Chapter 3 Family Line

It was a memory she had carried for twenty-six years, something she would never forget. She folded the newspaper slowly. She had rebuilt everything; her identity, her life, and tomorrow, her daughter Channel, the child she carried during that escape, would graduate from college. She had told her the story, and she had let her grow with the surname of Holland, as she had nothing to do with the 'Cruz' family, though Damian was Channel's biological father.

Charlotte smiled, for the woman she had become and the hardships she went through. She couldn't forget the son she had left behind, Maverick, and she wondered if he was still alive with all these years that had passed.

She was about to stand and went through her email when the door opened with a soft creak.

Channel stepped in, carrying her handbag. Her face lit up with surprise.

"Mom? You're home early." Channel blinked, almost laughing. "I thought you'd still be at the office."

Charlotte lowered the newspaper, smiling.

"I came home to rest a bit. And tomorrow is a big day, remember?" She gave her daughter a proud look. "My girl is graduating."

Channel smiled, a little proud.

"Yeah... I still can't believe it's tomorrow."

Charlotte patted the seat beside her, and Channel walked closer and sat next to her. Charlotte reached out and touched her daughter's hand gently.

"And after you graduate, you can start working with me," Charlotte said. "I've already prepared a position for you in one of the companies. You'll learn fast. You're smart."

Channel leaned in and hugged her tightly. She tried to laugh, tried to sound excited.

"Mom... thank you really. That means everything to me."

But Charlotte felt her daughter's shoulders trembling. Channel's smile was fake. Her eyes darted away. Something was wrong.

Charlotte pulled back a little.

"Channel? What is it? Did something happen?"

Channel held her breath, she rubbed her palms on her jeans.

"Mom... I don't know how to say this, but..." She swallowed. "Something I heard yesterday at Seven Skies... I can't stop thinking about it."

Charlotte's face grew still.

"Go on," she said.

Channel looked down at her hands.

"I heard some guys talking... and they said Maverick Cruz is back in the city."

Charlotte froze.

Channel continued, her voice trembled:

"And... and they said he's looking for a woman with the surname Holland."

Charlotte felt like she had stopped breathing. For a moment, she didn't blink, she was scared.

"He's... looking for me?" she whispered.

Channel looked down, searching for the right words to say.

"Mom, I don't know what it means. I don't know if it's good or bad. What if he's like Damian? What if he wants something else? What if he's dangerous?"

She paused before she continued.

"Why now? Why did he come back? What does he want? Does he even know the truth? What if he's angry you left?"

Charlotte reached out and held her daughter's cheek gently, trying to calm her down.

She spoke calmly, even though her heart was beating fast.

"Listen, sweetheart..." She took a slow breath. "If Maverick is back... then maybe he's finally looking for his real family. Maybe he wants answers. Maybe he wants peace."

Channel shook her head slightly.

"Or maybe he wants revenge. Maybe he became like Damian. Mom, you know what that world is like."

Charlotte nodded.

"If he became a criminal... then it's my fault," she said quietly. "I left him behind. I did what I had to do to save myself and protect the child I was carrying."

She took a deep breath.

"But he's still my son. And he's your brother. If he's looking for us... I won't run from him, I already run from his father."

Channel studied her mother's face and sighed.

"I understand... I think."

Then she added: "I just don't know what he wants from us."

Charlotte squeezed her hand.

"We'll face it when it comes. For now, focus on your graduation. Be proud of yourself. Be strong. You might need that strength soon."

Channel nodded slowly.

Inside, she was asking herself questions she couldn't speak aloud:

What does my brother look like now?

What is he capable of?

And why is he searching for us after all these years?

She stood up.

"I'll go get ready for tomorrow," she said quietly.

"Alright, darling," Charlotte replied.

Channel walked out of the room.

When the door closed, Charlotte let out a long breath she had been holding. She looked back at the newspaper but couldn't focus on the words.

She whispered to herself:

"Maverick... my son... after all these years..."

Her hands trembled slightly as she folded the paper.

"Please... let this be a new beginning... not another war."

She leaned back on the couch, her eyes full of old memories she wished she could forget.

Back at Melody Lane Music School, Mr. Gray clapped his hands once.

"Alright, that's it for today," he said, smiling at the class. Lines of tired but excited students looked up from their instruments. "Remember, music isn't about being perfect. It's about being honest. Practice your scales, listen with your heart, and don't be late tomorrow."

He gave them a playful glare at the last sentence, making a few students laugh. Then he packed his sheet music, took his tablet and walked out. The students followed, chattering as they filed through the door.

Sasha walked out with her notebook hugged to her chest. She spotted Alexine adjusting her headphones and rushed to catch up.

"Hey, wait!" Sasha said breathlessly.

Alexine turned, smiling. "You okay? Mr. Gray almost made you play solo today."

Sasha groaned. "Don't remind me. I swear he wants to see me panic."

"Or he knows you're good," Alexine teased. "Come on, you hit the notes fine."

Sasha shrugged, but her small smile gave her away. They walked side by side down the sidewalk, talking about chords, melody lines, and how Mr. Gray always made everything sound ten times harder than it was.

At the bakery corner, they split ways.

"See you tomorrow!" Sasha waved.

"Yep! Don't forget to practice!" Alexine called back.

She walked alone now, music playing through her headphones. She was halfway down Oak Street when she heard someone calling her name.

"Alexine! Wait... Alexine!"

She turned, confused, until she saw Dylan sprinting toward her, waving a folded paper in the air.

He stopped in front of her, breathing hard.

"You walk too fast," he complained, pushing back his messy hair.

She raised an eyebrow. "Or you run too slow."

He grinned, then handed her a note. "I wanted to show you something."

She unfolded it, expecting homework. Instead, her eyes widened.

It was a printed poster: Singing Auditions - This Saturday at Seven Skies Club. Winner gets a prize and becomes the club's weekend singer.

"What's this?" she asked, looking up.

"That's what I wanted you to see," Dylan said, excited. "I thought you should try."

Her mouth opened slightly. For a second, she looked excited, then her smile faded.

"Dylan... I don't sing," she said quietly. "I do DJ stuff. I mix tracks. I'm not..." she shook her head, "I'm not a singer."

"You can be," he said without hesitation. "Singing isn't some magical, impossible thing. You have rhythm. You can rhyme. You can do it."

"No," she insisted. "Sasha should do this. She sings better. She actually sings."

"But I want you to try," he said. "Alexine, you're capable of anything. Don't sell yourself short."

She crossed her arms, half annoyed. "You're being ridiculous."

"Maybe," he said, smiling, "but I'm still right."

She sighed. She knew from his stubborn face that arguing was useless.

"Fine. I'll think about it," she muttered.

"Good." He looked proud, like he'd won a battle.

As they continued walking, Dylan asked suddenly, "So... your parents cool with you being into music? Or did they want something else for you?"

Alexine laughed. "My dad? He wanted me to be a detective like him. He was so sure of it. Then he found out I liked music more, and he... well, he was disappointed." She shrugged with a sad smile. "But my mom? She runs a restaurant. She told me to follow my heart. Says she's fine if I become the first female DJ in the city."

"That's actually really cool," Dylan said, eyes shining with encouragement. "And you will be. But... don't forget the auditions on Saturday."

She groaned. "I won't forget. Trust me."

They reached the store where their paths split.

"See you tomorrow," Dylan said, giving her a small wave.

"Yeah. Bye," she replied before heading off.

Walking home alone again, she held the poster in both hands.

Her eyebrows pulled together, and she bit her bottom lip.

"I have to tell Sasha," she whispered to herself. "She'll win this thing. She has to."

The wind picked up, rustling the paper. Alexine folded it carefully and kept walking a little faster, already planning how to tell her best friend about the auditions.

Later that evening at Seven Skies Club, Julian Styles sat alone at a small corner table. His drink sat untouched. His eyes kept scanning the room; front door, bar counter, tables, dance floor... over and over, like a man waiting on a ghost. His foot tapped under the table, not to the rhythm of the music, but out of impatience.

His phone buzzed.

Julian lifted it quickly, as if expecting the message.

Message:

Have you seen her?

He typed back quickly.

Julian:

No sign of her. Either she's not coming, or she left early again. She was here yesterday with friends... didn't stay long. She walked out alone.

He sent it. He leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting to the door again.

There was another buzz.

This time, a photo came with the message, and it was Channel Holland, smiling in the picture with her curls dropping on her shoulders.

Message:

Don't forget the face. She's Channel Holland. In case you forget. Contact me the second she walks in. My men are ready.