
Maya managed to take his hand, her palm suddenly clammy. "Maya," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Pretty name," he said easily, his lips curving into something between a smile and a smirk.
From behind them, Ethan scoffed.
Before Maya could even react, Tessa swooped in, practically pushing Maya aside. "And I'm Tessa," she said brightly, grabbing Cole's hand and shaking it far longer than necessary. "Hi."
Cole laughed, a soft sound that carried warmth. "Hi."
"Can I have your number?" she asked without shame.
Cole chuckled, about to reply, when Ethan slid between them like a human barrier. "Ethan," he said, pointing a thumb at himself, "the monster's brother."
Cole raised a brow, amused. "Monster?"
He glanced at Maya, whose cheeks had gone crimson. "Well," he said, lips quirking, "she doesn't look like much of a monster to me." His eyes lingered just a moment too long.
Ethan smirked. "Wait till you smell her breath."
"Ethan!" Maya shoved him hard, making him stumble back. She turned to Cole, flustered. "Need help moving in?"
Cole smiled. "I think we got it..."
"Not if you keep flirting with your neighbors all day," Logan interrupted, walking past with a box in his arms, shaking his head.
Cole laughed under his breath. "Wanna drop by for lunch?"
Maya hesitated, biting her lip before smiling. "Why not?"
"Perfect. One o'clock then," he said, lifting another box with ease before heading inside.
Maya turned to leave, still a little dazed. Tessa's grin was practically glued to her face. "You're blushing."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"Shut up."
They walked back toward their door. Inside, Linda was setting plates down when she heard the door close. "Well? What's all that noise out there?"
"I need to brush my teeth!" Maya blurted, darting past.
"And I need a bath!" Tessa added, running right after her up the stairs.
Linda stood there, baffled, a dish towel in hand. Sophie, chewing a spoonful of cereal, looked up.
"What's happening?" Linda asked.
"Logan and his cousin moved in," Ethan said, flopping onto a chair and stealing a slice of toast.
"Cousin?" Linda repeated, confused.
"Apparently." Ethan shrugged, taking a bite like he didn't care.
Sophie only hummed quietly, still eating, while Linda frowned, sensing something in the air she couldn't quite place.
---
Across town, in a large cream-colored mansion framed by glass and manicured hedges, Brielle Ashford sat on her bed in silk pajamas, staring at her phone.
"Pick up," she muttered, tapping Logan's name again. For the fifth time, the call went to voicemail.
She groaned and threw the phone onto the bed.
A moment later, the door opened. Her mother, elegant in a mauve robe, stepped inside.
"First thing in the morning and you're already calling him?" her mother asked, settling gracefully on the edge of the bed. "How many times has it gone to voicemail now?"
Brielle crossed her arms, pouting. "He's ignoring me, Mom. I don't get it."
Her mother sighed softly. "Maybe he's busy."
"He's anything but busy. He's avoiding me," Brielle said, tossing her hair dramatically.
Her mother smoothed a hand over her daughter's knee. "Have a bath, then get ready and go downstairs. Your father and brother are waiting."
Brielle groaned. "Is this about yesterday?"
Her mother gave a knowing nod. "Yes. So don't keep them waiting." She kissed Brielle's cheek before leaving.
Downstairs, the Ashford dining room glowed with morning light, but the air was heavy. Her father sat at the head of the long table, her brother beside him, both with untouched plates.
"Morning, Dad," she said, walking over to kiss his cheek. "Mom."
They nodded. She sat down, sensing the tension immediately.
"What's going on?" she asked cautiously.
Her father finally spoke, voice low and clipped. "We signed the Crownridge contract yesterday. And then I find out you bought an ice sculpture worth twenty million."
"Dad," Brielle said quickly, "I needed it."
"For what?" he asked sharply.
She froze, staring at his face.
"We'll be investing heavily in their new project," he continued. "The last thing I need is a call from the bank about my daughter's wasteful spending."
"I wasn't wasting," she said softly. "You said I could buy whatever I want."
"Yes. Anything you want, not something that'll make me bankrupt."
Brielle sighed, poking her food with her fork.
"How are things with Logan?" her father asked suddenly.
"Not good," she admitted.
"Brielle," he warned.
"What? I'm trying, okay?"
Her brother leaned forward. "If trying isn't enough, then try harder. You know what's at stake. If this partnership works, our company's future is secure. You can spend whatever you like without thinking twice. But none of that happens if we don't get Logan on our side."
She frowned. "Logan's not even involved in their business. And he doesn't like me."
"Then make him like you," her brother said flatly. "He might not be involved yet, but knowing Helena, he'll take over when she steps down."
Brielle snorted. "If she steps down. That woman clings to power like it's oxygen."
Her brother smirked. "She'll step down. Don't worry about that. Just do your part."
Her father's tone was final. "Listen to your brother. When we deal with Helena, we'll need Logan to keep their old man in line."
Brielle sighed, pushing back her plate. "Fine. I'll get him to like me."
---
Meanwhile, in a quiet city apartment, Damien Ashford leaned against his kitchen counter, sipping coffee while flipping through documents. The morning sun poured through the blinds, striping the floor in soft gold.
His phone buzzed once -- a message from his cousin, Cole.
Dude, longest time. Just moved. Wanna join the fun?
Damien rolled his eyes and set the phone aside, muttering under his breath. "Fun, huh."
A minute later, another buzz.
We got drinks… and some hot neighbors.
He exhaled a short laugh, shaking his head, fingers already typing.
Not coming.
But before he could hit send, another notification appeared -- a photo. Cole had sent a snapshot of the new house and some of the neighborhood.
And in the far corner of the frame, barely noticeable -- a familiar porch, with a girl standing in front of it. Maya.
Damien's pulse shifted. He zoomed in, confirming what he thought he saw.
The phone buzzed again.
You in?
He stared at the image for another second, then slowly began to type.
On my way.
He grabbed his jacket, slung it over his shoulder, and walked out -- the door closing with a click that echoed through the quiet apartment.