ã€ŠOne Night Stand With My Ex&#x27;s Uncleã€‹


 Chapter 1: The Night After Never

    <h4>Chapter 1: The Night After Never</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I tilted my head back, surrendering to the intoxicating rhythm of being lifted and dropped, over and over, in a frenzy that bordered on violent. The sensation was dizzying, decadent like falling without fear.

    In the haze of pleasure, a sharp truth sliced through me: I, Anna Shaw, who once swore Jack Simpson would be my first and only, was now tangled in sheets with a stranger I hadn¡¯t even asked the name of.

    And the most shocking part? I loved every second of it.

    He moved with skill confident and unrelenting. Each thrust was deliberate, hard and thick, like he was trying to break me apart just to reconstruct someone new. My thoughts blurred, except one: next time, maybe I¡¯ll pick someone gentler to fuck me.

    My nails sank into his shoulders, tracing the taut shift of muscle beneath his skin. The room spun as I let go, drowning in a tidal wave of pleasure I¡¯d denied myself for far too long. He drove into me harder, deeper, and my body clenched around him like he was the only thing anchoring me to earth. My release came sharp and sudden, so intense I nearly cked out.

    The shrill ring of my phone dragged me back to the present.

    I blinked at the ceiling unfamiliar, sterile, expensive.

    "Ms. Shaw, don¡¯t forget about the wine tasting this afternoon at three. The socialmittee will be expecting you," came Rachel¡¯s voice crisp, efficient, and far too awake.

    Of course, they¡¯d schedule something right after my divorce was finalized. Like vultures circling, eager for proof that Anna Shaw couldn¡¯t stand on her own. Predictable.

    "I¡¯ll be there," I said, ending the call with a sigh. One o¡¯clock. I¡¯d overslept.

    As I shifted to sit up, an arm looped tightly around my waist, drawing me against a bare chest. I froze.

    It was oddly intimate too intimate for daylight.

    "Let go," I said, my voice sharper than intended. I pushed his arm away, fingers brushing muscle that triggered a vivid sh ofst night. Those arms had hoisted me effortlessly, holding me midair as if gravity no longer mattered.

    Heat bloomed in my cheeks.

    I slipped out of bed.

    He remained asleep, half his face buried in the pillow. All I could see was the sharp line of his jaw and the shadow ofshes against his cheek.

    I escaped to the bathroom, showered quickly, and dressed. When I returned, he was awake leaning by the window, wrapped in nothing but a towel, a cigarette dangling between his fingers as he stared out at the skyline.

    Broad shoulders. Tapered waist. Sculpted back. The Olympus Club hadn¡¯t exaggerated their "premium" offerings.

    I scribbled a check, ced it on the table.

    "Last night was satisfying. Five stars," I said coolly, then added, "And next time, don¡¯t smoke in front of me."

    I didn¡¯t wait for a reply. I walked out.

    Rachel was already waiting by the car. Her eyes widened as she took in the bruises blooming across my neck and corbone.

    "Ms. Shaw... your neck¡ª"

    I knew. My body was a canvas of red marks and love bites. Note to self: add a no-marking use next time. My skin always betrayed me.

    "Did you bring the clothes?" I asked, brushing past the concern in her voice.

    She handed me a paper bag. I changed in the backseat without shame and reapplied my makeup like armor. The diamond tassel earrings glinted as I fastened them, the final touch to my transformation.

    Rachel caught my eye in the mirror. I saw the hesitation, the gentle worry.

    "Ms. Shaw... maybe you should skip this," she offered. "Those women this isn¡¯t support. It¡¯s a spectacle."

    I closed my eyes briefly.

    "No," I said. "They think I can¡¯t survive without a man. I¡¯m going to educate them."

    A smile yed on my lips. Let them see the new Anna Shaw not broken, but reborn.

    One hourter, I stepped out at the private club. My ck dress hugged every curve, a tailored zer draped over my shoulders. Heads turned. Conversations dulled to a hum.

    "Anna Shaw? I can¡¯t believe she showed up. Didn¡¯t her husband leave her?" whispered one woman with oversized pearl earrings.

    "She¡¯s still the same beauty queen," another scoffed. "Just without the crown or the man."

    "She got dumped for that project manager. Lucy-someone, wasn¡¯t it?"

    "She was too focused on her career. Men don¡¯t want ambition they want softness."

    "Rumor is... she couldn¡¯t satisfy him in bed."

    Theirughter was brittle and bright, like ss shattering.

    I smiled.

    I picked up a champagne flute, walked through the crowd like I owned it.

    "This round¡¯s on me,dies," I said. "Enjoy yourselves."

    "What¡¯s the asion, Ms. Shaw?" one woman asked, voice edged in condescension.

    I raised my ss. "Freedom. Some of you might want to try it."

    Their marriages were crumbling quietly. Mine had exploded. At least I had the courage to walk away from the ashes.

    Then Rachel appeared, discreetly holding my phone.

    "Ms. Shaw... Mr. Simpson is calling."

 Chapter 2: Terms & Conditions

    <h4>Chapter 2: Terms & Conditions</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I stumbled into what used to be home, kicking off my heels and copsing onto the velvet sofa, still wrapped in my coat. My head was swimming from the champagne, but I was sober enough to deal with my ex-husband.

    Jack stood in the kitchen doorway, brows furrowed. "Have you been drinking?"

    I didn¡¯t bother responding. Once, I would have craved that concern in his eyes. Now, it just seemed pathetic. Our divorce was final who was this performance for?

    "What do you want? Just say it," I said without looking at him, wanting this conversation over before it began.

    I felt his gaze linger on my wless makeup and smiled inwardly. Had he expected to find me wasting away after the divorce, instead of glowing with a confidence I¡¯d sharpened like a de?

    "There are issues with the joint project between ourpanies that need your attention..." he said evenly, as if assigning a routine task.

    I burst outughing. "You want me to fix it? Are you delusional, Mr. Simpson?" My voice dripped with sarcasm. "Your girlfriend is the project manager. How appropriate would it be to have your ex-wife clean up her mess?"

    The mention of her reopened the wound.

    That project had been built on countless sleepless nights my team, my strategy, my vision. And he handed it over to his new me with a single word. Just like that.

    In that moment, I realized that all the love I¡¯d poured into our marriage had been like water thrown into the ocean unseen, unnoticed, and swallowed whole.

    "I have no obligation to help," I said coldly, turning to leave.

    But just then, the door opened and several strangers stepped inside, followed by a middle-aged couple dressed in designerbels.

    Jack¡¯s expression darkened. "Who are you? How do they have keys to my house?"

    "Oh, I forgot to mention," I said with a light smile. "They¡¯re real estate agents. I¡¯ve listed the house."

    He stared at me, stunned. "Anna, you¡¯re selling our marital home?"

    "What else?" I met his gaze with razor calm. "We¡¯re divorced. Why would I keep a ce that only reminds me of all my mistakes?"

    The words rolled off my tongue like silk, but inside, exhaustion tugged at my bones. This house had been filled with too many broken promises, too many nights spent waiting for a man who never really saw me.

    "The new owners seem nice," I added, nodding at the couple now inspecting the living room with sharp, investor eyes. "I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll appreciate all the renovations you never got around to doing."

    Jack¡¯s jaw tightened. "You can¡¯t just¡ª"

    "I can," I cut him off. "And I did."

    I turned to leave, but paused at the door. "Oh, and Jack? About the Phoenix Project? Ask your darling Lucy to handle it."

    After I left, I called Rachel. "Take me to Goldenleaf Manor," I said. "I¡¯m not going back to the Shaw Estate tonight."

    I couldn¡¯t face the look in my mother¡¯s eyes. Not the pity, not the disappointment she tried so hard to hide.

    When we arrived, the elderly butler greeted me warmly at the entrance. "Wee back, Miss Annie." He took my coat with gentle hands, his voice carrying a kind of care I hadn¡¯t heard in a long time.

    "I¡¯m exhausted. Have someonee up for a massage," I said as I climbed the stairs, slipping off my earrings and handing them to Rachel, who followed closely.

    "Of course, Ms. Shaw. I¡¯ll also have soup sent up," she replied, epting the jewelry with both hands.

    Immersed in the warm bath, the tension began to melt from my limbs. The masseuse¡¯s skilled hands kneaded at the tightness in my back until I nearly drifted off.

    When her fingers brushed over the faint bruises and bite marks scattered across my skin, there was only a brief pause. She didn¡¯t ask questions. This was why I preferred Goldenleaf Manor its staff knew what to notice and what to forget.

    "Water temperature¡¯s good?" she asked softly.

    "Perfect," I murmured, eyes closed.

    Rachel returned carrying a tray of soup. "Ms. Shaw, shall I arrange your schedule for tomorrow?"

    "Clear everything before noon," I said, standing and wrapping a thick towel around my body. "I need to sleep in."

    Later, I settled into a plush chair, sighing as the masseuse worked on my shoulders. A quiet moan escaped when her thumbs dug into a particrly tight knot.

    Then, my phone buzzed.

    "Five-star review?"

    The message shed across my lock screen, unsigned, unexpected.

    I frowned. "Five-star review?"

    Suddenly, a face surfaced in my memory strong arms, dark eyes, and a clean-cut jawline.

    "What was his name again? Sean...?" I asked.

    "Sean Smith, Ms. Shaw. You also said you liked his name," Rachel said.

    "I did?" I narrowed my eyes. "I don¡¯t remember."

    Last night had been a blur. Catherine Murphy had dragged me to Olympus Club to celebrate my divorce. They presented a lineup of gorgeous young men. I chose Sean barely out of college, polite, untouched by the world.

    Later, drunk and reckless, I spent the night with him. No regrets.

    Jack Simpson had burned all my illusions about love and loyalty. So why not take pleasure on my own terms?

    "Rachel," I said, stretching. "Contact Sean Smith tomorrow. Tell him I¡¯m interested in retaining his services long-term. Full medical checkup required. And tell him to quit smoking."

    "Yes, Ms. Shaw," she answered without blinking.

    I leaned back with a smile.

    Let the new terms begin.

 Chapter 3: Bruises in All the Right Places

    <h4>Chapter 3: Bruises in All the Right ces</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I was still in bed when Rachel¡¯s voice sliced through the quiet. "Ms. Shaw, your mother requests your immediate presence at home." She paused, her voice carefully neutral. "Mr. Simpson is there."

    Just like that, my good mood evaporated.

    "Jack?" I sat up, irritation creeping into my voice. "Let me guess¡ªhe¡¯s there to dump his mess on my doorstep?"

    "Should I arrange the car?"

    "Yes. And Rachel?" I swung my legs over the side of the bed. "Clear my afternoon schedule. I have a feeling this won¡¯t be quick."

    It infuriated me. When Jack and I were married, he barely visited my mother. Now that we were divorced, he suddenly felt entitled to show up uninvited likely for the sake of his lover, not my family.

    The drive to my family estate gave me just enough time topose myself. No matter what Jack wanted, I was no longer his cleanup crew.

    My mother was already waiting in the foyer when I arrived, her expression a familiar blend of worry and fragile hope.

    My mother and grandmother both relieved to see me were the backbone of this house, though neither would admit it. With no men left in our family since my grandfather passed shortly after I was born, and my father¡¯s death in a car ident when I was eighteen, I had be the one they leaned on. Jack had always known that. He saw my control, mistook my softness around them for weakness. That¡¯s why he dared toe here. He thought I¡¯d give in.

    I slipped into the slippers the maid handed me, shrugged off my jacket, and took a calming breath.

    I didn¡¯t even have a chance to speak before Jack stormed toward me, grabbing my arm. His gaze fell on my neck and stopped. His expression twisted.

    "What¡¯s that on your neck?" His voice dropped, dangerously low.

    The faint hickey hadn¡¯t faded. A small, purple mark. I had half a mind to unt it.

    Iughed softly. "Really, Jack? That¡¯s what you came here to discuss?"

    His grip tightened. "Who was it? Who dared to¡ª"

    I yanked my arm free, my smile icy. "Who dared? That¡¯s riching from you. Do I need to remind you who spent our wedding night between someone else¡¯s legs while I sat alone?"

    "Anna!" My mother rushed in, ever the peacemaker. "Jack came to visit your grandmother and me. He¡¯s a guest in our home."

    I counted to ten. "Fine. Then let¡¯s get to it. The Phoenix Project, right?"

    Jack opened his mouth, hesitated, then gestured vaguely at my neck again. "How could you do this to me?"

    "To you?" I raised a brow. "Jack, what exactly do you think I owe you?"

    "You better pray I don¡¯t find that man. I¡¯ll make him regret touching you."

    He didn¡¯t say another word about the project just stormed out like a spoiled child denied his toy.

    After lunch with my mother and grandmother where the housekeeper brought out my favorite soup I started to feel normal again.

    "Anna," my mother said gently, setting down her spoon. "Do you... have a new boyfriend?"

    I smirked into my wine ss. "Not exactly."

    "You and Jack there¡¯s really no chance?"

    "Elizabeth," my grandmother cut in, "enough. The world is full of men better than that one. Our Anna deserves happiness, not leftovers."

    I leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Thank you, Grandmother. You always know exactly what to say."

    After lunch, I changed and headed to the office. I had a video conference about an investment issue with one of Shaw Corp¡¯s subsidiaries. The moment the call started, chaos erupted.

    "Ms. Shaw," a manager stammered, "we tried our best to¡ª"

    "Clearly your best isn¡¯t good enough," I interrupted coolly. "If you can¡¯t handle responsibility at this level, resign. I¡¯ll ensure you receive six months¡¯ severance and the full contractual penalty."

    Daniel buzzed in. "Ms. Shaw, the Phoenix Project lead is requesting ten minutes of your time."

    "No," I replied without missing a beat. "If it¡¯s our fault, heads will roll. If it¡¯s theirs, they can clean it up. And if Lucy¡¯s ipetence costs us money, Jack can pay every penny."

    Later, Rachel reported in. "Ms. Shaw, Sean Smith¡¯s medical exam isplete. Shall we prepare Goldenleaf Manor?"

    I raised a brow. "So soon?"

    "We also heard that news of you ¡¯adopting¡¯ Sean has the entire Olympus Club buzzing. They¡¯re envious you¡¯re young, beautiful, rich, and newly divorced. If Sean falls in love with you, he¡¯ll have luxury for life."

    Iughed lightly. I didn¡¯t take it seriously but a part of me did enjoy how the world whispered when I moved.

    "Put him in Rosa Vi," I said. "Goldenleaf is my space. I don¡¯t bring outsiders there."

    Three dayster, fresh off a business trip, I stepped into the shower and my thoughts drifted to Sean. I found myself remembering his mouth, the way he moved, the softness of his voice after.

    Impulsively, I drove to the vi.

    I found him in the garden, crouched near the flower beds. His frame seemed slim slimmer than I remembered. I tilted my head, doubt creeping in. Was this really the man who had lifted me, held me down, made my body sing?

    His wrists were barely thicker than mine.

    Could this body really throw me against a wall?

 Chapter 4: Mistaken Bodies, Unexpected Bonds

    <h4>Chapter 4: Mistaken Bodies, Unexpected Bonds</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV:

    I sat in the vi¡¯s living room, legs crossed, the quiet elegance of the space offering a calm I didn¡¯t feel. The door opened, and Rachel led Sean in.

    The young man who stepped inside was indeed the face I remembered from Olympus Club soft features,posed expression, respectful posture. But despite the familiar exterior, something felt... off.

    He wiped his hands on a white towel as he approached, his voice soft and formal. "Ms. Shaw, you¡¯re here."

    I studied him carefully. Clean-cut, well-mannered, and calm exactly how I remembered him. And yet, a faint thread of doubt tugged at me. Something didn¡¯t line up.

    "Come, sit down. Let¡¯s talk." I smiled, masking the unease in my chest as I gestured to the armchair across from me.

    He sat gracefully, hands resting naturally on his legs, and his eyes met mine clear, steady, unbothered by status or wealth. That was what had drawn me to him in the first ce at Olympus Club. That sense offort. Of quiet charm.

    But as the silence stretched, something stood out. I frowned. "Where are the servants? There¡¯s no tea, no water..."

    Before Rachel could respond, Sean answered gently, "I dismissed the staff. I thought you might prefer privacy, Ms. Shaw. I apologize if I overstepped."

    He stood before I could respond. "Allow me to make you a cup of coffee."

    I blinked, slightly taken aback. While I demanded excellence in business, I was far more rxed in my personal life. The vi was technically his space now if he wanted to run it like his own, I had no objections. I watched him move through the kitchen like he belonged there.

    When he returned, he set a delicate porcin cup in front of me. One sip, and I raised my brows Mhiato, no sugar. Just the way I liked it.

    Impressive.

    He sat quietly across from me, hands in hisp again. Smart. Perceptive. Easy on the eyes. And clearlypetent.

    I took another sip. "Have you quit smoking?" I asked, half-teasing, half-curious.

    He looked confused. "Ms. Shaw, I¡¯ve never smoked."

    My hand froze mid-air. A chill traced my spine. "Never?" I asked slowly.

    He shook his head, visibly confused now. "No. My father was diagnosed with lung cancer when I was sixteen. I¡¯ve always stayed away from cigarettes."

    I turned toward Rachel, my brows furrowed.

    Rachel, calm andposed as ever, nodded. "Ms. Shaw, it¡¯s true. His mother passed two years ago. His father is terminal. He worked at an investment firm before switching to Olympus Club to pay the bills."

    I felt the color drain from my face.

    No smoking. A lean frame. A soft-spoken voice.

    He wasn¡¯t the man I¡¯d slept with that night.

    The man from Olympus Club had been strong¡ªhis body hard, movements confident. He smelled of smoke and sandalwood. This wasn¡¯t him.

    I had made a mistake.

    I stood. "Take off your shirt."

    Sean hesitated. His cheeks flushed as he stood, clearly reluctant, but he didn¡¯t protest. He began to unbutton his shirt with quietpliance.

    When thest button fell away, my doubts were confirmed.

    His chest was smooth. Slender. Barely any muscle definition. I stepped forward, pressing a finger lightly against his chest, then squeezing his upper arm.

    Too soft. Too thin. Too fragile.

    The man I¡¯d slept with had lifted me like I weighed nothing. Had moved like he could break me¡ªand almost did. This body wasn¡¯t capable of that.

    I had slept with the wrong person.

    How had I messed this up?

    I picked up my phone and shot a message to Catherine. Within moments, my phone buzzed with her call.

    "You really did sleep with the wrong guy?" she asked, bewildered.

    "I was drunk," I sighed, pressing my fingers to my temple. "My memory¡¯s foggy. I didn¡¯t even look properly the next morning. I had to rush to that tea party."

    "Oh, Anna..." Catherine groaned. "You¡¯ve really done it now."

    After hanging up, Rachel cleared her throat gently. "Ms. Shaw, Sean is still downstairs. How should we proceed?"

    I looked through the stair railing. He was still in the living room, shirt back on, standing awkwardly with his hands by his sides.

    I sighed.

    I had only taken him in because I thought he was that man. The one who¡¯d rocked my world and left me breathless.

    But Sean... Sean was not that man.

    Still, Rachel¡¯s voice cut into my thoughts, hesitant. "Ms. Shaw, the Olympus Club staff all know he was chosen by you. If you send him back now... he¡¯ll be humiliated. Once someone is sent back, they¡¯re never chosen again. His reputation will be destroyed."

    I hadn¡¯t considered that.

    A mistake on my part had given him a thread of hope and now I was about to take it away. That wasn¡¯t just careless. It was cruel.

    I looked down at Sean¡¯s worried expression, his gaze full of uncertainty.

    He had no idea how close he was to losing everything.

    A moment of silence passed. Then I made my decision.

    I walked down the stairs, heels echoing on the marble. "Sean, you can stay."

    His eyes widened in disbelief. "Ms. Shaw...?"

    "Rachel," I said, not breaking eye contact with him, "get in touch with the best hospitals in the city. Specialists, treatment programs whatever his father needs. I¡¯ll cover the cost."

    Sean¡¯s eyes shimmered, and for a second, his lips parted like he couldn¡¯t find the words.

    "Thank you," he said finally, voice barely above a whisper.

    I gave him a small nod, then turned away.

    He wasn¡¯t the man I thought he was. But maybe, just maybe, that wasn¡¯t such a bad thing after all.

 Chapter 5: Smoke & Bids

    <h4>Chapter 5: Smoke & Bids</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "Rachel, give him some new outfits," I added casually, ncing at Sean without much expression. "If he¡¯s going to apany me in public, he needs a proper formal suit. Make sure it¡¯s tailored."

    I wasn¡¯t nning to keep him around forever, but for now, he was under my roof, and I wouldn¡¯t mistreat someone I¡¯d brought in myself even if it had all been a mistake.

    Pulling a sleek ck bank card from my purse, I held it out to Sean. He hesitated before epting it with both hands.

    "This is for your living expenses. The password is written on the back. I¡¯ve been busytely, so you¡¯ll have to arrange your schedule freely. But remember one thing stay clean. No trouble. Use this time to learn how to behave in society. There¡¯s more to life than simply following orders."

    Without waiting for his response, I turned on my heels and left.

    I had an auction to attend. A significant one, in fact. It was whispered that several rare and priceless items would be featured tonight. The kind of event that drew the city¡¯s most influential yers like moths to a me.

    Outside the venue, luxury cars rolled in one after another, their chrome reflections glinting beneath the chandelier-like streemps. Cameras shed. The red carpet was already abuzz with reporters and stylists. The air was thick with money and perfume.

    "Ms. Shaw, the auction starts in twenty minutes," Rachel reminded me, holding a sleek tablet in one hand. "Your private box is prepped."

    I gave a short nod, smoothing down the folds of my midnight-blue gown. Everything was in ce. Or so I thought until fate decided to p me across the face.

    Coming down the stairs, all confident smiles and cloying charm, were Jack and Lucy Taylor.

    I stopped in my tracks, irritation prickling beneath my skin. Why here? Why now?

    Lucy was dressed in a tastelessly shy gown, diamonds glittering like a chandelier had exploded across her chest. Her fake smile was practically carved into her cheeks. Typical.

    Jack, however, had the audacity to speak first, his voice thick with sarcasm.

    "Well, what a surprise," he drawled. "Shouldn¡¯t you be at Olympus Club tonight?"

    I narrowed my eyes at him. "Shouldn¡¯t you be busy trying to fix the mess at Phoenix Corp? Or are you too preupied babysitting your gold-digger?"

    His face darkened instantly. "You didn¡¯t deny it. So it¡¯s true you went to that kind of ce? You slept with a man there? How could you, Anna? Do you have no shame?"

    Before I could respond, his grip mped down hard on my arm, the sting immediate. He had no right.

    I ground my heel into the top of his foot, hard enough to make him flinch, and spat, "You lost the right to lecture me the moment you slept with Lucy while still married to me. I was already divorced when I went. You, on the other hand, were cheating while I was still wearing your ring."

    Gasps echoed around us. A few phones went up, recording. I didn¡¯t care.

    This was our mess, and he had chosen to drag it into the public eye.

    Without another word, I swept past them, Rachel following quickly behind. As the velvet doors closed behind us, a small, satisfied smile tugged at my lips.

    Petty, but satisfying.

    Inside, my private VIP box overlooked the auction floor through one-way ss. The seats were plush leather, and the lighting was dim and luxurious. Rachel took her ce beside me and pulled up the catalog.

    "The sapphire bracelet is first. It would be a perfect gift for Margaret¡¯s birthday."

    I nodded, barely listening. My eyes had already scanned ahead to Lot 47.

    A mansion in the old Cin Skke District.

    My mother¡¯s childhood home.

    A wave of emotion washed over me nostalgia, longing, determination. That house was more than property. It was legacy. My legacy.

    The auction began. A parade of glittering art, antique watches, and absurdly priced jewelry passed by. Jack, ever the peacock, won a pearl ne for Lucy at five million dors. She kissed him like she was in a soap opera.

    How tasteless can one couple be?

    Then came the sapphire bracelet. I raised my paddle, expecting a smooth acquisition.

    But Jack¡¯s paddle went up too.

    Again. And again.

    This was deliberate. He knew it was for Margaret. He was trying to spite me.

    "Fifteen million," Rachel whispered, watching me.

    "Twenty," I said clearly. My voice didn¡¯t waver.

    A hush fell over the room. Jack didn¡¯t bid again.

    "Sold to Ms. Shaw!"

    A ripple of apuse. I smiled faintly. One win.

    But the real battle was only just beginning.

    Lot 47 appeared on screen. The Cin Skke mansion. My pulse quickened.

    "Ms. Shaw," Rachel murmured, tense. "What if Mr. Simpson tries to sabotage this too?"

    I sipped my tea calmly. "He might. But the price on this mansion won¡¯t be cheap. He¡¯s petty, but not stupid. It¡¯s not even useful to him."

    I had barely finished speaking when Jack¡¯s voice rang out from the neighboring box.

    "Fifty million."

    My breath caught.

    He was that petty.

    My hands clenched into fists, nails biting into my skin. Rachel turned red with fury. "He¡¯s insane! Why must he take everything you want?"

    I inhaled slowly. "Don¡¯t panic."

    Raising my paddle, I said evenly, "Seventy million."

    A secondter, Jack countered.

    "Eighty million."

    Rachel leaned in. "That¡¯s above our nned cap."

    "I know. But this isn¡¯t just real estate. It¡¯s my mother¡¯s home."

    Just as I was about to raise my paddle again, a voice cut through the air.

    "Two hundred million."

    It came from the VIP box beside mine.

    The entire auction house fell silent. No name. No face. Just a voice. Smooth. Male.

    Powerful.

    Neither Jack nor I raised our paddles again. We couldn¡¯t.

    Jack stormed out with Lucy in a huff, and I watched them go with mixed feelings. The mansion was gone for now but at least Jack didn¡¯t get it either.

    I turned to Rachel. "Find out who that bidder was. I want a name, a face. Everything."

    Just as I stood to leave, the next item shed on screen.

    A small wooden rabbit carving.

    Simple. in. Yet something about it tugged at my memory.

    "Final item of the night," the auctioneer announced. "A personal piece. Starting bid: one million."

    No one raised a paddle.

    One minute passed. Two. Three.

    Then, almost without thinking, I raised mine.

    I bolted as soon as the auction ended, heels clicking against the marble floors. I had to see who was in that box.

    But by the time I reached it, it was already empty.

    All I saw was the back of a tall figure disappearing around a corner, long strides, expensive coat.

    I took a step forward to follow when Jack¡¯s voice cut through the hallway like a de.

    "Why?" he growled, storming toward me. "Why do you always have to fight me on everything?"

    I turned slowly to face him, my expression unreadable.

    The night was far from over.

 Chapter 6: What we Had

    <h4>Chapter 6: What we Had</h4>

    Jack¡¯s POV

    The taste of failure was bitter in my mouth as I watched the mystery bidder im the mansion for two hundred million. I¡¯d lost and worse, I¡¯d failed to stop Anna from getting what she wanted. The thought of her smug satisfaction made my blood boil.

    I stormed out of the auction house, Lucy trailing behind me in her ridiculous evening gown. The night air did nothing to cool my temper. When I spotted Anna¡¯s slim figure heading toward her car, I couldn¡¯t stop myself.

    "Why?" I called out, my voice cutting through the air. "Why do you have to fight me on everything?"

    Anna turned slowly, her expression cold andposed. "That mansion belonged to my mother¡¯s family. But of course, you wouldn¡¯t remember that, would you? I told you about it when we were married."

    The memory hit like a p. She had mentioned it during one of our rare dinners together. I¡¯d been checking emails on my phone, half-listening as she talked about childhood summers there. Damn it.

    "If it meant that much to you, you should¡¯ve said something," I muttered, knowing how weak it sounded.

    "Said something?" Herugh was bitter. "Like I said something when you gave the Phoenix Project to Lucy? When you missed our anniversary? Or maybe when you didn¡¯te home on our wedding night?"

    Each usation hit like a blow. I wanted to defend myself, to exin that things weren¡¯t that simple, but the words wouldn¡¯te.

    "I¡¯m done saying things to you, Jack," she went on, voice steady but cold. "Done exining. Done hoping you¡¯ll understand. Done having any expectations of you at all. We¡¯re divorced. Whatever game you were ying by bidding against me tonight I¡¯m not interested."

    She turned to leave, but I reached out and grabbed her arm. The memory of the mark on her neck shed through my mind, and my grip tightened without thinking.

    "So you run off to Olympus Club instead? Is that your answer?"

    "Let. Go." Her voice was like ice. "What I do and who I do it with is no longer any of your concern."

    I let her go, watching as she walked away, her heels clicking against the pavement. The sight of her leaving again twisted something inside me.

    "Jack?" Lucy¡¯s voice brought me back. She studied my face with narrowed eyes. "Are you falling for her again?"

    "Don¡¯t be ridiculous," I snapped, more harshly than intended. "She¡¯s... she¡¯s shameless. Barely divorced and already sleeping around. Did you see that mark on her neck?"

    Lucy¡¯s perfectly painted lips curved into a knowing smile. "If you say so, darling. Though you seem awfully concerned about who she¡¯s sleeping with."

    "I¡¯m not concerned," I said stiffly, though it sounded hollow. "I just never thought she¡¯d Anna was always so..." I trailed off.

    "So proper? So perfect?" Lucy¡¯s voice dripped with sarcasm. "Maybe you never really knew her at all."

    I watched Anna¡¯s car disappear into the traffic, something ufortable twisting in my chest. The image of her with another man kept ying in my mind along with the memory of her face when she talked about that mansion all those years ago.

    How many other things had I missed?

    How many times had I not really listened?

    "Let¡¯s go," I said abruptly, turning away. "We¡¯re done here."

    After dropping Lucy off, my phone buzzed. A message from my investigator made my blood run cold:

    "Mr. Simpson, there¡¯s no record of Ms. Shaw spending nights with Sean Smith. They¡¯ve never left Olympus Club together."

    Something wasn¡¯t adding up.

    The hickey on Anna¡¯s neck. Her smugness. If it wasn¡¯t Sean... then who?

    I had to know.

    I tracked down Sean¡¯s address at Rosa Vi. The gates opened easily too easily.

    I found him in the garden, tending to flowers like some peaceful gardener instead of the man who¡¯d dared touch my wife. Ex-wife, I reminded myself, the word tasting like poison.

    "Mr. Simpson?" He stood, brushing dirt off his knees. "What brings you here?"

    "Cut the act," I growled, stepping toward him. "Anna told everyone you slept together. Was it worth it? Did you enjoy yourself?"

    His expression shifted. A slight, infuriating smile yed at his lips. "Yes, we did. And yes, I did enjoy myself. Very much."

    His voice was calm. Taunting.

    "Ms. Shaw is quite... passionate."

    The world went red.

    My fist connected with his jaw before I realized I¡¯d moved. He stumbled backward into a row of potted nts.

    "You son of a¡ª"

    "What¡¯s wrong, Mr. Simpson?" He wiped blood from his lip, still smiling. "Jealous?"

    I grabbed his cor and mmed him against the garden wall. "You think this is funny? You think¡ª"

    "JACK! What the hell are you doing?"

    Anna¡¯s voice cut through the rage.

    She came running, Rachel close behind. When she saw Sean¡¯s bloodied face, her expression shifted into something fierce.

    "Get away from him," she ordered, voice low and furious. "NOW."

    I let go, and Sean slumped against the wall.

    "You¡¯re defending him? After he just admitted¡ª"

    Anna knelt beside Sean, helping him up, her touch gentle. It made my stomach turn.

    "Rachel, get Sean inside. Call a doctor."

    Once they were gone, she turned to me, her eyes zing. "How dare youe to my property and assault my employee?"

    "Your employee?" Iughed bitterly. "Is that what we¡¯re calling it now? He just admitted to sleeping with you!"

    "And what if he did?" Her voice was ice. "It¡¯s none of your business who I sleep with anymore. You lost that right when you chose Lucy."

    The words hit harder than expected.

    "So you¡¯re just going to keep him here? Living in luxury while you¡ª"

    "While I what, Jack?" she stepped closer, voice low and dangerous. "While I do exactly what you did to me? Except I waited until after the divorce. I didn¡¯t betray any vows. I didn¡¯t humiliate my spouse in front of the entire city. That was all you."

    "Get rid of him," I snapped, struggling to hold onto my anger as guilt wed in. "If you have any respect for what we had¡ª"

    "What we had?" she cut me off with a bitterugh. "What we had was a marriage where you couldn¡¯t stay faithful for one night our wedding night. What we had was you giving my project to your mistress. What we had is over, Jack. I don¡¯t take orders from you anymore."

    She turned toward the house, then paused.

    "Leave now, or I¡¯ll have security remove you. And Jack? If you ever touch Sean again... I¡¯ll bury you inwsuits so deep, even Lucy won¡¯t find you."

 Chapter 7: The Edge Of Jealousy

    <h4>Chapter 7: The Edge Of Jealousy</h4>

    Jack¡¯s POV

    I stormed out of Rosa Vi, my blood still boiling. The steering wheel creaked under my white-knuckled grip as I navigated through evening traffic.

    The call from Calvin came just in time I needed a drink.

    The usual crowd at Murphy¡¯s Bar parted before me like the Red Sea. One look at my face and they knew to keep their distance. Calvin and Luke had already secured our regr booth, and mercifully, they¡¯d cleared out the usual hangers-on.

    "Rough day?" Calvin pushed a ss of whiskey toward me.

    I downed it in one go. "You could say that."

    Luke leaned forward, lowering his voice. "So... is it true? About Anna and that guy from Olympus Club?"

    The ss mmed onto the table harder than I intended. "You want to repeat that?"

    "Easy," Calvin raised his hands. "We¡¯re just concerned. The whole city¡¯s talking about it."

    "The whole city needs to shut their damn mouths," I growled. "She¡¯s still my¡ª" I caught myself, but not fast enough.

    "Your what?" Luke¡¯s eyebrows shot up. "Your ex-wife? The one you cheated on?"

    "It¡¯s not that simple," I muttered, signaling for another drink.

    "Oh?" Calvin¡¯s voice dripped with sarcasm. "Seems pretty simple to me. You screwed up, she divorced you, and now you¡¯re mad because she¡¯s moving on."

    "I¡¯m not mad because¡ª" I stopped, frustrated. "Look, even if we¡¯re divorced, she¡¯s still Anna. She shouldn¡¯t be... with someone like that."

    "Someone like what?" Luke pressed.

    "Young? Attractive? Not married to someone else?"

    I shot him a warning re, but he just shrugged. "Face it, Jack. You¡¯re jealous."

    "That¡¯s ridiculous," I scoffed, but the words tasted hollow. "I¡¯m with Lucy now. I¡¯m happy."

    "Sure," Calvin nodded, not even trying to hide his skepticism. "That¡¯s why you¡¯re sitting here brooding about who Anna¡¯s sleeping with."

    My phone buzzed, interrupting the conversation. My mother¡¯s name shed across the screen.

    "Jack," her voice was pitched higher than usual a sure sign of excitement. "Your Uncle Marcus is back from Europe! He just called your father. We¡¯re having a family dinner tomorrow at the Murphy Estate."

    My stomach dropped. Marcus Murphy, my mother¡¯s youngest brother, the golden child of the Murphy family.

    Harvard Ph.D. in Economics and Business Administration by twenty-eight. By thirty, he¡¯d expanded our family¡¯s holdings in Europe more than tenfold. Athletic, brilliant, and perpetually single the standard against which all other Murphy men were measured and found wanting.

    "Tomorrow?" I managed to keep my voice steady. "I¡¯ll be there."

    "You¡¯d better be," she warned. "And Jack? Try to... well, you know how your uncle is. Maybe don¡¯t mention the divorce. Or Lucy..."

    "Thanks, Mom," I cut her off, already feeling a headache building. "I got it."

    I hung up and stared into my drink. Every family gathering was the same Marcus¡¯stest achievements held up as an example of what a real Murphy could aplish.

    "Uncle Marcus is back?" Calvin asked, noting my expression.

    "Yeah." I gestured for another drink. "Tomorrow¡¯s going to be hell."

    "The famous Marcus Murphy," Luke whistled. "Didn¡¯t he set some kind of record at Harvard? Perfect GPA while captaining three varsity teams?"

    "Four," I corrected automatically, the statistics burned into my brain from years of family dinners. "Economics, Business, perfect GMAT, runs marathons, speaks sixnguages..." I trailed off, remembering all the times I¡¯d beenpared to him. "And now he¡¯s back just in time to witness the mess I¡¯ve made of everything."

    "Any idea who bought that mansion at the auction?" Calvin asked, mercifully changing the subject.

    "No," I weed the distraction. "Some mystery bidder in the VIP box. Two hundred million, just like that." I thought of Anna¡¯s face when she lost it, that flicker of genuine pain she tried to hide. "It was her mother¡¯s family home. I should have remembered that."

    "There¡¯s a lot of things you should have remembered about Anna," Luke muttered.

    I didn¡¯t argue. He was right.

    I ordered another drink.

    Tomorrow was going to be a very long day.

    Sean¡¯s POV

    My jaw throbbed where Jack¡¯s fist had connected, but the pain felt distant, overshadowed by the memory of Anna standing between us, her voice sharp with anger as she defended me. Me the man who had just lied about sleeping with her.

    "Let me take you to the hospital," she insisted, her brow furrowed with concern. "That needs to be looked at."

    I shook my head, keeping my eyes fixed on the ground. I couldn¡¯t trust myself to look directly at her, not when she was being so kind, not when her presence made my heart race in ways I had no right to feel. "It¡¯s nothing serious, Ms. Shaw. Just bruising."

    "Sean." The way she said my name made my chest tighten. "Don¡¯t be stubborn. We should at least have a doctor check¡ª"

    "Please," I managed, still avoiding her gaze. "I¡¯m fine, really." I don¡¯t deserve your concern. Not after what I just did.

    She sighed, and I could feel her studying me. If I looked up now, I¡¯d see those eyes intelligent, prating, beautiful. The eyes that had first caught my attention at Olympus Club, before I understood who she was, before I knew I¡¯d be living in her vi, before I told that lie to her ex-husband.

    I hadn¡¯t nned to say it. When Jack confronted me, something inside me snapped. Maybe it was the way he acted like he still owned her, or maybe it was just my own buried feelings surfacing in a moment of madness.

    Whatever the reason, I¡¯d looked him in the eye and confirmed his suspicions, practically bragging about something that had never happened.

    And then she¡¯d defended me. Not because she knew I was telling the truth she must have known I was lying but because she felt responsible for me.

    The realization made me feel simultaneously ted and ashamed.

    "At least let me leave you something for medical expenses," she said, pulling out her checkbook.

    I wanted to refuse, but I knew better than to argue.

    "Thank you, Ms. Shaw." I forced myself to sound professional, detached. It was easier that way.

    She scribbled out the check, then hesitated. "Sean... what you said to Jack..."

    My heart stopped. This was it she¡¯d call me out on the lie, fire me, send me back to Olympus Club in disgrace.

    But she just shook her head slightly and ced the check on the table.

    "Just... be careful around him. He can be vtile when he¡¯s angry."

    Then she was gone, her heels clicking across the floor, leaving behind only the lingering scent of her perfume and a check with more zeros than I¡¯d ever seen in my life.

 Chapter 8: The Return Of Marcus Murphy

    <h4>Chapter 8: The Return Of Marcus Murphy</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I was savoring a rare moment of peace during my spa treatment when my phone buzzed. The masseuse paused as I reached for it, instantly recognizing my mother¡¯s name on the screen.

    "Anna, darling," she greeted me with that familiar spark in her voice. "William Murphy¡¯s youngest son, Marcus, has returned from Europe! They¡¯re hosting a family dinner tomorrow at the Murphy Estate."

    My muscles tensed so much for rxation. "Mother, I barely know Marcus Murphy. And the Simpsons will be there." The thought of seeing Jack and his new family made my stomach twist. "I really don¡¯t think ¡ª"

    "Anna," she cut in gently, "your grandmother and I will be at church tomorrow, praying. But you should attend. William¡¯s always been so good to us."

    She wasn¡¯t wrong. What we owed William Murphy ran deeper than polite social obligations. My thoughts drifted back six years before my marriage to Jack, before it all crumbled.

    I had been leaving a caf¨¦ when I saw an elderly man stumble on the sidewalk, clutching his chest. Everyone else ignored him, too absorbed in their own lives. But I couldn¡¯t walk past. I rushed him to the hospital. That man was William Murphy. Back then, he was just a powerful name in Skyview City someone far removed from my world. But that day changed everything.

    He had suffered a heart attack, and doctors said that if he¡¯d arrived even ten minutester, it might¡¯ve been fatal. From that point on, William took a special interest in my family, especially after learning about my father¡¯s death. When he realized my feelings for Jack, he personally arranged for us to meet. He was the reason our paths ever crossed.

    "I know, Mother," I sighed, the memories washing over me. "William¡¯s been wonderful."

    "He treats you like a daughter," she reminded me softly. "And now his favorite son is home..."

    There was a hopeful lilt in her voice, and I couldn¡¯t help but chuckle. "Mother, please. I¡¯ve never even met Marcus Murphy. Catherine talks about him, but that¡¯s all."

    Well, that wasn¡¯t entirely true. Everyone knew of Marcus Murphy the golden boy of Skyview¡¯s most elite family. A Harvard prodigy. A business titan. A star athlete. He¡¯d been in Europe for years, building a name for himself. I vaguely remembered Catherine mentioning he came back once six years ago for some girl. The details were fuzzy.

    "Juste to the dinner," my mother pleaded. "For William."

    I exhaled. I already knew I¡¯d say yes. "Fine. I¡¯ll be there."

    After ending the call, I let my head sink back into the massage table. Another night of watching Jack and Lucy put on their happy-couple act. Another round of Mary Simpson¡¯s passive-aggressive jabs. But William had stood by me during my darkest times. I owed him this much.

    "Rachel," I called, knowing she¡¯d be close. "I need a new dress for tomorrow night."

    As she got to work, I tried to recall what Catherine had said about her elusive uncle. Brilliant, but distant. Cold in business, warm with family. And still single, even at thirty-two. One of Europe¡¯s most eligible bachelors, yet no scandal, no wife.

    Well... at the very least, tomorrow¡¯s dinner might be interesting. If Jack behaved himself. If Mary didn¡¯t push my buttons. If Lucy kept her act to herself.

    The next day, I timed my arrival at Murphy Estate with precision so I thought. As I pulled up to the grand gates, I spotted Catherine hurrying toward the entrance, visibly flustered and glued to her phone.

    "Anna!" She grabbed my arm, looking relieved. "Thank God. I need a favor."

    I raised an eyebrow. Catherine Murphy never looked anything less than perfect, but today, her designer dress was slightly wrinkled and her lipstick was faded.

    "What¡¯s going on with you?"

    "If anyone asks, I¡¯ve been with you the past few days. Shopping, spa dates make it sound believable," she said quickly, fixing her lipstick in her phone camera.

    I bit back a smile. "New boyfriend?"

    Her blush answered for her. "Shut up. Don¡¯t tell anyone."

    As we strolled through the manicured garden, Skyview¡¯s elite mingled on thewn. The Murphy family¡¯s gatherings were legendary, always filled with the city¡¯s most powerful names.

    Then I saw them Mary Simpson and Lucy Taylor, arm in arm near the rose garden,ughing like mother and daughter. My stomach twisted.

    "Can you believe that?" Catherine whispered. "My aunt¡¯s practically adopted her. William is going to lose it when he sees this."

    Lucy noticed me and lit up with that familiar fake warmth. She tugged Mary along as she made a beeline for us.

    "Anna!" she called, her voice syrupy sweet. "So wonderful to see you!"

    I saw right through it. She wanted to look innocent like even Jack¡¯s ex-wife was on friendly terms with her. It was a PR stunt. She was using me to legitimize herself.

    "I don¡¯t think so," I said coldly, turning away before she reached me.

    Beside me, Catherine stifled augh.

 Chapter 9: Echo of a Night Forgotten

    <h4>Chapter 9: Echo of a Night Forgotten</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    As we stepped into the grand hall of the Murphy Estate, the buzz of conversation dulled beneath William Murphy¡¯s booming voice.

    "Come,e! You must meet Marcus!"

    The crowd parted like a curtain, revealing a man standing tall, his gaze cutting through the air like a de. His eyesnded on me for a single, electric moment then flicked away just as quickly, as if I were insignificant.

    Something about him made the room feel smaller. Marcus Murphy was striking, yes but it was more than looks. He carried himself like a man who owned every room he walked into.

    He couldn¡¯t have been older than thirty-two, but the aura he exuded was heavy with experience. His tailored suit fit with the effortless precision of someone who¡¯d worn power like a second skin for most of his life. He wasn¡¯t like Jack. Jack had polish, but Marcus had presence.

    "Anna, my dear!" William¡¯s warm tone pulled me back. He took both my hands in his, his eyes crinkling with affection.

    "Marcus, this is Anna Shaw. She¡¯s the one who saved my life, remember? A brilliant woman she¡¯s done incredible work with Shaw Corp."

    I caught the deliberate nces around the room, especially from the Simpsons. William was sending a message loud and clear: I still mattered.

    "You must call him Uncle Marcus," he added, chuckling. "Just like Catherine does. You¡¯re still family."

    Marcus¡¯s lips curved slightly not quite a smile, more a studied reaction.

    "Indeed. Very impressive," he said, voice deep and controlled. Thepliment was measured, but not false.

    "Your reputation precedes you as well," I replied smoothly. "Catherine speaks highly of your achievements in Europe."

    We exchanged pleasantries, but I couldn¡¯t shake the weight of his gaze, the way he seemed to watch and analyze everyone nespecially me while giving away absolutely nothing.

    Later, when the social niceties had been fulfilled, I made my polite exit. William pulled me into a fond embrace, whispering, "Don¡¯t be a stranger, my dear."

    As I left the hall, I nearly bumped into Jack. Our eyes met for a brief moment his unreadable, mine tired and for once, he let me go without a word.

    Maybe he¡¯s finally letting go, I thought, though the thought left a strange ache I didn¡¯t want to examine.

    I slid into the car. "Rosa Vi," I instructed my driver.

    Sean had been waiting patiently. Discreet, charming, uplicated everything my life wasn¡¯t. I owed him a bit more of my attention.

    But even as we drove, my thoughts drifted back to Marcus Murphy¡¯s eyes. Eyes that had looked right through me... and yet, left me feeling seen.

    Marcus¡¯s POV

    The moment she stepped into the hall, I watched her carefully, studying every inch of her face for a flicker of recognition.

    There was none.

    Her gaze didn¡¯t linger, didn¡¯t hesitate. She saw me but not me.

    Anna Shaw had no idea that the man she once begged for more at Olympus Club was standing right in front of her.

    But I remembered everything. Her scent Jasmineced with vani hit me like a memory made flesh. That night had never left me.

    She¡¯d been with Catherine, clearly unraveling from the weight of her divorce. I¡¯d been there on business, speaking to the club¡¯s owner. When her friend suggested hiringpany for the night, I saw my chance.

    It was reckless. Stupid, even. But for a man like me, who ns everything... Anna Shaw was the one thing I hadn¡¯t nned.

    She didn¡¯t know it was me. Not then. Not now. And yet, I¡¯d touched her in ways no man ever had.

    I thought today maybe, just maybe she¡¯d recognize something. A look. A sound. The air between us.

    But she was more concerned with social games and avoiding her ex-husband¡¯s new ything than remembering the night I made her forget her name.

    "Mr. Murphy," Peter Reed, my assistant, interrupted. "Ms. Shaw¡¯s car was spotted heading to Rosa Vi."

    My jaw tensed. Rosa Vi where she kept him. The boy who took credit for a night that belonged to me.

    "She¡¯s still seeing him?" I kept my voice even, but inside, something primal twisted.

    "Yes, sir."

    "Keep eyes on her."

    She¡¯d run from me once. Unknowingly. But I¡¯d returned for a reason. And if Anna Shaw needed reminding of who truly made her tremble I would deliver that reminder personally.

    Next time, she wouldn¡¯t forget.

 Chapter 10: Room 3303

    <h4>Chapter 10: Room 3303</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    The bruises on Sean¡¯s face made me feel guilty as I walked into Rosa Vi.

    He was arranging flowers in the living room, his movements careful and measured, clearly still in pain from Jack¡¯s assault.

    "How are you feeling?" I asked, setting my bag down. The care in my voice surprised even me.

    Sean turned, a soft smile lighting up his face despite his injuries. "Much better, Ms. Shaw."

    I studied the purple-ck marks marring his jaw. After all, he got hurt because of me.

    "I¡¯m staying here tonight," I announced, surprising myself with the decision. "Have the guest room prepared."

    His eyes widened slightly, but he quicklyposed himself. "Of course. Would you like dinner served in your room?"

    Before I could answer, Rachel appeared with my overnight bag. She¡¯d anticipated my decision before I¡¯d even made it. Sometimes, I wondered if she could read my mind.

    Later that evening, as I worked through emails on myptop, Sean¡¯s soft voice interrupted my thoughts. "Ms. Shaw? Would you like a massage? I noticed you rubbing your shoulders earlier."

    I nced up, intrigued. "You¡¯re trained in massage?"

    "We had extensive training at Olympus Club," he admitted, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "Not just... well, you know. They taught us proper therapeutic techniques too."

    Something about his embarrassment made me smile. "Alright then. Show me what you can do."

    His hands were surprisingly strong for someone with such a slim build. As his fingers worked the knots from my shoulders, I found myself rxing despite my usual guardedness. There was something refreshingly honest about Sean no hidden agendas, no power ys.

    The peaceful moment was shattered by my phone¡¯s buzz. A number that looked familiar.

    Sapphire Sky Hotel, 3303

    I frowned, about to delete it when another message appeared.

    Come alone, Anna Shaw.

    My heart stuttered. They knew my name. What did they want ckmail?

    My brow furrowed. They probably knew everything about me, while I knew nothing about them. The feeling was ufortable for someone like me used to being in control.

    "Sean, that¡¯s enough for tonight," I said, standing abruptly. "Get some rest."

    His face fell slightly, but he nodded. "Of course, Ms. Shaw. Will you be¡ª"

    "I have a matter to attend to," I cut him off, already reaching for my coat. "Don¡¯t wait up."

    The Sapphire Sky Hotel loomed before me, its ss fa?ade reflecting the city lights. Everything about the ce screamed money the private elevator, the hushed corridors. Whoever had summoned me wasn¡¯t short on funds.

    Room 3303¡¯s door was unlocked. I heard the shower running as I entered the expansive suite. On the coffee table, something caught my eye a watch I recognized instantly. A limited-edition Patek Philippe, one of only fifty pieces worldwide. Each one cost more than most people made in a lifetime.

    Who is he? I wondered, my earlier suspicion confirmed. This wasn¡¯t just a wealthy admirer. This was someone from an entirely different league.

    The shower stopped. Before I could process what that meant, the suite plunged into darkness.

    My instincts screamed danger, but as I turned to flee, strong arms caught me from behind. He moved with practiced efficiency, pinning me to the massive bed before I could even cry out.

    "Let go!" I snarled, struggling against his grip. "Who do you think you are?"

    He didn¡¯t answer. Instead, his lips found my neck exactly where he¡¯d marked me before. My body betrayed me, responding to his touch even as my mind rebelled. His hands moved with devastating skill, remembering exactly how to unravel me.

    "Tell me who you are," I demanded between gasps, but he silenced me with a kiss that was both punishing and passionate. In the darkness, I could only feel the expensive fabric of his shirt, the strength in his muscles, the intoxicating scent that teased memories I couldn¡¯t quite grasp.

    What followed was a symphony of pleasure and fury. My arms trembled as he seized my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand. His other hand tore at my skirt, rough fingers brushing my thighs, then higher. My breath caught as he found me wet, aching his touch unyielding, circling my clit before plunging inside.

    I couldn¡¯t see, but I felt everything: his cock, thick and insistent, pressing against my entrance. He didn¡¯t ask, didn¡¯t wait just thrust, filling me in one brutal stroke. A gasp tore from my throat, my body arching under his control. His hips mmed into mine, relentless, my cunt clenching around him as he dictated the rhythm.

    The darkness amplified it all his grunts, the slick sound of skin on skin, the heat of his shaft stretching me. He drove deeper, iming every inch, until I unraveled, helpless, beneath him.

    Dawn found me alone, pleasantly sore and thoroughly confused. On the nightstandy a familiar check the same one I¡¯d written at Olympus Club.

    He¡¯s not short on money. So why pay... just to have sex with me?

    Rachel burst in, sporting a bruise on her neck. Her eyes widened at the marks on my skin. "Ms. Shaw! Are you¡ª". She stopped, rubbing her neck where a bruise was forming. "I woke up in the next room. They must have knocked me out when I arrived."

    I sat up. "Find out who booked these rooms. Security footage, payment records everything."

    "Already on it." She hesitated. "Should I get you... emergency contraception?"

    "No." At least he¡¯d been responsible enough to use protection. Smallfort, given how thoroughly he¡¯d dominated me otherwise.

    As Rachel helped me dress, my mind raced. Who was he? How did he know my name... my movements?

 Chapter 11: I Will Find You

    <h4>Chapter 11: I Will Find You</h4>

    I will find you, I promised silently again as my car pulled up to Goldenleaf Manor. My body still ached pleasantly from the night¡¯s activities.

    "Ms. Shaw." Harrison, our elderly butler, met me at the door with an expectant look. "The auction house delivered your purchases while you were out. Would you like to verify them now?"

    I suppressed a groan. Thest thing I wanted was paperwork, but it had to be done. "Fine. Where are they?"

    "In the study, ma¡¯am. The sapphire bracelet for Margaret and..." he hesitated, "the wooden rabbit carving."

    I had almost forgotten about that impulsive purchase. Following Harrison into the study, I saw both items carefully arranged on my desk.

    The sapphire bracelet sparkled magnificently in its box, but my attention was drawn to the small wooden figure beside it.

    Something about the rabbit¡¯s pose head tilted slightly, ears pulled back tugged at my memory. I picked it up, running my fingers over the smooth curves of the wood. The craftsmanship was impressive, each detail lovingly carved.

    "My goodness," Harrison breathed, eyes wide. "I can¡¯t believe it survived all these years."

    I looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"

    "That rabbit, Ms. Shaw. You carved it yourself when you were fifteen." His voice held a note of wonder.

    I stared at the carving in my hands, struggling to process his words. I made this? The memory felt just out of reach, like trying to recall a dream upon waking.

    Harrison returned carrying a photo album. He opened it carefully, fingers trembling slightly as he turned the pages. "Here."

    The photograph showed a teenage version of myself, seated at a workbench. My hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, wood shavings scattered around me. In my hands was an unfinished rabbit carving unmistakably the same one I now held.

    "You took woodcarving lessons that summer," Harrison exined gently. "Your father thought it would help with stress before your SATs. You were quite talented."

    My throat tightened unexpectedly. I had so much to learn when I was young that I¡¯d almost forgotten I carved such a wooden rabbit.

    "Rachel," I called out, my voice harder than I intended. She appeared instantly, already tapping on her tablet. "Find out who consigned this piece to the auction. I want to know everything where they got it, when, and how much they paid. You have three days."

    "Ms. Shaw¡ª" she began, but I cut her off.

    "Three days, Rachel. Someone put this up for auction knowing exactly who would buy it. I want to know who and why."

    Harrison cleared his throat softly. "Perhaps some soup first, Ms. Shaw? You look tired, and your mother always says¡ª"

    "Fine," I snapped, then immediately regretted my tone. It wasn¡¯t Harrison¡¯s fault I was exhausted and unsettled.

    He returned momentster with a bowl of his signature chicken soup. "Get some rest after this," he advised gently.

    My phone buzzed just as I was about to drift off. Catherine Murphy¡¯s name shed across the screen.

    "Get dressed," she announced without preamble. "Something sexy. We¡¯re going out."

    I groaned into my pillow. "Catherine, I¡¯m exhausted¡ª"

    "Nope, not taking no for an answer. You need this. I¡¯m introducing you to someone amazing." Her voice held that tone that meant resistance was futile. "Wear that red dress you bought in Paris."

    Two hourster, I found myself in one of Skyview City¡¯s most exclusive nightclubs, the bass vibrating through my bones as Catherine and I dominated the dance floor. The red dress clung to my curves, drawing appreciative nces from around the room. For a moment, I let myself forget about mysterious lovers and wooden rabbits, losing myself in the rhythm.

    Catherine grabbed my arm mid-spin, her eyes suddenly wide with panic.

    "We need to go. Now."

    "What¡ª" Before I could finish, she was dragging me toward the exit. The sudden shift from dancing to fleeing left me stumbling in my heels.

    We didn¡¯t make it far.

    A tall figure stepped into our path Peter Reed, Marcus¡¯s right-hand man. I recognized him from corporate events, always hovering at the edge of Marcus¡¯s orbit.

    "Ms. Murphy, Ms. Shaw," he greeted us with professional courtesy. "Mr. Murphy is here tonight."

    Catherine¡¯s grip on my arm tightened.

    I nced at her, puzzled by her reaction. Why was she so afraid of her uncle?

    As if summoned by his name, Marcus materialized from the crowd. Even in the pulsing lights of the club, hemanded attention. His tailored shirt stretched across broad shoulders, and his dark eyes assessed the situation with calcting precision.

    "What an interesting surprise," he drawled, his gaze moving between us. "Catherine. Anna."

    Catherine seemed to shrink beside me.

    "Uncle Marcus, I¡ª"

    "Anna invited me," she blurted out, shooting me a desperate look. Three quick squeezes to my fingers our old code from shopping trips. I¡¯ll buy you those three bags you wanted.

    I raised an eyebrow but yed along.

    "That¡¯s right. We¡¯re both adults, Marcus. Surely you¡¯re not still ying the overprotective uncle?"

    His mouth curved slightly, but the smile didn¡¯t reach his eyes. "Catherine, we discussed this. Last time you were here, I said your allowance would be cut if it happened again." He turned to Peter. "Make sure she gets home safely."

    Catherine squeezed my hand once more in apology before practically fleeing, leaving me alone with Marcus and the lingering bass of the club music.

    "I¡¯ll drive you home," he stated. Not a question, not an offer a simple deration of fact.

    "That¡¯s not necessary," I started to say, but he was already walking toward the exit, Peter gesturing for me to follow.

 Chapter 12: Echoes of the Night

    <h4>Chapter 12: Echoes of the Night</h4>

    Marcus¡¯s POV

    I yed chess with my father, but my focus drifted more specifically, to Anna Shaw and the red half-moons her nails had raked across my back. I moved a piece without thinking, earning a sharp frown from across the board.

    Thwack!

    His walking stick struck my shoulder not enough to hurt, just enough to yank me back to reality.

    "If you¡¯re not going to take this seriously, leave," he growled, though a flicker of amusement softened the warning.

    I winced in mock pain. "Just some scratches," I murmured, lips twitching into a smile. "A rather fierce kitten."

    His expression shifted. After decades at the helm of the Murphy empire, little escaped him. "A kitten?" he echoed knowingly. "So you¡¯ve found someone."

    I didn¡¯t respond, but I didn¡¯t need to. He read the truth in my silence.

    "Who is she?" he pressed, leaning forward, eyes gleaming. "It¡¯s about time you settled down. The Murphy name needs heirs."

    "I have a meeting," I said smoothly, rising. "We¡¯ll y again soon."

    Hisughter chased me down the hall. "You can¡¯t dodge this forever, Marcus!"

    The bar where Joseph waited was deliberately unremarkable dim lighting, scuffed floors, watered-down drinks. A far cry from the opulence of Olympus, my usual haunt. He raised a brow when I approached.

    "The great Marcus Murphy, slumming it?" he teased. "Why not Olympus tonight?"

    "Didn¡¯t feel like going back," I said curtly, signaling the bartender. I didn¡¯t borate. The real reason was simple: Olympus reeked of Anna. Her perfume still lingered in the shadows of that private suite, and I wasn¡¯t ready to breathe it in again.

    Joseph swirled his drink, watching me. "I got the intel you wanted about the mansion auction. Turns out Jack Simpson wasn¡¯t just being spiteful. That whole district¡¯s ted for redevelopment."

    Guilt flickered in my chest. I¡¯d assumed Jack was just trying to hurt Anna, bidding to spite her. That assumption had led me to outbid them both two hundred million, a price that made headlines even in Skyview.

    "The property¡¯s yours now," Joseph continued. "What are you nning to do with it?"

    I didn¡¯t answer right away. That house wasn¡¯t just real estate it was Anna¡¯s childhood, her memories, her grief. I¡¯d bought it to protect her from Jack, but now...

    "It belongs to its rightful owner," I said finally. I didn¡¯t add that she¡¯d get it back just not yet. Not until she remembered that night. Not until she remembered me.

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "I can get my own ce for the night," I said, exasperated, from the backseat of Marcus¡¯s car. He didn¡¯t respond. Just kept driving through the winding streets of Skyview, calm and unreadable.

    We stopped outside my family¡¯s gates, the iron archway looming like a relic from another lifetime. Before the car even fully halted, my grandmother appeared, followed by my mother both dressed as if attending a g. Of course. A Murphy visits and suddenly we¡¯re royalty.

    As I moved to exit, a sharp ache shot through my thighs, making me wince. I hadn¡¯t realized how sore I was until now. I shifted carefully, hoping no one noticed.

    "Marcus Murphy!" Grandmother beamed, sping his hands warmly. "Ten years, has it been? Your insight impressed Anna¡¯s father so much back then. He couldn¡¯t stop talking about you."

    I tried to sneak past them into the house, desperate to ditch my club dress. But then¡ª"

    "I ran into Annie in the city," Marcus said casually.

    I froze. Annie.

    No one had called me that in years not outside the family. He¡¯d used it deliberately.

    My mother¡¯s brows lifted ever so slightly.

    "Anna,e with me," she said sharply, her fingers wrapping around my arm as she whisked me upstairs. "That dress is not suitable forpany."

    By the time I came down again, dressed in something much more... mother-approved, Marcus was seated in our living room, coffee in hand, engaged in polite conversation with my family.

    "Recreation¡¯s perfectly normal for someone managing a major corporation," he was saying, in what sounded oddly like a defense of my lifestyle.

    "She does take on too much," my mother sighed. "Sometimes I wish she¡¯d rx more... but..."

    "She can alwayse to me," Marcus said, calm and firm. "If she needs anything."

    My mother and grandmother exchanged a surprised nce.

    I managed a smile. "That¡¯s kind of you, but you¡¯re rarely in the country. If I needed help, you¡¯d be hard to find."

    His gaze locked with mine. "If you look for me, Annie, you¡¯ll find me."

    There was something in his voice something possessive, something familiar and I didn¡¯t like the way it made my heart flutter.

    He stood and offered his farewells. We all walked him out to the car, as politeness dictated.

    Once the taillights vanished, my mother turned to me.

    "Anna," she asked, "how well do you know Marcus Murphy?"

    "This is only the second time we¡¯ve met," I answered honestly.

    She frowned. "Really? He seemed so... familiar. And that nickname..."

    "Oh, that?" I shrugged. "William probably mentioned it."

    But I knew better. Marcus hadn¡¯t needed anyone to remind him who I was. And he definitely hadn¡¯t forgotten that night

 Chapter 13: Masks and Motives

    <h4>Chapter 13: Masks and Motives</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Iy on my bed with a cooling face mask stered over my skin, watching as Catherine¡¯s wide eyed face filled my phone screen.

    "I can¡¯t believe it," she gasped, shaking her head in disbelief. "Uncle Marcus actually defended you? And Aunt Elizabeth didn¡¯t give you a full-blown lecture on propriety?"

    I couldn¡¯t suppress a small smile. "What can I say? Maybe your uncle isn¡¯t as severe as you all think."

    Catherine snorted. "Oh, please. You have no idea. Last time I went clubbing, he cut off my pocket money and said I was tarnishing the family name. The double standard is insane."

    "Maybe he just has better judgment than you give him credit for," I teased, adjusting my pillow so the mask didn¡¯t slip. "He probably knew I was just keeping an eye on you. Making sure you didn¡¯t get into too much trouble."

    Catherine raised an eyebrow. "You? The girl in the ck dress with the thigh high slit?"

    I rolled my eyes. "Supervising in style."

    Sheughed. "Well, either way, you might want to stay on your best behavior. Word is... Uncle Marcus isn¡¯t leaving Skyview anytime soon."

    I sat up straighter, nearly dislodging the mask. "What do you mean?"

    "Grandfather let it slip," she said, eyes gleaming. "Marcus is staying because he¡¯s interested in someone."

    I blinked. "Marcus Murphy. Interested in someone?"

    "The eternal bachelor himself," she confirmed with a dramatic nod. "Can you imagine? He¡¯s never even brought a date to family functions. Grandfather¡¯s practically hosting a parade."

    A memory of Marcus at the club shed across my mind how his shirt had clung to his broad shoulders, the quiet control in his movements, the way his eyes found mine across the room.

    "Has he never... dated anyone seriously before?"

    Catherine tilted her head, thinking. "Well, there was one time about six years ago. He came back from Europe over some girl, but apparently she was already seeing someone else. After that, poof. Gone again. This is the only other time I¡¯ve seen him look remotely interested in someone."

    I frowned. "A man like that sessful, intelligent, athletic he could have anyone."

    Catherine arched a brow. "And yet here he is. Focused, disciplined,pletely unavable... until now."

    I peeled off my face mask slowly, deep in thought. "Your grandfather really knows how to raise them."

    "Unlike some people," she muttered with a pointed re, clearly referencing Jack.

    Before I could respond, she added with a grin, "Oh and you should¡¯ve seen Marcus¡¯s face when he spotted us at the club. For a second, I thought he was going to drag me out by the ear."

    I was halfway through reviewing quarterly reports when Daniel burst into my office, his usuallyposed demeanor visibly shaken.

    "Ms. Shaw," he said, breathless. "There¡¯s an emergency at the Phoenix Project."

    My pen stilled mid signature.

    Jack hade to me about problems on Phoenix a few weeks back. I¡¯d brushed him off, chalking it up to exaggeration. Apparently, I was wrong.

    "Get Rachel. Bring the car," I said sharply.

    We reached the research facility in under twenty minutes. Jack¡¯s car was already parked out front.

    Of course.

    Inside, raised voices echoed through the halls. The tension led us to a chaotic conference room, where Jack and Lucy stood over Trevor Torres, our chief engineer. Trevor¡¯s face was flushed, his sses askew, caught between fury and shame.

    "I didn¡¯t do it!" Trevor shouted, fists clenched. "I would never¡ª"

    Lucy hurled a folder at him with theatrical ir. "The emails came from your personalputer. Your ount. What more do you need?"

    The moment she saw me, her expression flipped to faux-concern. "Anna! Thank goodness. This has been such a... difficult discovery."

    "Stop." My voice cut through the room like ss. I had no patience for her performance.

    Lucy blinked but pressed on, her tone still honeyed. "Trevor Torres has been stealing Phoenix¡¯s research data. The technical team found the proof on hisputer."

    I raised a hand, silencing her again.

    "I won¡¯t ept usations of theft without concrete evidence." I turned to Trevor, his back now a little straighter. "Mr. Torres, did you do this?"

    "Ms. Shaw..." His voice cracked. "I swear I would never betray thispany."

    Trevor had been with Shaw Corp for nearly a decade. His loyalty wasn¡¯t just assumed it was proven.

    I picked up the papers Lucy had dramatically scattered across the table. "This is your evidence? Some printed emails?"

    Lucy¡¯s expression twisted. "Surely you¡¯re not suggesting we ignore this? The digital trail leads right to his machine."

    "Jack," I said, turning to him. "Can you confirm no one else had ess to Trevor¡¯s workstation?"

    His jaw clenched. "The evidence speaks for itself."

    "Does it?" I folded my arms. "Just like appointing someone with zero experience to lead Phoenix spoke for itself?"

    The jab at Lucynded.

    Jack¡¯s eyes narrowed. "Shaw Corp has invested heavily in this project. Don¡¯t let personal feelings cloud your judgment."

    I gave a dryugh. "That¡¯s riching from you."

    Lucy¡¯s smug expression faltered.

    "I trust the judgment of a man who¡¯s given ten years to thispany," I continued. "Not someone who showed up three months ago and got handed the reins because she knows how to flirt with upper management."

    Lucy¡¯s face flushed crimson.

    "Trevor wille with me," I announced. "Effective immediately, the Phoenix Project is suspended pending a full internal review."

    "You can¡¯t just¡ª" Jack started.

    "I can and I will," I said, voice steely. "And if I find out someone¡¯s trying to sabotage this project..."

    My gaze shifted deliberately to Lucy.

    "They¡¯ll regret it."

 Chapter 14: The Watchdog

    <h4>Chapter 14: The Watchdog</h4>

    Anna

    I drummed my fingers against my desk, reviewing Rachel¡¯stest intel on the Phoenix Project leak. It was worse than I thought.

    "The ess logs point to someone with direct entry to Trevor¡¯s system," Rachel said grimly. "It¡¯s an inside job."

    I sighed, massaging my temples. Trevor was brilliant in research but alwayscking in management instincts. That made him easy to manipte maybe even sabotage.

    My phone buzzed. William Murphy shed across the screen.

    "Anna, my dear," came his smooth, familiar voice. "Join us for dinner tonight? I¡¯ve had some exceptional bluefin tuna flown in."

    Before I could invent a polite excuse, he added, "Marcus will be here too. He specifically asked if you wereing."

    That made me pause.

    "I¡¯d be delighted," I said smoothly. "Should I bring anything?"

    "Just yourself, dear."

    Still, I arrived at Murphy Estate with a carefully chosen artisan vase. No matter what the host says, one should nevere empty handed. To my surprise, Marcus was already there, lounging in the garden, effortlessly elegant.

    "Following the scent of bluefin tuna?" I teased.

    His gaze swept over me slow, unreadable, focused. "Something like that."

    William beamed when we entered. "Anna! You must try this best tuna money can buy!"

    "Everything tastes better at your table," I smiled, epting a ss of wine.

    As we dined, William¡¯s tone grew serious. "I heard about the Phoenix mess. Need my help?"

    I kept my voice light. "Nothing I can¡¯t handle. Once we identify the leak..."

    "Lucy has Mary¡¯s backing," William warned. "But you have me."

    A subtle power y. He was offering protection. Compensating, perhaps, for Jack¡¯s betrayal.

    Then Marcus spoke, his voice calm but deliberate.

    "This isn¡¯t just about catching a mole. Your team needs someone loyal to you overseeing operations."

    I studied him. He was right. I¡¯d been thinking too small. This wasn¡¯t just about finding the traitor it was about fortifying loyalty. Preventing the next betrayal.

    I raised my ss, our eyes meeting. Something electric pulsed in the air between us.

    Later that night, driving home, Marcus¡¯s words kept echoing.

    I couldn¡¯t afford to reassign any of my key team members. They were already overextended.

    Then it struck me.

    "Rachel," I called. "What was Sean¡¯s background again?"

    "MIT. Financial engineering. Investment firm experience before... well, Olympus Club." She paused, understanding dawning. "You¡¯re thinking of promoting him?"

    "Take me to Rosa Vi."

    We made a quick stop at the mall. If Sean was going to represent me, he needed to look the part.

    When we arrived, Sean was buried in financial journals, scrambling to hide them as I entered.

    "Ms. Shaw!" He jumped to his feet, panic flickering in his eyes. "I know I haven¡¯t met expectations, but please I could work as your driver, or¡ª"

    "Actually," I cut him off, "I have a proposition."

    His mouth snapped shut.

    "How would you like to oversee the Phoenix Project?"

    His eyes widened. "But... Jack Simpson..."

    "Will likely try to make your life hell? Yes." I set the bags down. "There will be rumors, of course. About why I chose you. Can you handle that?"

    He straightened, determination tightening his jaw. "I was desperate enough to work at Olympus Club to cover my father¡¯s treatment. I can handle anything."

    "Good," I said. "Rachel will brief you. From now on, you report directly to me. Any hint of trouble you tell me first."

    I gestured to the shopping bags. "Those are for you. Clothes, essories... When you represent me, you need to look the part."

    His fingers trembled slightly as he touched the luxury watch. "I won¡¯t let you down."

    "See that you don¡¯t." I turned to leave, then paused. "Prove yourself, and you might just earn a permanent position at Shaw Corp."

    Lucy

    The email hit like a p.

    "Sean Smith appointed Project Director oversight and coordination with Simpson Group."

    I stared at it, my nails tapping a sharp rhythm on the desk.

    "Transparent," I sneered. "She doesn¡¯t even try to hide it."

    Anna Shaw had appointed herpdog. I stood, adjusting my dress. If she thought this pretty-boy in a tailored suit could intimidate me, she clearly didn¡¯t know me at all.

    I headed straight to Shaw Corp¡¯s executive floor. Sean was in the conference room, dressed like a Wall Street prodigy, buried in project docs.

    "Mr. Smith," I greeted, syrupy-sweet, extending my hand. Let¡¯s see if he¡¯d dare ignore it.

    He did.

    "Ms. Taylor," he said coolly. "Just reviewing thetest reports. Concerning numbers."

    "Where¡¯s Trevor?" I pressed. "And how are you managing the Trevor situation?"

    "Ms. Shaw is unavable. I¡¯ll be handling all Phoenix matters going forward."

    His voice was smooth. Unshakable. I scanned him again. The suit was expensive. The watch custom, high end.

    "You represent Shaw Corp¡¯s interests now?" I scoffed. "You mean Anna¡¯s."

    "Correct. I represent Ms. Shaw. If you have concerns, I¡¯ll address them."

    I narrowed my eyes. "Everyone knows what you really are her trained pet in an expensive cor."

    He remained calm. "Then direct yourints to me. Ms. Shaw is not to be disturbed."

    I turned on my heel and stormed out. The audacity.

    Later that evening, over dinner at the Simpson estate, I casually dropped the news.

    "Anna¡¯s reced Trevor," I said, sipping wine. "With someone very close to her."

    Jack¡¯s newspaper twitched in his hands. A tell he never mastered.

    "It¡¯s outrageous," Mary scoffed. "She protects the real spy and mes poor Trevor."

    "We should involve the police," Jack muttered.

    "No, darling," I said sweetly. "This must be handled... delicately. For the sake of bothpanies."

    Mary reached across the table, touching my hand. "You¡¯re so selfless. Not like that Shaw woman. You¡¯ve sacrificed so much for Jack."

    Later, in Jack¡¯s study, I nted the seed.

    "You should see Sean now," I purred. "Eighty-eight-thousand-dor watch. Anna¡¯s personal representative."

    Jack¡¯s eyes darkened.

    "You¡¯re the project head," he said tly. "Handle it however you see fit."

    I smiled to myself as I left.

    Finally, he didn¡¯t lose control when he heard Anna¡¯s name.

    He was bing predictable.

    And I intended to use that to my full advantage.

 Chapter 15: Conscience, Collars, and Control

    <h4>Chapter 15: Conscience, Cors, and Control</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I was reviewing quarterly forecasts when Rachel burst through the door without knocking something she never did unless it was urgent.

    "Ms. Shaw," she said, slightly breathless. Her usually immacte appearance betrayed haste loose strands escaping her tight bun. In her hands was a small wooden box, not unlike the rabbit carving. "I found something."

    I set my pen down and leaned back.

    "The auction house?"

    She nodded, cing the box on my desk with deliberate care. "It¡¯s from the same collection. The auction manager gave it to me personally."

    It was simple yet elegant clearly handcrafted from the same wood as the rabbit. I ran my fingers over its smooth grain and felt an odd shiver crawl up my spine. Inside was a folded note, scrawled in an unfamiliar hand: "Still has a conscience."

    "¡¯Still has a conscience,¡¯" I read aloud, brow furrowing.

    Rachel watched me closely. "What do you think it means?"

    I shut the box with a decisive snap. "It means someone¡¯s ying games." I pushed it aside. "The rabbit was just something I carved as a teenager. It¡¯s not important."

    "But¡ª"

    "We have more pressing matters," I cut in. "The Phoenix Project. And whoever was at the hotel."

    Rachel straightened, professionalism returning like armor. "Speaking of Phoenix I have an update on Sean."

    My interest piqued. "Go on."

    "He¡¯s handling Lucy Taylor better than expected," she said with the faintest smirk. "Yesterday, she stormed into his office, clearly trying to rattle him. He didn¡¯t even flinch. Refused to shake her hand. Kept everything strictly professional focused on project discrepancies only."

    I allowed myself a brief, proud smile. "So our soft spoken Sean has teeth after all."

    Rachel nodded. "He¡¯s already gged something and asked that youe to the Phoenix offices ASAP."

    I checked my watch. "Clear my schedule for the next three hours. Let¡¯s see what our wolf in a suit has uncovered."

    By the time my car pulled up to the Phoenix Project facility, the situation had already escted. Raised voices echoed from the main research floor one of them unmistakably Lucy¡¯s shrill bark.

    Inside, Sean stood at his desk, holding a man folder like a shield. Lucy was practically vibrating with fury.

    "Ms. Shaw," Sean said with relief when he spotted me. "Thank you foring."

    Lucy whirled around, expression flipping from rage to faux concern. "Anna! Thank God. Your... employee is withholding critical information."

    I ignored her. "Sean, what have you found?"

    Lucy tried again. "I heard Shaw Corp made a discovery, but Sean says Simpson Group personnel aren¡¯t qualified to even ask about it."

    "I believe we follow a chain ofmand here," I said coolly. "Sean reports to me. Not to you."

    She stiffened. "As project manager, I have the right to¡ª"

    "As project manager," I cut in, "you wait until the investigation is concluded. Just like the police don¡¯t share evidence mid case."

    Sean handed me the folder. Inside was a report marked in red ink:

    "Third Batch Fine Motor Movement Calibration VOID."

    Trevor Torres¡¯s signature was at the bottom, dated a month ago.

    Before I could speak, Jack Simpson stormed in, fury radiating off him.

    "What the hell is this?" he roared, pointing at Sean. "You¡¯re letting him run an investigation?"

    Sean stood his ground, silent but tense. Jack prowled closer like a predator.

    "Do you even know who this thing is?" he snarled. "He worked at Olympus Club. He was a prostitute."

    The word echoed through the stunned silence.

    A few staff members gasped. Others exchanged awkward nces or looked away.

    Jack¡¯s voice climbed. "This... trash is managing your golden project? This is who you think is qualified?"

    Rachel appeared beside me, subtly ushering employees out of the room.

    "Are you finished?" I asked Jack, my voice icy calm.

    He wasn¡¯t. "You bring filth into a professional environment and expect anyone to take him seriously?"

    I moved beside Sean, close enough to make a statement. "Let me get this straight you¡¯re attacking someone¡¯s qualifications based on their past job?"

    Jack¡¯s face burned. "It¡¯s not the same¡ª"

    "You¡¯re right," I said smoothly. "Sean has a degree from MIT in Financial Engineering. Lucy," I turned just enough to gesture toward her, "has a marketing diploma from amunity college. Yet somehow you¡¯refortable with her managing the project."

    Lucy gasped. "How dare you¡ª"

    "I dare because I co-own this project," I replied. Then, back to Jack, "Your double standards are showing. Not a good look."

    Jack¡¯s fury red. "Get him out. Now. Or I swear¡ª"

    "Or what?" I stepped forward, voice dropping. "You don¡¯t get to dictate who I hire anymore. This is my oversight team. My decision."

    Jack¡¯sposure snapped. "Always so goddamn stubborn. So sure you¡¯re better than everyone else!"

    "Pot, kettle," I said, unshaken.

    His hands clenched, white-knuckled. "You¡¯re pushing me, Anna. Don¡¯t make me do something we¡¯ll both regret."

    His words made me pause. How was I pushing him? What exactly was he threatening to do?

    But I refused to let his tantrum derail us.

    "If you¡¯re done, Mr. Simpson," I said, tone final, "please leave. This is Shaw Corp¡¯s office space."

    Jack hesitated, eyes dark with unspoken menace. "This isn¡¯t over," he said as he backed away.

    No. It wasn¡¯t. But next time, I¡¯d be ready.

 Chapter 16: Fire With Fire

    <h4>Chapter 16: Fire With Fire</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I settled into the chair behind Sean¡¯s desk, crossing my legs and leaning back with a deliberate calm that belied the storm I felt brewing around us. The office, sleek and modern, bore the lingering tension of recent events. The shadows from the overhead lighting cast sharp lines across the desk, matching the sharp edge in my mood.

    Sean hovered near the edge of the room, uncertain. His posture was tense shoulders drawn up slightly, arms awkward at his sides. He looked like a man carrying weight too heavy for his frame. I didn¡¯t miss the tightness in his jaw, the way his eyes flicked to the floor before daring to meet mine.

    "Ms. Shaw, I want to apolo¡ª"

    "Don¡¯t," I cut him off before the sentence could settle in the air.

    My voice was sharper than I intended, but I didn¡¯t soften it. I lifted my gaze from the folder in front of me and met his eyes directly. "If you¡¯re about to apologize for Jack Simpson¡¯s behavior, save it. His actions reflect on him not you."

    Sean¡¯s mouth opened, closed again. He looked like a man preparing to drown.

    "I never meant to bring trouble to the project," he said quietly. His voice was barely more than a whisper.

    I set the folder down with care, letting the moment breathe before I spoke again. "Sean, I ced you here because you earned it. You don¡¯t need to apologize for existing. You¡¯re not responsible for the insecurities of men who fear losing control."

    He blinked.

    "I know it¡¯s not easy," I continued. "But the best way to silence men like Jack is with results. You don¡¯t argue with them. You don¡¯t defend yourself. You outss them until they have no ground to stand on."

    There was a long pause. Then, something shifted in Sean small but unmistakable. His shoulders squared slightly. His chin lifted.

    "I¡¯m not afraid," he said. "I just... I worry about the mess this creates for you."

    I allowed a hint of softness to break through. "You let me worry about that. You worry about being brilliant."

    He gave a small nod, then moved toward the opposite chair. The moment hisptop opened, something familiar returned his focus. Professional. Sharp. Efficient.

    "I reviewed the leaked data again," he began, turning the screen toward me. "What we thought were stolen proprietary files from Trevor¡¯s team? They¡¯re not what they seem."

    I leaned forward, interested.

    Sean clicked a few keys, pulling up a folder. "They¡¯re identical to a batch of calibration test results that were marked VOID more than a month ago. They weren¡¯t confidential they were failures."

    I frowned. "So someone stole garbage?"

    "Exactly," Sean said. "Tests Trevor¡¯s team already dismissed. They were never logged as usable. Whoever took them either didn¡¯t know what they were doing, or they wanted to create the illusion of a serious breach."

    My fingers tapped a slow rhythm against the polished desk. "You¡¯re telling me this entire scandal is built on worthless data?"

    Sean nodded. "There¡¯s nothing in those files that apetitor could use. They¡¯re outdated, deprecated. If someone tried to sell them, they wouldn¡¯t get anything meaningful unless the goal wasn¡¯t money."

    "Optics," I muttered. "They wanted to make it look like we had a real breach."

    Sean hesitated. "That¡¯s my assumption. Someone wanted to discredit us, maybe even sabotage Phoenix from the inside."

    Just then, Rachel stepped in, tablet in hand. "We¡¯ve narrowed the suspects, but no hard proof yet. However, there¡¯s activity on one terminal that doesn¡¯t match our employee logs. We think whoever it is used a ghost credential."

    I nodded. "Keep pressing. Find the mole, fast. And Sean..." I looked at him directly. "You¡¯re doing exactly what I need from you."

    He straightened at that.

    As the meeting wrapped, I left the building by the east entrance. The day was slipping into twilight, the sky streaked with the copper hues of a dying sun. I barely took a few steps before a familiar voice echoed from the lot.

    "Anna!"

    I turned to see Lucy approaching with her usual feline grace, Jack trailing beside her like a disgruntled shadow.

    "What a coincidence," she said, her smile tight and rehearsed. "We were just heading out. How about dinner?"

    I stared at her for a long moment, amused by the audacity.

    "I have ns," I replied coolly, then turned on my heel and slid into the backseat of the waiting sedan. The door shut with a definitive click, sealing off whatever performance Lucy had nned.

    Lucy¡¯s POV

    From across the parking lot, I watched the ck sedan pull away, Anna¡¯s silhouette shrinking behind tinted ss. Her rejection was clean, sharp. Dismissive.

    Beside me, Jack seethed.

    It was still fresh for him the way Anna had dismissed his authority, his importance, his name, in front of a room full of people.

    "She didn¡¯t even pretend to care," he muttered. "Didn¡¯t hesitate. Just walked away."

    I slipped into the passenger seat of his car, adjusting my coat with care. "She wants you off bnce," I said softly. "That¡¯s how she wins."

    Jack grunted but said nothing, eyes locked on the road ahead, though the engine hadn¡¯t started. I noticed the death grip he had on the steering wheel, knuckles drained of color.

    "Sean¡¯s position is precarious," I said after a beat. "Everyone in this industry knows where he came from. And if people start talking if they start connecting the Olympus Club to Phoenix it won¡¯t be just Anna¡¯s credibility on the line. It¡¯ll be yours."

    That got his attention.

    "You¡¯re suggesting we leak it?"

    "No," I said quickly. "Not yet. But if Anna insists on protecting someone who doesn¡¯t belong here, then she¡¯s creating a vulnerability for all of us."

    He turned to look at me, eyes sharp. "What¡¯s your angle?"

    "She won¡¯t remove him. Not voluntarily," I said. "But if the choice is between the project or the boy, she¡¯ll bend."

    "She doesn¡¯t bend."

    "She will," I said calmly. "All it takes is pressure in the right ce. Not a threat. A consequence."

    Jack sat back, jaw grinding. "You know she¡¯ll frame it as me trying to control her."

    "She already thinks that," I replied. "This isn¡¯t about perception. It¡¯s about survival. If we don¡¯t act, she¡¯ll take this entire ship down with her pride."

    Jack was silent for a long time, then finally asked, "What do you suggest?"

    I smiled and patted his hand. "We start with the press. Quiet whispers. Concerns about hiring protocol. About security. We make the board nervous. We make Phoenix look unstable."

    He stared at me, considering.

    "If Anna still protects Sean after that," I added, "then we introduce internal pressure. Leaked reports. Anonymous board memos. We create enough smoke that the fire bes inevitable."

    He gave a slow nod. "And if she pushes back?"

    "Then we force her hand. We make it so that keeping Sean looks like favoritism. Like negligence."

    A slow, dangerous smile tugged at Jack¡¯s lips.

    "You¡¯re vicious," he said.

    "I¡¯m efficient," I corrected smoothly. "Anna wants to y hardball. Let¡¯s see how she handles being the one on defense."

    He finally turned the key in the ignition, and the engine hummed to life.

    "Just looking out for our interests," I said sweetly, settling back into my seat as we pulled into the street. "After all, we¡¯re in this together."

 Chapter 17: A Seat at the Lionâ€™s Table

    <h4>Chapter 17: A Seat at the Lion¡¯s Table</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    The screen on my phone lit up, and I immediately felt the pull of dread tighten in my chest.

    Joint Phoenix Project Meeting 9:00 AM Tomorrow

    Location: Simpson HQ ¨C Boardroom B

    I stared at it for a few seconds, my jaw clenching. No warning. No discussion. Just a forced summons with barely twelve hours¡¯ notice.

    Typical Jack.

    I didn¡¯t move, didn¡¯t blink, didn¡¯t even bother hiding the cold fury creeping beneath my skin. Not this time.

    "Daniel. Rachel." My voice sliced through the quiet of my office. "Clear your schedules. You¡¯reing with me to the Phoenix meeting."

    Rachel appeared in the doorway almost instantly, heels clicking against the polished floor. She already had her tablet in hand. "Just the three of us? What about Sean and the rest of the technical team?"

    My eyes never left the glowing screen. "Exactly what they want. If we show up with our full team, they¡¯ll spin it as formal mediation."

    She hesitated. "And this isn¡¯t mediation?"

    "No," I said tly, finally setting my phone down. "It¡¯s an ambush."

    Daniel stepped inside, brow furrowed. "Ms. Shaw, walking in outnumbered could be interpreted as weakness."

    I stood, tugging my jacket into ce with deliberate care. My spine straightened. My voice, calm and razor-sharp.

    "Or confidence."

    I looked him straight in the eye.

    "I am Shaw Corp, Daniel. I don¡¯t need a wall of people behind me to prove it."

    The next morning, Simpson HQ was already buzzing when we arrived. The receptionist looked vaguely startled when she saw only the three of us walk in. Good.

    By the time we reached the boardroom, Jack was already seated at the head of the table like a self-crowned king, surrounded by eight of his executives. Everyst one of them in matching charcoal suits, their expressions smug, territorial. Hungry.

    I didn¡¯t rush.

    Instead, I paused just inside the doorway and surveyed the scene like a queen surveying a battlefield. I could feel Rachel and Daniel behind me, silent andposed, the air thick with tension.

    I walked to the table with measured grace, set down my notes minimal, intentional and settled in. Rachel took her seat to my left, Daniel to my right. Together, we formed a quiet wall of defiance.

    Jack¡¯s eyes narrowed.

    "You¡¯rete," he said, voice edged with practiced disapproval.

    I slowly checked my watch, allowing the pause to stretch. "I¡¯m exactly on time, Jack. Maybe your clock¡¯s fast."

    The corner of his jaw twitched.

    "Where¡¯s the rest of your team?" he demanded. "The technical leads? Sean?" He said Sean¡¯s name like it was something he wanted to spit out.

    "I¡¯m here," I replied, evenly. "Shaw Corp is fully represented."

    "You¡¯re not taking this seriously."

    "On the contrary," I said, folding my hands on the table. "I take this project very seriously. So seriously, I chose to represent mypany personally rather than send a parade of suits."

    I let my eyes drift, unhurried, across the faces of his executives.

    "Can your people speak with the same authority for Simpson Group?"

    There was a small but noticeable shift two of the suits exchanged nces. A flicker of difort.

    Jack¡¯s face flushed dark red.

    Before he could retaliate, Lucy always so eager to y the part of polished assassin leaned forward. Her smile was painted on, her tone falsely sweet.

    "We noticed Sean isn¡¯t here," she said, eyebrows drawn in mock concern. "He was supposed to be one of the key participants in today¡¯s discussion."

    "Sean is my employee," I said, voice still calm. "He doesn¡¯t need to be here for this conversation. I trust him implicitly, and I have no intention of removing him from the Phoenix Project."

    One of the executives cleared his throat. "Ms. Shaw, if I may. Your appointment of a...panion... to a leadership position in a high-stakes initiative like Phoenix is¡ª"

    "Escort?" I cut in sharply, brow raised. "That¡¯s what we¡¯re calling it now?"

    His face didn¡¯t move. But Lucy filled the gap with her signature syrup.

    "Come now, Anna," she purred. "We all know where you found him. A young woman in your position should be more mindful of optics."

    There it was.

    I didn¡¯tugh, though I wanted to.

    "A young woman like myself?" I repeated, my voice clipped. "Would you offer that same advice to a man in this seat?"

    "This isn¡¯t about gender," Jack interjected. "It¡¯s about your judgment. You¡¯ve ced an unqualified individual with a shady background in a critical role. And we still have an unresolved data leak."

    I arched a brow.

    "You mean the leak of the test data Sean discovered?" I asked, casually flipping open my notes. "The one marked ¡¯VOID¡¯? The one someone nted to frame Trevor?"

    Lucy¡¯s smile cracked. Only slightly. But enough.

    "The investigation is ongoing," she said quickly. "In the meantime, having someone from Olympus Club involved¡ª"

    "I¡¯ve made my decision," I said, voice t and final. "Sean stays."

    Jack¡¯s fist mmed into the table. Water sses trembled. Rachel didn¡¯t flinch.

    "This isn¡¯t a negotiation, Anna!" he barked. "You¡¯re risking everything we¡¯ve built because of your personal involvement with that man!"

    I didn¡¯t move.

    "My arrangement with Sean is professional," I replied. "He reports to me. Period."

    Jack straightened and pulled a folder from the table.

    "Simpson Group has two conditions. One: You share Shaw Corp¡¯s core technology with us. Two: You reduce your profit share by two points."

    I didn¡¯t even nce at the folder.

    "Two percent may seem minor," I said, tone tightening, "but we both know what that means in the long run. And our core technology?" A bitterugh escaped. "Why not just ask me to hand over Shaw Corp on a silver tter?"

    "It¡¯s a reasonable request under the circumstances," one of the men muttered.

    "Reasonable?" I said incredulously. "It¡¯s extortion."

    Jack stood, straightening his jacket. "Then we¡¯re withdrawing from Phoenix."

    I said nothing.

    He continued, emboldened. "You have one week to vacate the research facility. Thend belongs to Simpson Group. We¡¯re taking it back."

    I felt Rachel¡¯s breath hitch beside me.

    He was serious.

    Jack¡¯s tone dropped an octave as he stepped back from the table. "You forced my hand, Anna."

    He walked to the door. One by one, the others followed. "One week," he said as he left. "Get your people and your boy out."

    The door closed.

    Silence echoed in the room. Cold. Absolute.

    Daniel looked at me. "Was he bluffing?"

    I didn¡¯t need to think. "No."

    Jack had always been a man who paraded his power, especially during our marriage. He used Lucy as a trophy, never once caring how public their affair was. But now, divorced and bitter, he wanted to control me like I was still his.

    It wasughable.

    And dangerous.

    Rachel looked visibly shaken. Daniel stared at the door like it might explode open again.

    "Go back to your departments," I told them. "Business as usual. I¡¯ll handle this."

    "But¡ª"

    "Phoenix belongs to both our families. Jack doesn¡¯t get to destroy it because I won¡¯t bend to him."

    As Daniel left, I pulled out my phone and messaged Sean:

    Don¡¯t worry. Stay calm. I¡¯ve got this.

    Back at Shaw Corp, I paced my office. The ss walls felt too thin, the city beyond too far away. Phoenix had been my passion project something I created after our wedding to unite our families. Jack had supported it, in theory. Now he wanted to tear it apart just to punish me.

    I couldn¡¯t rece Simpson Group¡¯s resources overnight.

    And I sure as hell wasn¡¯t going to fire Sean.

    I sat, fuming, weighing legal options and alternative sites when my phone rang.

    Mr. Simpson¡¯s assistant.

    "Ms. Shaw," she said crisply. "The Chairman requests your presence at the Simpson residence. Immediately."

    A pause.

    "He said it¡¯s not a request."

    I stood.

    If the lion wanted to see me I¡¯d walk into the den myself.

    Unshaken.

    Unbowed.

    Unbroken.

 Chapter 18: The Cost of Power

    <h4>Chapter 18: The Cost of Power</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "Ms. Shaw, the Simpsons have requested your presence at their residence immediately."

    The message shed across my phone screen, stark and direct.

    I stared at it for a few seconds, thumb hovering over the screen. I could feel the slow curl of irritation wrapping around my chest. Then I typed my reply with clipped precision:

    "I¡¯ll be there in an hour."

    From across the room, Rachel looked up from herptop, brows furrowing in concern. "You¡¯re actually going?"

    "Know your enemy," I said coolly, gathering my coat and phone. "And right now, the Simpsons are definitely the enemy."

    The drive to the Simpson estate felt longer than usual, each minute dragged down by the weight of anticipation. As my car rolled past the towering wrought iron gates and crunched over the gravel driveway, I spotted Lucy¡¯s sleek ck sedan parked right at the entrance. Front and center.

    Not just a coincidence.

    A deration.

    She was staking her im.

    Inside, the grand foyer was flooded with warm afternoon light, but it couldn¡¯t thaw the chill that settled in my spine. The moment my heels clicked against the marble floor, Lucy appeared like she¡¯d been waiting.

    "Anna!" she trilled, rising to her feet in a tailored ivory dress that screamed I belong here. Her voice was syrupy-sweet and utterly insincere. "Thank you foring so quickly. Let me take your coat."

    Without waiting for my response, she gestured to the staff with the elegance of a woman who¡¯d already decided this was her home. The servants moved like they were following her cue.

    She led me to the drawing room, where Jack sat nked by his parents.

    George Simpson stood by the firece, hands sped behind his back, expression carved from granite. Mary Simpson lounged on a velvet chair like she was sitting on a throne, her gaze raking over me with obvious disdain.

    "Anna," George said, nodding curtly. "Sit down."

    "I prefer to stand, thank you." My voice was even, calm. My refusal was a small but deliberate assertion of control.

    George didn¡¯t appreciate it.

    "It¡¯s about your recent behavior," he said, voice low and authoritative decades of boardroom experience distilled into each syble. "Specifically, your appointment of that... individual from Olympus Club to a position of authority within Phoenix."

    I didn¡¯t blink. "Sean Smith is a highly qualified MIT graduate."

    "He¡¯s a prostitute," Mary snapped, her knuckles whitening around the armrest. "You¡¯ve brought shame to both our families with this... arrangement."

    I raised an eyebrow. "Arrangement?"

    "Don¡¯t insult our intelligence." Mary¡¯s cheeks flushed with fury. "A divorced woman, alone, unting her needs like a scandalous badge."

    Lucy reentered with a tea tray, cing it down with studied grace. "Sugar, Anna?" Her voice dripped with false civility.

    I ignored her entirely.

    "Sean¡¯s appointment is based on merit, not assumptions," I said.

    "His ¡¯merit¡¯," Mary muttered darkly.

    Jack, silent until now, finally spoke. "This isn¡¯t just about image, Anna. Having someone like him as a face of a joint venture is uneptable."

    "Someone like him?" I repeated coolly. "You mean intelligent,petent, and loyal?"

    Jack¡¯s jaw clenched. "Someone who sells himself."

    The insult hung in the air like smoke. My temper red, but I kept my voiceposed.

    "Coming from a man who couldn¡¯t stay faithful through his own wedding night, that¡¯s rich."

    Mary gasped. "How dare you bring that up!"

    George stepped forward, fire flickering behind him. "Do you know what this could do to our reputation? If this scandal leaks Phoenix could copse."

    "Then maybe focus on the project, not my personal life," I said.

    Mary stood suddenly. "Have you even thought about your mother? Your grandmother? What they¡¯ll feel when the city whispers that you¡¯ve taken up with a... a male escort?"

    I felt the cold burn of fury, deep and quiet.

    "My family is not your concern," I said.

    "They will be when I call Elizabeth myself," Mary shot back. "She¡¯d be devastated to learn what you¡¯ve be."

    I drew in a breath. "My mother respects my independence. This has nothing to do with her."

    George loomed closer. "Anna, dismiss this man. Immediately."

    "With all due respect, George," I said calmly, "my hiring decisions are not open for debate."

    Jack¡¯s voice sharpened. "Even if it costs you Phoenix?"

    "Phoenix is mine as much as yours," I reminded him. "And personnel decisions fall under my jurisdiction."

    "You¡¯re being unreasonable," George snapped. "If you can¡¯t be trusted with a basic decision like this, how can we trust you with the future of the project?"

    "If I cave now, what message does that send to Shaw Corp? That our leadership is swayed by gossip and social bias?"

    Jack stood beside his father. "You have one day, Anna. One day to reconsider and fire Sean. If you don¡¯t..."

    I tilted my head. "If I don¡¯t?"

    He didn¡¯t finish the threat.

    "You¡¯re already making moves behind my back," I said, voice clipped. "Spare me the dramatics. I know where this is heading."

    "There are consequences you haven¡¯t considered," Jack warned.

    "I look forward to them," I said, already walking toward the door. "We¡¯re done here."

    I didn¡¯t make it far before Lucy appeared again, trotting after me like she actually thought I cared.

    "Anna, wait!" she called, her tone pitched with false concern. "Please, let¡¯s talk. Just us."

    I paused, more curious than anything. "Talk?"

    She dropped her voice. "I know you probably resent me for bing GM at Phoenix... but that was Jack¡¯s decision, not mine. I don¡¯t even care about the project. I don¡¯t understand R&D, Anna."

    I raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

    She continued, "But Jack said this is the only way I¡¯ll be respected. That taking Phoenix¡¯s core tech will solidify my role. But I don¡¯t want it. If you fire Sean, I¡¯ll make sure the core technology stays with you."

    My stomach turned.

    So it was never about Sean. Not really. This was Lucy, again. Always Lucy.

    She smiled nervously. "If you care about Sean, you can keep him on the side for now. Bring him back once things settle. No one will care then. Phoenix is your passion. I don¡¯t want to take that."

    I stared at her, then slowly smiled a cold, bitter thing.

    "You don¡¯t want to take what¡¯s mine?"

    She blinked. "What... what do you mean?"

    "You talk too much, Lucy," I said quietly. "Save the maniption for the Simpsons. They¡¯re the only ones who still believe you."

    Her expression faltered.

    I walked out of the estate, my mind racing. Whether Jack wanted to give Phoenix to Lucy or Lucy wanted to take it, the oue would be the same. They wanted my project my work, my vision to be a pawn in their power game.

    They thought I would fold.

    Let them try.

    I don¡¯t lose what¡¯s mine. Not without a fight.

 Chapter 19: Glass & Fire

    <h4>Chapter 19: ss & Fire</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    The dim lighting of the upscale bar couldn¡¯t mask my misery as I signaled the bartender for another drink. My third? Fourth? I¡¯d lost count. The smooth jazz ying in the background felt like it was mocking my inner turmoil.

    "Ms. Shaw, perhaps we should consider heading back," Rachel suggested from her position beside me, her voice carefully professional despite the concern in her eyes.

    I ignored her, downing the amber liquid in one swift motion. The burn in my throat was a wee distraction from the inferno of anger and hurt zing inside me. This wasn¡¯t my usual style Anna Shaw didn¡¯t drink herself into oblivion in public. But tonight was different.

    "Another," I demanded, sliding the empty ss forward.

    Rachel frowned but didn¡¯t argue. She¡¯d been with me long enough to know when to push and when to stand back.

    Tonight, her job was simple: keep the vultures away while I nursed my wounds with expensive whiskey.

    This was the second time I looked like this. The first was when Jack asked Lucy to be the head of the Phoenix Project, and Jack and I had a big quarrel. I¡¯d known then that I had to leave him. The divorce papers had been filed the following week.

    And now, here I was again drowning my sorrows because Jack Simpson was still finding ways to wound me. Even divorced, even supposedly moving on with his life, he couldn¡¯t let me have this one thing. He couldn¡¯t bear to see me seed without him.

    "They want to take everything," I muttered, not caring if Rachel heard me. "My project. My technology. My dignity."

    I took another sip, wincing at the burn. The bar had grown more crowded as the night wore on, businessmen loosening their ties, couples leaning into each other, everyone seeking connection or escape.

    I envied their simplicity.

    "Jack hates me that much," I continued, my voice rough. "He hates me enough to destroy something valuable just to see me lose."

    Since taking over Shaw Corp after my father¡¯s death, I¡¯d faced countless challenges skeptical board members, condescendingpetitors, relentless market pressures. None of it had broken me. I¡¯d fought through every obstacle with determination and strategy, never giving my opponents the satisfaction of seeing me crumble.

    But Jack¨C" Jack knew exactly where to stick the knife. He understood that Phoenix wasn¡¯t just another project; it was my vision for the future of Shaw Corp.

    And he was willing to sacrifice it all just to put me in my ce.

    The alcohol was making my thoughts fuzzy around the edges, but the core hurt remained sharp and clear. In all the years I¡¯d known him, I¡¯d never imagined Jack could be so vindictive.

    I¡¯d been wrong.

    "Ms. Shaw," Rachel¡¯s voice cut through my thoughts. "I think we should go."

    "Fine," I muttered. "One more drink."

    Rachel nodded and stepped away, presumably to settle the tab.

    I felt strong arms lifting me from the barstool. My first instinct was to resist, but my limbs felt heavy and uncooperative.

    "Rachel?" I mumbled, assuming my assistant had returned and decided I needed more direct intervention.

    There was no answer, just the steady movement as I was carried through what felt like the kitchen area toward a back exit. The sounds of the bar faded, reced by the distant hum of traffic and the muffled noise of the city at night.

    "Where are we going?" I slurred, trying to focus on the face above me.

    The street lights were too bright, making me squint.

    I clutched at thepels of an expensive suit jacket, suddenly overwhelmed by emotion. All the frustration, hurt, and exhaustion I¡¯d been holding back came rushing to the surface.

    "It¡¯s so hard," I confessed, my voice cracking. "So damn hard. I¡¯m barely twenty, and I¡¯m fighting all these battles alone." Tears pricked at my eyes, hot and unwee. "Nobody helps me. Nobody understands what I¡¯m going through."

    The person carrying me remained silent, but their arms tightened slightly, offering a strange kind offort.

    "I¡¯m so tired," I whispered, the fight draining out of me. My head dropped against a solid chest, and I frowned at the unyielding firmness I encountered.

    "Rachel, where¡¯s... where¡¯s your chest? It¡¯s... hard."

    A strange, wild anger surged through me, fueled by alcohol and days of frustration. "I should go to Sean," I dered suddenly, my words slurring together. "Right now. I should go to him and..." Iughed, a bitter, reckless sound. "I¡¯ll show them all how much I need him. We¡¯ll have sex all night, and Jack can go to hell."

    My head feels heavy, filled with lead, the alcohol turning everything into a blur of light and noise. The bed beneath me sways like I¡¯m on a ship, and my limbs feel like they¡¯ve been reced with soaked fabric. I don¡¯t remember getting here just shes of streetlights, a stranger¡¯s chest, the weight of exhaustion pressing me down.

    Someone¡¯s there. Not Rachel. Not Jack.

    A man¡¯s silhouette hovers above, blurry at the edges, his breath warm against my cheek. His hand brushes my thigh intentional, lingering. I flinch, but my body won¡¯t respond fast enough. My muscles scream to move, to push back, but I¡¯m slow, like I¡¯m swimming through syrup.

    "Stop," I manage, barely above a whisper.

    He pauses, his hand retracting slightly. A tense silence follows. Then a deep voice not unfamiliar speaks.

    "You don¡¯t even know who you trust anymore, do you?"

    It¡¯s not a question. It¡¯s a challenge. A knife turned slowly.

    My eyes finally focus. Recognition is a jolt to the chest. My breath catches. It can¡¯t be.

    "You," I choke out.

    He smirks, calm andposed. "You really think they care? Jack? Sean? They left you like this. But I didn¡¯t."

    My heart pounds, cold fear cutting through the alcohol.

    "I should go to Sean," I blurt, desperately trying to shift the power back. "He¡¯d know how to handle me. He wouldn¡¯t leave me on the floor."

    "You¡¯re not going anywhere tonight," he replies, and not unkindly. He leans closer, his voice lowering. "You break, Anna. And then you pretend like you didn¡¯t."

    I stare at him. At the man I once thought of as irrelevant.

    His hand brushes my hair back, tucking it behind my ear in a gesture that feels too intimate, too wrong. But I don¡¯t stop him. I don¡¯t know how.

    "I¡¯m not here to hurt you," he says. "But if you keep pretending none of this matters... someone else will."

    The warning is clear.

    I curl into myself, knees bent, arms crossed, trying to build a wall out of broken ss. "I¡¯m tired," I whisper.

    "I know."

    Silence stretches between us, taut with unspoken things.

    He doesn¡¯t touch me again. Just sits there, close enough to feel, distant enough to burn.

    And I realize: this isn¡¯t safety.

    It¡¯s a different kind of danger.

    One I let in.

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I woke the next morning feeling like I¡¯d been hit by a truck. Every muscle in my body ached, screaming in protest with even the slightest movement.

    Rachel stood beside the bed, her face pale and stricken as she clutched a shopping bag. My dress fromst night was crumpled in the trash like a discarded rag, far from the elegant designer piece it once was.

    I pulled back the covers and stared at myself in horror. Bruises and marks painted across my skin like some twisted souvenir.

    "What the hell...?"

    "I¡¯m so sorry, Ms. Shaw," Rachel said, her voice thick with guilt. "This is my fault. I shouldn¡¯t have left you alone, even to pay the bill. I¡ª"

    "It¡¯s not your fault," I interrupted firmly, tossing the covers aside and standing despite the pain. "Was it him again?"

    Rachel¡¯s eyes widened at the sight of my body. She quickly handed me a robe. "Most likely. I looked everywhere for you every hotel near the bar. I was about to call the police when someone sent me your hotel and room number from your phone. By the time I got there, he was already gone. The strangest thing? The bar¡¯s security footage fromst night is missingpletely wiped."

    Of course it was. That level of control, those methods... it had to be him again.

    What the hell was going on? Was he addicted to sleeping with me or something?

    I forced myself to calm down. Somehow, it hurt a little less this time. Maybe because I was emotionally numb to it by now. But I had no time to dwell. I had bigger things to deal with.

    "I need to shower first," I said tly, "then we¡¯re going to my mother¡¯s house."

    Once the alcohol and confusion wore off, I knew I had to face reality. I wasn¡¯t going to let the Simpsons manipte my family with whatever lies they¡¯d been spinning.

    At Goldenleaf Manor, my mother greeted me with a brightness that only made my stomach sink. She was too happy.

    "Anna, darling! You¡¯re finally here!"

    Jack had already made his move. I was sure of it.

    But then she continued, eyes sparkling: "Marcus Murphy came by! He brought the most incredible gifts absolute treasures. I was overwhelmed!"

    Marcus?

    I blinked, taken aback. The living room was overflowing with gift boxes stacked like an exhibit. My mother hadn¡¯t exaggerated they were extravagant. Excessively so.

    "Uncle Marcus, you¡¯re here," I greeted him, still stunned. "This is... really too generous."

    Marcus Murphy had no real ties to our family, so this sudden gesture felt odd. During hisst visit, he had mentioned dropping by again, but we all assumed it was just politeness.

    "I haven¡¯t visited in years," he replied smoothly. "Showing respect to my elders is the least I can do."

    I wasn¡¯t sure how my mother counted as his elder, but I let it slide. His intentions seemed good, and it wasn¡¯t in me to be rude.

    Mom wasted no time instructing the kitchen to prepare an borate lunch. The scale of Marcus¡¯s gifts demanded something more than gratitude, and she wanted to reciprocate in whatever way she could.

    I changed clothes and made tea myself, trying to show some gesture of appreciation. With some time before lunch and my grandmother and mother excusing themselves to rest, I found myself alone with Marcus.

    It was awkward. I wasn¡¯t good at small talk, especially not with someone like Marcus, who despite being young, held the intimidating presence of a man used to control.

    Just when the silence was bing unbearable, Marcus asked, "Still struggling with thepany situation?"

    The genuine concern in his voice nearly undid me. I¡¯d hidden so much from my family how alone I¡¯d felt since Dad passed, how suffocating the burden had be. And now someone was finally acknowledging it.

    I managed a small smile. "Thank you for your concern, Uncle Marcus. I¡¯ll handle it."

    He was Jack¡¯s uncle, after all. I couldn¡¯t involve him in the fight with the Simpsons. I owed the Murphy family too much already.

    Marcus¡¯s gaze lingered on me, unreadable. Then he nodded, taking a sip of tea like the perfect gentleman. "If you need help, just say the word."

    His words meant more than he realized. I envied Catherine a little. With someone like Marcus in her corner, it was no wonder she walked through life so confidently.

    My family had no such protector. That¡¯s exactly why the Simpsons treated us like we were expendable.

    But those days were over.

    "Thank you, Uncle Marcus. But this is something I have to do myself."

    Lunch ended with my mother meticulously reviewing Marcus¡¯s gift list. Her hands trembled as she read out loud, "A vintage brooch, a wristwatch, an antique tea set... and a box of natural pearls?"

    The box of pearls was stunning wless, glowing, nearly priceless. My mother was visibly enchanted, her inner girl reawakened.

    "Let¡¯s send a gift back to William," Grandmother said. "Something meaningful."

    "William likes calligraphy, doesn¡¯t he?" Mom added. "We have that painting set..."

    I felt both touched and saddened. Only in recent years, thanks to my hard work at Shaw Corp, had our social standing begun to recover. The Murphys had never turned their backs on us. The rest? They¡¯d only ever waited like vultures, hoping we¡¯d crumble so they could pick apart what remained.

    "I¡¯ll handle it," I told them seriously. "By the way, if anyone from the Simpson familyes by, don¡¯t entertain them. Especially Jack."

    My mother tensed. "Did something happen?"

    "Just some disagreements over Phoenix," I said lightly.

    Their expressions darkened. They still hadn¡¯t forgiven Jack for bringing Lucy into the project.

    "If it¡¯s about Phoenix, do what you need to," Grandmother said. "We won¡¯t interfere."

    That support meant everything.

    Leaving Goldenleaf Manor, I felt renewed. Stronger.

    I called Jack directly. It was time to end this.

    He arrived quickly with Lucy clinging to his side.

    "Come to your senses?" he asked smugly, like he already knew he¡¯d won.

    "I have," I replied coolly. "And this is thest time we¡¯ll talk about Sean."

    Jack blinked. I didn¡¯t give him time to respond.

    "First, Sean stays. He¡¯s already uncovered crucial evidence, and I trust his abilities. I won¡¯t fire him. Second, I agree to your second condition but I will not share Phoenix¡¯s core technology with Simpson Group."

    Jack¡¯s smile faded.

    "Andstly, if you can¡¯t ept that, then our partnership is over."

    Silence.

    Lucy shifted beside him, her expression uneasy.

    "You can¡¯t be serious," Jack finally said, voice tight. "You¡¯d sacrifice the entire Phoenix Project over some... some boy toy?"

    I met his gaze without flinching. "Watch me."

 Chapter 20: Terms of Survival

    <h4>Chapter 20: Terms of Survival</h4>

    Lucy¡¯s POV

    My heart stopped the moment Anna¡¯s words cut through the room like a de:

    "Then we terminate our partnership."

    The floor tilted beneath me, panic surging like a tidal wave up my throat. No, this wasn¡¯t how it was supposed to go. Anna Shaw was meant to crack under pressure not flip the entire damn table.

    She¡¯s bluffing, I told myself, clinging to the hope like a lifeline. She has to be bluffing.

    The Phoenix Project was a guaranteed win. No sane executive would walk away from a goldmine over some glorified escort.

    But the look in Anna¡¯s eyes wasn¡¯t the look of someone bluffing. It was cold. Unflinching. Calcted.

    I forced a calm expression onto my face, though my mind spiraled through the implications. Without Phoenix, I¡¯d lose everything my position, my leverage. My title as General Manager wasn¡¯t just a job; it was my legitimacy in the eyes of the Simpson family.

    Months of carefully cultivated goodwill with Mary Simpson would vanish. All that effort to position myself as the perfect daughter-inw alternative gone.

    Have they all lost their minds? I thought, watching this absurd standoff unfold. Phoenix was bulletproof. The research, the market projections it was built to seed.

    And then it hit me: Anna wasn¡¯t bluffing.

    She was calling ours.

    She knew Jack wouldn¡¯t risk terminating the deal. She was gambling that he needed Phoenix just as badly as Shaw Corp did.

    Then, as if to twist the knife deeper, Anna spoke again.

    "Actually, I have apromise," she said, her voice a velvet trap. "Jack fires Lucy. I fire Sean. We both bring in new, qualified managers for Phoenix."

    The fake smile I¡¯d stered on my face faltered.

    "Oh, Anna," I said with a brittleugh. "You¡¯re such a joker."

    But inside, panic was bubbling up like boiling water. No. No. No. This wasn¡¯t happening. I turned to Jack, pleading silently, willing him not to even consider it.

    "This is ridiculous," Jack snapped, his face darkening. "You¡¯re just trying to get revenge on Lucy because of our past."

    "Revenge?" Anna arched a brow, ice-cold. "Please, Jack. You¡¯re ancient history. I couldn¡¯t care less about your love life."

    I saw Jack flinch Anna knew exactly where to strike. His ego was always his soft spot, and she hit it with surgical precision.

    "This is about Phoenix," she continued coolly. "Nothing more, nothing less."

    My hands curled into fists beneath the table, nails digging into my palms as I kept my smile frozen in ce. Everything I¡¯d built was bncing on a knife¡¯s edge. If Jack took this deal, I wouldn¡¯t just lose my title I¡¯d lose the only real power I had in the Simpson family. The moment I stopped being useful, Mary Simpson would drop me like a bad investment.

    I will not let this happen.

    Just as I began mentally strategizing my next move, the office door opened with a deliberate swing, and in walked Marcus Murphy like a storm in a suit. The air seemed to shift, heavy with his presence.

    Even Jack looked smaller.

    "My father asked me to mediate," Marcus announced, taking the head seat without pause. His voice rang with the kind of authority that silenced a room faster than a mmed gavel.

    "Uncle Marcus¡ª" I began, trying to y the family card.

    His eyes, sharp and cial, snapped to mine.

    "Ms. Taylor," he said, voice clipped. "I don¡¯t recall granting you permission to address me so intimately."

    My face flushed with humiliation. I could feel their stares, their silent judgment. The mistress ying at being family.

    Still, I straightened my spine. I wouldn¡¯t be dismissed.

    "As General Manager of Phoenix," I said, steadying my voice, "I have some suggestions to resolve this situation."

    Marcus said nothing, but his impassive stare made me want to crawl under the table. Still, I pushed forward. I had to.

    "First," I began, keeping my tone measured, "Shaw Corp couldpensate for the data breach by offering Simpson Group an additional 2% in profit share."

    I nced at Anna, watching for her reaction. When she gave a small nod, my confidence grew.

    "Second," I continued, "we divide responsibilities more clearly Shaw handles R&D and production, while Simpson takes charge of marketing and sales. This protects bothpanies¡¯ core interests."

    To my surprise, Anna considered the terms without protest.

    This was working.

    Truthfully, I¡¯d hated managing production. Too many moving parts, constant technical issues I barely understood. Offloading it while keeping my title? Ideal.

    "Finally," I added, "regarding Mr. Smith he could stay on until the data theft investigation is concluded. Once resolved, we revisit his role."

    Silence fell like a curtain.

    All eyes turned to Marcus.

    He was still, unreadable. Then finally,

    "Ms. Shaw?" he asked.

    "The terms are eptable," Anna said coolly. "If Jack agrees."

    I turned to Jack, holding my breath. His jaw was tight, resentment clear in every line of his face. He didn¡¯t like it but before he could speak, Marcus intervened.

    "Jack," Marcus said with deliberate weight, "My father is considering a significant investment in Shaw Corp."

    The message was clear. A warning, wrapped in velvet.

    Jack hesitated, his mouth opening and closing once, twice. Then, through gritted teeth:

    "Fine. I agree to the terms."

    Relief washed through me like cool water.

    I¡¯d done it.

    My position was safe, production was no longer my problem, and I was still in the game.

    But I knew one thing with certainty Anna Shaw wasn¡¯t finished.

    And neither was I.

    Anna¡¯s POV

    After everyone left, I turned to Marcus with a small, grateful smile. "I owe you dinner, at the very least. Are you free tonight?"

    His gaze held mine, steady and unreadable. "I am."

    Le Ciel was the sort of ce that required booking months in advance, but the ma?tre d¡¯ nearly stumbled over himself when Marcus arrived. Within minutes, we were escorted to a private dining room overlooking Skyview City¡¯s glittering skyline.

    "Uncle Marcus," I began once we had ordered, my tone sincere, "I can¡¯t thank you enough for today. Without your intervention, Shaw Corp and Simpson Group would¡¯ve imploded."

    He satfortably across from me, his presence calm butmanding every inch the man who didn¡¯t need to raise his voice to dominate a room.

    "You gave away too much," he said. "Two percent profit share? That¡¯s not a small concession."

    I shook my head, oddly at peace despite the numbers. "You actually helped me more than you realize. I was prepared to walk away from Phoenix altogether. But now the project lives on with fewer headaches." A rueful smile tugged at my lips.

    "The data breach happened under Shaw Corp¡¯s roof. Like it or not, we hold part of the me. Simpson Group had every right to demand something. If someone¡¯s deliberately targeting Phoenix, that extra share is a small price to pay to keep them close." I lifted my ss. "An expensive lesson... but one I won¡¯t be repeating."

    Marcus studied me, his gaze sharp. "You don¡¯t feel cheated?"

    I took a slow sip of wine before setting the ss down. "When I fall, I get up. I don¡¯t waste time on self-pity." The past few weeks had burned away my illusions and left something harder in their ce resolve. "This ordeal revealed a lot about the people around me. It cost me, sure but now I know who I¡¯m really dealing with."

    I raised my ss again. "To you, Uncle Marcus. I¡¯m grateful."

    He clinked his ss with mine. The wine was exquisite deep, rich, and smooth. I drank a little too eagerly, letting the warmth spread through me.

    "Slow down," he said gently.

    "I¡¯m celebrating tonight," I replied, a rare lightness in my chest. "You and your father have done so much for us. I don¡¯t know how to repay you."

    Something shifted in Marcus¡¯s expression then. "Actually... there is something you could help me with."

    I blinked, curious and a little breathless. "If it¡¯s within my power, I¡¯ll do it."

    A rare smile curved his lips, and I couldn¡¯t help but stare. "Uncle Marcus... you¡¯re smiling!"

    His smile deepened, softening his usually severe features. "Am I so terrifying to you?"

    "No! I¡¯m not afraid of you," Iughed quickly, then added, "But Catherine is. She says no one dares contradict you."

    He let out a warm, unexpectedugh deep and rich, sending a strange flutter through me.

    "That¡¯s only because I¡¯m hardly home. They treat me with far too much caution."

    We talked through the meal, the conversation easier than I¡¯d imagined. By my third ss, I felt loose and happy. By the fifth, the world had softened around the edges.

    At some point, Marcus suggested it was time to leave. After that darkness.

    "Anna! Honestly, you¡¯re going to ruin your liver!"

    My mother¡¯s voice sliced through my foggy brain like a de. I groaned, cracking open one eye to see her standing over my bed, holding a steaming mug and a familiar look of disapproval.

    "Mom?" I croaked. "What time is it?"

    "Nearly noon," she said, pressing the mug into my hands. "Drink this. Hangover soup."

    I sat up slowly, epting the bitter brew. "You scared me."

    She perched beside me, her frown softening into concern. "You should take it easy. Drinking like that isn¡¯t healthy."

    "I was happy yesterday," I said, resting my head on her shoulder. "The Phoenix mess is over. Uncle Marcus saved everything. I took him to dinner to thank him and... might¡¯ve gone overboard."

    She stroked my hair gently, but I could feel tension in her hands.

    "Annie," she said after a pause, "Marcus is family. Don¡¯t you think his interest in you is... a bit much?"

    I pulled back slightly, blinking at her. "Grandpa William asked him to mediate. And Uncle Marcus has always been kind. I wish I had more rtives like him."

    She didn¡¯t respond immediately. Then, in a voice touched with unease, she said, "Just be careful. Men like Marcus Murphy... they always have their reasons."

    I frowned. "What do you mean?"

    She shook her head. "Nothing specific. Just a mother¡¯s instinct." She stood, smoothing her skirt. "I¡¯m off. Brunch with the girls."

    Once she left, Iy back against the pillows, trying to recall the evening. The restaurant. The wine. Marcus¡¯s smile... then nothing.

    How did I get home?

    I grabbed my phone and messaged Rachel. Her response was immediate: Mr. Murphy brought you home. Told the staff not to disturb you today. Said you needed rest.

    I stared at the message. Marcus had personally taken care of me? The fearsome, untouchable Marcus Murphy had brought me home and protected my dignity?

    I buried my face in the pillow, equal parts embarrassed and moved. I¡¯d have to thank him formally.

    By the time I went downstairs, my headache had dulled to a manageable throb. Mom was back and clearly upset.

    "What¡¯s wrong?" I asked, curling up across from her.

    She exhaled sharply. "Mary. We fought again."

    "What happened now?"

    "She said that Sean that Sean is the reason you got into trouble with Jack. Is it true? And is he really from... a ce like that?"

    I froze, pulse quickening. So rumors had started. And Mom had heard.

    Trouble wasing. Again.

 Chapter 21: Red and Resolve

    <h4>Chapter 21: Red and Resolve</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    After exining for what felt like the hundredth time that I had nothing to do with Sean beyond professional admiration and that I¡¯d let him and his team join the Phoenix Project solely because of his talent my mother and grandmother finally believed me.

    I told them again about Sean¡¯s past: a top student forced by circumstance to work at the Olympus Club. This time, something shifted. Sympathy flickered in their eyes. My mother even wept.

    The next day, Sean called with an update.

    "The person who stole the data has been identified," he said, his voice taut. "But he¡¯s gone."

    We gathered in the conference room. I sat at the head of the table, posture calm by design, though a storm brewed beneath my surface. Sean stood beside the screen, swiping through surveince footage.

    "We¡¯ve identified him as John Fisher a graduate student who worked under Mr. Torres," Sean announced, pausing on a frame showing the young man slipping a sh drive into his pocket. "He vanished the day after the breach."

    Trevor Torres, our chief engineer, looked hollow like the guilt had been eating him alive.

    "Ms. Shaw," he said, voice low and heavy. "I¡¯m so sorry. I misjudged him and brought this mess into thepany."

    Before I could respond, an all-too-familiar sneer echoed across the room.

    "So your student stealspany data, and you think a weak apology absolves you? How do we know you weren¡¯t both involved?"

    I looked up sharply. "What are you doing here?"

    Lucy folded her arms, perfectly poised in her smugness. "As General Manager of Phoenix, I have every right to be here when there¡¯s an update about the breach."

    My patience, already on a knife¡¯s edge from weeks of power ys, snapped.

    "Yesterday¡¯s agreement was crystal clear: Simpson Group handles marketing and sales. The research facility is none of your concern and frankly, you wouldn¡¯t understand what goes on here even if it were."

    A blush crept up her neck, but she forced aposed smile.

    "There¡¯s no need to be so harsh. This still concerns Phoenix, after all. We¡¯ll keep the breach quiet¡ªfor the sake of the project. But I hope you resolve this fast. The market won¡¯t wait. Simpson Group needs your product ready to sell."

    She turned and walked off with a final click of her heels. I nodded to Rachel, who quietly locked the door behind her.

    Turning back to Sean, I asked, "Any leads?"

    He shook his head. "Roommate hasn¡¯t seen him since the incident. No one suspected John would do this. By the time we put the pieces together, it was toote."

    I tapped my fingers on the table, mind racing. "Check his social circles. There must be a link somewhere."

    Sean gave me a nod, the same suspicion darkening his gaze. "There¡¯s something off," I said. "He would¡¯ve known those were discarded test results. Why steal worthless data? Unless they weren¡¯t worthless."

    I met Sean¡¯s eyes. We were on the same page now.

    "Clear Trevor¡¯s name. Get him back on the project. We don¡¯t have time for dys."

    "Yes, Ms. Shaw."

    That evening, I brought only Rachel to the business party. I chose my armor well: a ck satin mermaid gown paired with a crisp white zer. My hair was pinned in a ssic chignon, power polished into every detail.

    The moment we arrived, we were surrounded.

    "Such a waste to spend your youth behind a desk," one man leered. "A beautiful woman like you should be enjoying life."

    "My son¡¯s recently divorced," another added. "Harvard Law. You two would have so much inmon."

    I smiled thinly. "I enjoy running mypany."

    Not one of them asked about business. I scanned the room for an exit and finally escaped with a well-ced excuse.

    Then he appeared.

    Tall. Expensively dressed. Arrogant smile firmly in ce like he¡¯d never heard the word "no."

    "Beautifuldy, may I buy you a drink?" he asked, his eyes shamelessly raking over me.

    "Get lost," I said tly.

    He didn¡¯t budge. Instead, his smile curdled.

    "What¡¯s your name, sweetheart?"

    I tried to step around him, but he grabbed my wrist hard.

    "ying hard to get? That¡¯s fine. I like a challenge. I always get what I want. Tonight, that¡¯s you."

    The fury that had been simmering all day erupted.

    "Are you sure I¡¯m the one who¡¯ll have a difficult evening?"

    From the corner of my eye, I saw Jack and Lucy watching. Jack¡¯s expression was unreadable. Detached. He didn¡¯t move.

    The man sneered. "Don¡¯t joke, baby. Money, power name it. You¡¯re mine tonight."

    Enough.

    I plucked a ss of red wine from a passing tray and dumped it onto his white shirt.

    "I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m far out of your league," I said calmly.

    His face twisted with fury, and he lunged, fingers reaching for me.

    But before he could touch me, a strong arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me into the safety of a firm chest.

    I looked up and met Marcus Murphy¡¯s eyes.

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Startled, I looked up and found myself staring into the dark,manding eyes of Marcus Murphy.

    "Uncle Marcus?" I breathed, my anger momentarily giving way to shock. "You¡¯re here too?"

    Relief crept into my voice before I could stop it. I hadn¡¯t expected him, but his presence felt like a lifeline.

    Marcus¡¯s gaze lingered on me, unreadable. "Just checking in."

    It was only then I realized he still had his arm around my waist. Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I stepped back quickly, unnerved by how flustered I felt. "Thank you... for the rescue."

    His eyes swept over me, evaluating. "Where¡¯s your assistant?"

    "Rachel went to the car to grab something for me," I muttered, cursing her timing. If she¡¯d been here, that man never would¡¯ve gotten close.

    Unfortunately, the harasser hadn¡¯t backed down. Wine-stained shirt and all, he stood his ground, ring between Marcus and me. "So you like older men? Interesting taste."

    Marcus¡¯s face darkened. The warmth disappeared from his features, reced by something cold and dangerous. Without a word, he gave a subtle nod to his right-hand man.

    "Remove him," he said, his voice sharp as ice.

    The words sent a chill down my spine.

    "What the fuck? Do you even know who I am? Touch me and see what happens!" the man sputtered as Peter Reed closed in.

    With precise efficiency, Peter silenced him, gripping his arm and covering his mouth before escorting him from the ballroom. The entire exchange was handled so cleanly, most guests didn¡¯t even notice.

    Marcus turned back to me, calm as ever. "I have some friends I¡¯d like you to meet."

    My heart skipped. The Murphywork? That kind of ess had always been withheld from me during my marriage to Jack, despite William Murphy¡¯s affection. The Simpson family guarded their resources like a fortress Jack had made sure I remained on the outside.

    "Uncle Marcus, I can¡¯t thank you enough," I said sincerely, struggling to hide the excitement bubbling beneath myposed exterior.

    The corner of his mouth lifted almost a smile.

    "Shall we?"

    He led me toward a private section of the ballroom where several older men stood in quiet conversation. I recognized them instantly heavyweights of Skyview City¡¯s financial elite. I¡¯d seen them at events before, but never spoken to them. There was always a silent boundary I hadn¡¯t been allowed to cross.

    Until now.

    Marcus made the introductions effortlessly, his hand resting lightly at the small of my back as he guided me through the circle. I fell into my role with ease polished, respectful, asking sharp but respectful questions, and offering thoughtful insights.

    To my surprise, they responded warmly, clearly swayed by Marcus¡¯s implicit endorsement. By the end of the introductions, I had more than just handshakes I had promises. Promises of meetings, connections, and coboration. It would¡¯ve taken me years to get this far on my own.

    I filed away each name and number, mentally charting my next moves. Shaw Corp needed allies. Tonight, I¡¯d gained several.

    But just as I began to savor this rare sess, Joseph Walker¡¯s voice cut through the hum of conversation.

    "I¡¯ve heard Skke District is up for redevelopment. Any of you gentlemen interested? If not, I might make a move myself."

    I froze, champagne halfway to my lips.

    Skke District.

    The same neighborhood where my mother¡¯s family home the Shaw ancestral mansion stood. That house was thest thread tying us to her childhood, to her memories. If it became part of some development n...

    "Skke?" one investor scoffed, swirling his brandy. "Mostly wends and worn-down homes. What¡¯s the appeal?"

    Joseph shrugged, eyes gleaming. "Just keeping options open. Heard Simpson Group has their eye on it."

    My pulse quickened. Jack¡¯s aggressive bidding at the auction suddenly made sense. It hadn¡¯t been about me it had been business. Cold, calcted.

    The mansion wasn¡¯t just a keepsake from my mother¡¯s past. It was a strategic acquisition in an area that was about to explode in value.

    And I had been too blinded by emotion to see it.

    I took a slow sip of champagne, masking the dread rising in my chest. My grandfather had sold that house in desperation. Now someone else owned it. And if they were part of this redevelopment... it could be demolished.

    Unless I stopped it.

    I nced at Marcus. He was still engaged in the conversation, his expression neutral but when our eyes met, I had the distinct impression he already knew exactly what I was thinking.

    The topic soon shifted to other ventures, but my mind was elsewhere, racing with possibilities. I had to find out who bought the mansion. That outrageous 200-million-dor bid at the auction it hadn¡¯te from Jack or me. Someone else had wanted that property badly.

    If I could find them... maybe I could offer more.

    For my mother, for our legacy I would do whatever it took.

    As the evening wound down, I kept up appearances, smiling and nodding, but inside I was plotting. I needed information. And fast.

    When I spotted Marcus slipping away toward a quiet side corridor, I seized my chance. I excused myself from a lingering conversation and followed, quickening my pace as he turned the corner.

    "Uncle Marcus," I called, my voice low but firm.

    He stopped and turned, his expression as unreadable as always.

    "About what Joseph said... the Skke District." I paused, steadying my breath. There was no point being vague. "My mother¡¯s family home the mansion that went up for auction it¡¯s there. I need to find out who bought it. You have connections everywhere... Can you help me?"

 Chapter 22: The Smile That Wasnâ€™t Mine

    <h4>Chapter 22: The Smile That Wasn¡¯t Mine</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Marcus studied me with such intensity that I had to resist the urge to look away.

    "That building matters to you."

    It wasn¡¯t a question, but I answered anyway.

    "It¡¯s where my mother grew up." I swallowed hard against the unexpected tightness in my throat. "If it¡¯s going to be demolished for development, I need to try and buy it back first."

    Marcus leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed. "Given the redevelopment ns, the property¡¯s value has likely increased significantly since the auction. The new owner might not be willing to sell."

    "I understand," I said quietly. "But I have to try. My mother¡¯s lost so much already her parents, her husband, and nearly her family¡¯spany before I stepped in. If I can give her back even one piece of her past... her home..." I trailed off, realizing how much of my heart I was exposing. "I¡¯ll pay whatever it takes."

    He was silent for a moment, then finally said, "I¡¯ll have Peter look into it. Expect an update within the week."

    Relief hit me in a soft, grateful wave. "Thank you."

    Later, as the party wound down, Marcus offered to drive me home. I was about to politely decline until I saw Jack and Lucy approaching.

    "Marcus, Anna, are you two heading back?" Lucy¡¯s voice was warm, her face carrying its usual gentle smile.

    I¡¯ve always admired Lucy. No matter the circumstances, no matter what tensiony beneath the surface, she always greeted people with that same effortless grace. I envied that. I, on the other hand, couldn¡¯t even look at someone I disliked without my expression betraying me.

    I turned away from Jack and instead smiled at Marcus.

    "I¡¯ll head home on my own. It¡¯s gettingte you should get some rest too."

    Marcus nced at his watch. "It¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll take you."

    It would¡¯ve been rude to refuse again. Besides, I wasn¡¯t exactly averse to Marcus. Despite his business being mostly overseas, his status in the Murphy family was powerful on par with Catherine¡¯s father. Being in his good graces could only benefit me.

    I nodded, smiling. "Okay. Thank you."

    Jack¡¯s POV

    I watched Anna smile at Marcus and something inside me twisted.

    That smile... it was too warm, too real. It cut into me like a knife.

    How long had it been since she¡¯d smiled at me like that?

    She used to smile that way on our wedding day. That kind of smile was mine once. But now, it was reserved for others.

    She barely looked at me anymore. Treated me like I didn¡¯t exist. imed she loved me and yet, not even two years into our marriage, she demanded a divorce.

    Now, we might as well be strangers.

    Had she ever truly loved me?

    "Uncle Marcus, I¡¯ll take her home," I blurted out, surprising even myself with the sharpness in my voice.

    Marcus¡¯s gaze shifted darker, heavier. The air around us changed.

    Lucy looked startled, forcing a polite smile. "Jack, you two don¡¯t live in the same direction. Don¡¯t you have that early meeting tomorrow?"

    I ignored her. My eyes were on Anna, her expression cool and distant.

    "I¡¯ll drive you," I said firmly, not giving her the chance to object. "There¡¯s no need to trouble Uncle Marcus."

    Anna gave a coldugh. "Then I¡¯d prefer to let Uncle Marcus take me. Don¡¯t trouble yourself, Mr. Simpson. You should focus on getting Ms. Taylor home safely."

    The way she said it formal, biting it struck a nerve. I reached out, grabbing for her arm without thinking.

    She stepped back instinctively, and in the same moment, Marcus reached out and pulled her gently but protectively to his side.

    I froze. My breath caught.

    That gesture, subtle as it was, didn¡¯t feel casual. As a man, I knew exactly what it implied.

    My gaze met Marcus¡¯s. His expression was calm unbothered but there was something unmistakable behind his eyes.

    "I¡¯ll take her home," he said simply.

    The words sounded benign, but to me, they rang like a challenge.

    An absurd thought struck me but I shoved it away.

    "Uncle Marcus, it¡¯s not appropriate," I insisted. "Let me take her."

    Anna raised a brow, her tone mocking. "Uncle Marcus is my elder. How is it inappropriate for him to drive me home? Honestly, Mr. Simpson, I¡¯d feel far less safe getting into a car with you thiste at night."

    Then, she turned to Marcus, her tone softening. "Uncle Marcus, shall we go?"

    Marcus didn¡¯t even nce back. "Go home early," he said to me smoothly.

    And just like that, they walked away.

    I stood frozen, watching her disappear into his car, a storm of emotions roiling inside me jealousy, rage, panic.

    What was their rtionship?

    Why did I feel like I was losing something I hadn¡¯t even realized was slipping through my fingers?

    Back at the Simpson mansion, my parents had just returned from another dinner party.

    "Jack," my mother said eagerly as I stepped in, "I heard your Uncle Marcus was at the event tonight?"

    Perfect. I needed to know more about him anyway.

    "Yes. He was there with Joseph Walker." I tried to sound casual. "He¡¯s been back in the States for a while now. Do you think he¡¯s heading back to Europe soon? I was thinking of taking him out to dinner before he leaves."

    My father nodded approvingly. "You should. Simpson Group needs strong allies in the European market."

    My mother was scrolling through her phone, half-listening. "Mmm. Your uncle might be staying longer. Your aunt said he¡¯s met someone he really likes. William¡¯s thrilled keeps pushing him to bring the girl home, though it hasn¡¯t happened yet."

    The phone nearly slipped from my hand.

    Marcus... met someone?

    My mind snapped back to earlier. That look. The way he touched her.

    No.

    It couldn¡¯t be.

    But what if it was?

    What if Marcus Murphy was interested in Anna?

    Anna¡¯s POV

    When we finally pulled up to the gates of Goldenleaf Manor, I turned to him with genuine gratitude.

    "Thank you for everything today, Uncle Marcus," I said softly in the quiet of the car. "Would you like toe in for some tea before you go?"

    The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, almost imperceptibly. "Not tonight."

    I nodded, surprised at the small sting of disappointment his refusal stirred in me. Stepping out of the car, I leaned down to look through the window.

    "Get some rest, then. I¡¯ll see you at William¡¯s this weekend."

    "Good night, Anna," he replied simply, his expression unreadable as always.

    As his sleek car disappeared around the bend, an odd emptiness settled in my chest. Over the past few weeks, his presence had be a curious constant in my life reassuring in ways I hadn¡¯t expected and couldn¡¯t quite exin. Even this simple goodbye left me feeling strangely bereft.

    I shook my head, brushing off the sensation. It¡¯s just gratitude, I told myself firmly. Nothing more.

    Inside the house, I kicked off the heels that had tormented me all day, sighing in relief as my bare feet touched the cool floor.

    Rachel followed behind me, carrying my coat and handbag.

    "Ms. Shaw, would you like me to prepare a hot bath?" she asked as we ascended the stairs.

    "Yes, please. My legs are killing me." I rubbed my calves, feeling the weight of the day its meetings, obligations, and emotional strain locked tight in my muscles.

    After a long soak and a much-needed massage, I finally slipped between the cool sheets of my bed. But despite the physical exhaustion, sleep refused toe.

    My mind kept circling back to the uing weekend and the Murphy family gathering.

    It would be my first time visiting the Murphy Estate since the divorce. My first time there not as Jack¡¯s wife, but as... what, exactly? A family friend? A business associate? The ambiguity tugged at me, leaving behind a tangle of emotions I couldn¡¯t quite unravel.

    When Sunday arrived, I made my way to Murphy Estate with carefully selected gifts. For William, I¡¯d chosen a painting by a contemporary artist I knew he admired. As I stepped into the grand living room, William¡¯s face lit up with genuine pleasure.

    "Anna, my dear! Come in,e in." He embraced me warmly, examining the wrapped painting with the excitement of a child.

    I smiled, then reached into my bag for a second gift a small tin of premium tea leaves.

    "And this is for you, Uncle Marcus," I said, holding it out to him.

    Marcus raised a brow, clearly surprised. "For me?"

    "I noticed you enjoy tea," I exined, feeling oddly self-conscious beneath his gaze. "This is a special reserve blend I¡¯ve been saving. I only have two tins, and I thought you might appreciate it."

    The words came out more earnest than I intended. For some reason, sharing something I loved with him felt important.

    William immediately protested. "That¡¯s your favorite tea! Keep it for yourself, Anna. Marcus drinks coffee anyway it¡¯d be wasted on him."

    I bit back a smile at William¡¯s tant favoritism, not even pretending he wasn¡¯t firmly in my corner.

    Marcus, however, epted the tin with a subtle nod, handing it off to Peter, who seemed to materialize at his side.

    "I¡¯ll drink it," he said simply.

    The words shouldn¡¯t have affected me the way they did, but a gentle warmth bloomed in my chest nheless.

    William scoffed. "Taking things from a youngdy. Shameful behavior."

    I was about to respond when the butler appeared in the doorway. "Mr. Jack Simpson has arrived, sir."

    Before I could recover, William frowned. "Anna, that Phoenix project of yours is Jack still giving you trouble? I need to have a word with that boy. He shouldn¡¯t be making things difficult for you."

    I nced at Marcus in confusion. Hadn¡¯t he already informed William about helping mediate the Phoenix situation?

    Wasn¡¯t William the one who had asked him to step in?

    Marcus, for his part, seemedpletely unbothered, sipping his drink with characteristicposure.

    "It¡¯s been resolved, thank you for your concern," I replied quickly, trying to hide my bewilderment. Either William¡¯s memory was slipping, or something didn¡¯t quite add up.

    Jack strode into the room momentster, his face betraying no surprise at my presence. He nodded respectfully to William and Marcus before his gaze settled on me assessing, familiar, and unreadable.

    "Sit down, boy," William instructed, pointing to the chair beside mine. "What brings you here today?"

    Jack took a seat, deliberately keeping a distance between us. "Mother sent over some fresh seafood and fruit that just arrived from overseas. She asked me to deliver them personally."

    William¡¯s expression darkened slightly. I recognized that look he was still upset about how things had ended between Jack and me. The loyalty touched me, but it also made things...plicated.

    Jack¡¯s attention shifted to Marcus.

    "Uncle Marcus, I¡¯m surprised to see you here. I heard you¡¯ve found ady who¡¯s caught your interest." His smile didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes. "Will you be bringing her to meet Grandfather and the rest of the family tomorrow?"

    William immediately jumped on that, scowling. "That¡¯s right! If you don¡¯t bring her home tomorrow, you can pack your bags and head back to Europe. Stop wasting my time. It¡¯s infuriating."

    "Yes, Uncle Marcus," I added yfully, curiosity piqued. "When are you bringing your girlfriend home? William, have you prepared a wee gift yet?"

    Mentally, I calcted at thirty-two, Marcus was certainly at an age where settling down made sense, especially for someone from a family like the Murphys.

    Marcus¡¯s lips twitched in amusement. "Perhaps I should leave after dinner, then?"

    William¡¯s face flushed with irritation. "No dinner for you! You ungrateful boy. If Jack hadn¡¯t been so useless, I¡¯d be holding my great-grandchild by now. You think I need you around?"

    The casual mention of my failed marriage with Jack sent a wave of bitterness through me. I tried to keep my face neutral, but my fingers tightened around my teacup.

    Jack¡¯s eyes darted between Marcus and me before replying with a forced politeness, "Yes, it¡¯s entirely my fault."

    The tension in the room thickened. Staying for dinner suddenly felt like a punishment. If any other Murphy family members arrived and saw Jack and me together, they might assume we were reconciling.

    That was thest thing I wanted.

    "William, I¡¯m afraid I need to head home soon," I said, checking my watch. "My grandmother made soup today a rare event. If I don¡¯t go home to drink it, she¡¯ll probably track me down at the office."

    William didn¡¯t press, sensing my difort. Instead, he ordered the staff to pack up an absurd amount of food for me enough to fill my trunk.

    "If you can¡¯t make it tomorrow, at least take this home. It¡¯s no trouble."

    My throat tightened. One of the deepest regrets from my divorce was losing the ability to care for William as family.

    I reached into my handbag and pulled out a small envelope. "William, my grandmother¡¯s turning eighty next month. You muste. And you too, Uncle Marcus. It¡¯ll be just a small gathering of close friends and family."

    Marcus took the invitation with a quiet, "Thank you."

    William beamed. "Of course I¡¯ll be there for Margaret¡¯s birthday! We old friends need to treasure every chance we get to celebrate. I wouldn¡¯t miss it."

    As I said my goodbyes, I deliberately avoided Jack¡¯s gaze, heading straight for the parking area. I¡¯d nearly reached my car when I heard footsteps behind me.

    "Anna," Jack called, his voice stopping me in my tracks. "Haven¡¯t you¡ª"

 Chapter 23: Silent Pawn

    <h4>Chapter 23: Silent Pawn</h4>

    Jack¡¯s POV

    I watched Anna¡¯s dismissive expression, a nameless anger rising in my chest. How could she invite my uncle to her grandmother¡¯s birthday celebration but not me? Her former husband? The realization stung deeper than I expected.

    "What are you talking about?" she asked, feigning ignorance. That only fueled my irritation.

    "The invitation," I said tly, my gaze locked on hers. "I see the Simpson family didn¡¯t make the cut."

    She hesitated, then blinked in disbelief, as if I¡¯d asked the most absurd question imaginable.

    "Why would I invite the Simpson family?" Her voice dripped with cool mockery. "Have you ever heard of someone staying close with their ex-husband¡¯s family after a divorce?"

    Her words hit hard, leaving me momentarily speechless. This woman who now acted like I didn¡¯t exist seemed oddly close to my uncle. I couldn¡¯t hold it in anymore.

    "Then why invite him?" I demanded. "Are you two close now?"

    "Very," she said without missing a beat. "Uncle Marcus has helped me tremendously. Is there something wrong with me inviting him?"

    I froze.

    Tremendously?

    They¡¯d been spending time together privately? That hollow ache in my chest returned, mingled with jealousy and something darker. She used to be my wife. Now she was growing close to my uncle?

    Anna¡¯s tone grew colder. She looked at me with clear detachment. "Mr. Simpson, aside from necessary professional contact, we have no reason for personal interaction. I assume you¡¯d agree?"

    I clenched my fists, her words cutting deeper than I cared to admit. She wouldn¡¯t even meet my eyes drawing a clean, sharp line between us. Fine. If that was how she wanted to y it, I didn¡¯t need to stay polite.

    "Anna, don¡¯t think I¡¯m trying to cling to you," I snapped, though the bitterness in my tone betrayed me.

    She raised an eyebrow, amused in a cruel way. "Then what exactly is Mr. Simpson doing right now?"

    The ache in my chest twisted tighter. Logic left me, and anger took its ce.

    "I¡¯m here to warn you," I said coldly, "to stay away from my uncle. A man like him isn¡¯t someone you should be setting your sights on. If rumors start, it won¡¯t just embarrass the Shaws and Murphys it¡¯ll drag the Simpsons through the mud too. Besides... don¡¯t you already have Sean? Or are you that desperate for men?"

    Even as the words left my mouth, I knew I¡¯d gone too far. But the jealousy, the resentment it had taken control of me.

    Anna went pale, then flushed with rage. Her hand flew up no, her handbag did and smacked me hard across the shoulder and neck.

    "Go to hell, you bastard!" she yelled. "How dare you talk like that!"

    I staggered back, caught off guard as shended more blows. "Anna! Have you lost your mind?"

    But she wasn¡¯t thinking she was done. Her carefully pinned hair fell loose, wild around her face. Her chest heaved with fury.

    "Why was I so blind as to marry you?" she cried, ripping out the rest of her pins and jabbing her bag at me like a de. "Don¡¯t let me see you again!"

    She spun on her heel, storming to her car. The engine roared, and within seconds she was gone leaving me standing there alone, cut, literally and figuratively. I reached up and felt blood on my neck. Her bag¡¯s metal sp must¡¯ve nicked me.

    "Crazy woman," I muttered, trying to sound annoyed but all I felt was emptiness.

    Then I turned and saw Marcus standing a few feet away. My heart sank.

    He¡¯d seen everything.

    My stomach twisted as our eyes met. His presence here confirmed what I¡¯d already suspected he¡¯de to watch us. To see if Anna and I still had anything between us.

    Judging by what had just happened... apparently, we didn¡¯t.

    But what worried me more was his expression calm, unreadable. The kind of look he always had when he¡¯d already made up his mind.

    "Uncle Marcus," I greeted stiffly, forcingposure into my voice.

    He looked at me for a long moment. "You¡¯re divorced now. Keeping your distance would be better for both of you."

    His words hit like a punch to the gut.

    So... my suspicion was right. He had feelings for her.

    Panic bloomed inside me, and I scrambled to exin deflect stall.

    "Uncle Marcus, you might not understand. Anna and I are divorced, yes, but we¡¯re not like other couples. You don¡¯t know what we had. She used to love me deeply, she insisted on marrying me¡ª"

    "That was in the past," Marcus cut in, calm but firm.

    I swallowed hard, my voice faltering. "We only divorced because of a few issues. She must still care about me. If we just talked, if we worked through things¡ª"

    "It¡¯s over between you two," he said.

    I looked into his steady eyes and felt fear unlike any I¡¯d known. He wasn¡¯t just saying it. He believed it. He knew it.

    "Uncle Marcus," I whispered, almost pleading now. "What are you saying?"

    He answered without hesitation.

    "I came back for her," he said. "And this time, I won¡¯t let go."

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I couldn¡¯t forget the look on Jack¡¯s face at Murphy Estate that toxic blend of usation and jealousy when he warned me to stay away from his uncle. His words still burned in my ears: "A man like him isn¡¯t someone you should be setting your sights on." As if I was some desperate social climber.

    And hisment about Sean? That was the final straw.

    The memory made my blood simmer as I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over my tense shoulders.

    The phone rang as I was toweling off, Rachel¡¯s distinct ringtone cutting through my brooding thoughts.

    "Ms. Shaw," her voice was tight with urgency, "Sean just called. They found John Fisher."

    My heart skipped a beat. "Have them take him to Rosa Vi. I¡¯ll meet you there in thirty."

    The basement of Rosa Vi was typically used for wine storage, but today served a different purpose.

    John Fisher sat nervously on a wooden chair, his eyes darting between Sean, Rachel, and the golf club I held loosely in my right hand.

    "Ms. Shaw," Sean greeted me with a slight nod.

    I stepped closer to Fisher, letting the club¡¯s head tap gently against the floor.

    His eyes followed the movement, widening slightly.

    "I¡¯ll keep this simple," I said, my voice calm and controlled. "Answer two questions honestly, and you can walk away. All I ask is that you never show your face at Shaw Corp again. Lie to me, and you¡¯ll regret it."

    Fisher straightened in his chair, nervousness radiating from every pore.

    "I¡¯ll tell you everything I know, Ms. Shaw."

    "Who did you sell the data to?"

    He shook his head rapidly, beads of sweat already forming on his forehead.

    "I don¡¯t know. I was only given an email address, nothing more."

    I nodded to Rachel, who handed him a pen and paper. I watched as he scribbled down an address, his hand trembling slightly.

    "That person?" I repeated, catching his choice of words. "You met them?"

    "A man, but I couldn¡¯t tell you who. He always wore a mask and hat when we met. I never saw his face clearly."

    I paused, considering this information.

    "Second question: why did you steal obsolete data?"

    Fisher blinked, seeming surprised I¡¯d ask that. "That was part of his instructions. He specifically told me to take the voided test results. Said if I got caught, the consequences would be minimal since the data was worthless."

    My eyes narrowed. "And this person paid you?"

    "Yes," Fisher nodded frantically. "Cash. One hundred thousand dors to send the data to that email. I used Trevor¡¯s ount to cover my tracks." His words tumbled out in a desperate rush. "I know it was wrong, Ms. Shaw. Please, I¡¯m begging you, give me another chance."

    I stepped back, my mind racing. If the buyer knew the data was worthless, then why pay so much for it? This wasn¡¯t making sense.

    "Take him to the other room," I instructed Rachel. "Keep him there until I decide what to do with him."

    Sean prepared tea in the main living room of Rosa Vi while I paced before the firece, piecing together the puzzle.

    "What¡¯s bothering you, Ms. Shaw?" he asked carefully, setting a steaming cup on the side table.

    I tapped my fingers against my chin, my mind working through the implications. "Let¡¯s look at this logically. The stolen data was marked voidpletely useless to anypetitor. Yet Phoenix Project was the only real victim here. Shaw Corp took the me for the security breach."

    "There¡¯s something else," Sean added. "I heard Simpson Group¡¯s team was the first to discover the breach."

    "Simpson Group?" My blood chilled.

    "Trevor didn¡¯t even know hisputer had been essed. How did they know to look there?" The realization was crystallizing. "We all assumed Shaw Corp had a security issue. There was a leak, yes, but what if Fisher was just a pawn in someone else¡¯s game?"

    If this was deliberate, then who benefited most from discrediting Shaw Corp? The answer seemed painfully obvious: Jack? Lucy? Perhaps both?

    I made a quick decision. "Keep Fisher¡¯s capture under wraps. Monitor Simpson Group closely."

    Sean nodded, his expression resolute.

    "I¡¯ll speak with Fisher again, see if there are inconsistencies in his story."

    I smiled faintly, appreciating hispetence.

    Two dayster, I was finalizing a contract with a new vendor when my office door burst open. Jack stormed in, fury etched across his handsome features.

    "What the hell gives you the right to audit Simpson Group¡¯s ounts?" he demanded, not bothering with pleasantries.

    I calmly signaled for Daniel to escort our client out, waiting until the door closed before addressing my ex-husband.

    "Lucy came crying to you, I see."

    Jack¡¯s face darkened further.

    "I get that we have issues, Anna. But if you have a problem with me, deal with me directly. Lucy isn¡¯t as shrewd or capable as you are. She¡¯s not your enemy."

    A bitterugh almost escaped me. Not as capable? Was that supposed to be an excuse?

    "Yes, I authorized an audit of Simpson Group¡¯s financials," I admitted coolly.

    "If Lucy¡¯s concerned, perhaps she should ask herself why. At worst, she¡¯s guilty of negligence, not fraud." I offered him a calcted smile. "If anything, Mr. Simpson, you should thank me for the due diligence."

    "It¡¯s just money," he said dismissively, running a hand through his hair. "I don¡¯t care about a few ounting discrepancies. Call off your dogs. Simpson Group¡¯s finances aren¡¯t your concern."

    Before I could respond, my phone rang. I answered it, listening intently, then ended the call with a cryptic smile.

    "Why don¡¯t youe with me?" I suggested, my tone deceptively light.

    "That way, if Lucy ims I¡¯m bullying her again, you¡¯ll have witnessed everything firsthand."

 Chapter 24: Fractures at Phoenix

    <h4>Chapter 24: Fractures at Phoenix</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    The tension at Phoenix Project headquarters was thick enough to cut with a knife. Lucy stood near the conference table, eyes already rimmed red the perfect picture of a woman wrongfully used. Almost convincing.

    Sean wasted no time. "Ms. Shaw, Mr. Simpson, we¡¯ve uncovered significant financial irregrities in Simpson Group¡¯s ounts. More rming, during procurement reviews, we found serious quality issues with raw materials Simpson Group purchased while managing the production line."

    I caught Jack¡¯s expression shift from irritation to genuine surprise. He hadn¡¯t expected this.

    "Clear the room," I ordered Rachel and Daniel. Only the key yers could stay.

    Lucy¡¯s confident mask faltered. Jack turned sharply to her. "What¡¯s going on?"

    "I... I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about," she stammered, herposure cracking.

    I watched her unravel, cold certainty settling in my veins.

    Phoenix was my passion project Shaw Corp¡¯s future. Someone had deliberately poisoned it. That was unforgivable.

    Sean handed me a ledger. "Nn Taylor, Ms. Taylor¡¯s cousin, was the procurement officer responsible. He¡¯s no longer with us." He passed a stack of purchase orders across the table. "Both his and Ms. Taylor¡¯s signatures appear here."

    I skimmed the documents and slid them to Jack. "Your turn, Mr. Simpson."

    Jack ignored the papers, eyes locked on Lucy. "Where is Nn now?"

    Lucy scrambled. "I fired him."

    "Why?"

    Tears welled. "I¡¯m sorry, Jack. When I found out Nn ordered substandard materials, I was terrified he¡¯d ruin Phoenix. I had no choice but to let him go."

    Her voice wavered. "You know how things have been since my brother died. My parents treat Nn like family. I only brought him in as a favor. I never imagined he¡¯d betray that trust."

    "That¡¯s why I returned the production line to Shaw Corp," she added desperately. "I trusted Anna to manage it properly."

    "Jack, please believe me. I would never hurt Phoenix," she pleaded.

    Suddenly, everything clicked. Lucy abandoned control because the line was a liability. The warehouse materials werepromised. If faulty products reached the market, Shaw Corp would take the fall.

    "Mr. Simpson," I said smoothly, "shall we inspect the warehouse? And who will cover the losses?"

    Lucy¡¯s eyes darted to me, realizing I¡¯d seen through her ploy.

    I pressed on. "As a major shareholder, I formally question Ms. Taylor¡¯s managementpetence and request her removal as General Manager."

    Jack¡¯s jaw tightened. "Simpson Group will cover all losses," he said, withholding judgment on Lucy¡¯s fate.

    Lucy countered, voice defensive. "Ms. Shaw, you¡¯ve misunderstood. The material problem isn¡¯t my fault. I¡¯m a victim, too."

    "You represented Simpson Group," I shot back. "Your cousin caused this. How are you not involved?"

    She bit her lip, eyes flicking nervously. "Even if you want me gone, who would rece me? Sean?"

    Jack¡¯s eyes darkened at the mention. I feigned consideration, then nodded. "Sean? Yes, excellent choice."

    Jack jumped up, furious. "Are you mad? Lucy bears some me, but termination? A bonus cut is enough."

    I sipped my tea calmly, watching. "Interesting. So, data theft and substandard materials get treated differently."

    Setting down my cup, I added, "Sean uncovered Simpson Group¡¯s financial and material failings and found Shaw Corp¡¯s data thief. He¡¯s more than qualified to lead."

    Lucy paled, eyes flicking to her assistant, panic edging her voice. "Ms. Shaw, you... you found the leak?"

    The conference room door opened. John Fisher entered, and Lucy¡¯sposure shattered entirely, her face drained of blood.

    Sean and Rachel brought John in. Jack straightened, steeling himself.

    "Just hand him over to the police," Jack barked. "Why bring him here?"

    Lucy¡¯s nervousness was almost visible.

    "Ms. Taylor," I said softly, turning to her, "should we involve the authorities?"

    Her smile was brittle, practiced. "That might not be necessary. Publicity could harm Shaw Corp and Phoenix. Perhaps we handle this internally."

    I watched every microexpression the twitch, the averted gaze.

    Jack sighed, sharp and tired. "Anna, if you have something to say, say it. I don¡¯t have time for games."

    I turned to Lucy¡¯s assistant, impably dressed and tense. "Jared Wood, son of Ms. Taylor¡¯s family driver. You recently ordered a sports car worth two hundred thousand dors?"

    The room shifted. Jack snapped his head toward Jared, eyes dangerous. Lucy¡¯s widened in shock.

    "What are you talking about, Jared?" she whispered.

    Sean fitted Jared with a hardshell suit and pushed a hat low over his face. "Mr. Fisher, do you know this man?"

    John approached, studying Jared. "Yes. He paid me to steal data. Told me never to return to Skyview City for three years." His voice cracked. "The money wasn¡¯t enough to restart. I thought I¡¯d visit my parents before moving on. Never expected to get caught."

    He looked at me, pleading. "Ms. Shaw, please don¡¯t press charges. I made a mistake, but I¡ª"

    "YOU¡¯RE LYING!" Lucy screamed, leaping up, shattered. "This is a setup! You¡¯re trying to frame Simpson Group! Anna, this is outrageous even for you!"

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "Do you know why the money wasn¡¯t enough to start over, Mr. Fisher?" I asked softly, my voice slicing through the tension like a de. I didn¡¯t even nce at Lucy I didn¡¯t need to. I could feel the panic radiating off her in waves.

    Jack and Lucy were both staring at me now, their expressions tight with suspicion.

    "Because you were supposed to receive three hundred thousand dors," I continued, eyes locked on John Fisher. "But it seems two hundred thousand of that went toward someone¡¯s shiny new car."

    Jack¡¯s chair scraped sharply against the floor as he shot to his feet. "Jared, is this true?" His voice was low too low the kind of quiet thates before a storm.

    Jared¡¯s face drained of color. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Then, like a coward, he turned to Lucy for help.

    That single look was all Jack needed.

    His gaze snapped back to Lucy. "Lucy," he said, his tone like a warning shot.

    "Jack, you can¡¯t honestly believe this," she whispered, reaching toward him. "Anna¡¯s trying to tear us apart. She¡¯s always hated me."

    Sean stepped in smoothly, his voice measured but firm. "Shall Iy it out, Mr. Simpson? Ms. Taylor orchestrated the entire scheme. After her cousin Nn caused chaos on the production line financial loss, procurement scandals she realized she couldn¡¯t fix the mess. Nn gambled away the funds and disappeared."

    Lucy¡¯s breathing turned shallow, her lips pressed tight. But Sean wasn¡¯t finished.

    "She panicked. Rather than taking responsibility, she used John here a desperate man from a struggling family. She fed him a lie: that the stolen data was discarded, that it wouldn¡¯t matter. She let him believe Shaw Corp was alreadypromised, so if a scapegoat emerged, the project would shift back to Shaw, and she¡¯d be off the hook."

    Sean turned to Jared. "And the data it¡¯s still in your email, isn¡¯t it?"

    I took another sip of tea, savoring the unraveling performance. Lucy¡¯s skin had gone almost translucent. She clutched the arms of her chair like they were the only thing holding her together.

    "This isn¡¯t true," she said hoarsely. "I wasn¡¯t involved."

    But then Jared stood up abruptly, his expensive suit crumpling with the motion. "It was me," he said, voice cracking. "I orchestrated everything."

    Silence mmed into the room.

    For a moment, even I blinked. A full confession? I hadn¡¯t expected that.

    Inside, I was already smiling. Lucy must be cursing Jared¡¯s stupidity if he hadn¡¯t gotten greedy, if he hadn¡¯t used the stolen money for that car, I might never have found John. She would¡¯ve gotten away clean.

    I looked at Jack. His face was now deep crimson, jaw clenched tight.

    He was connecting the dots, slowly but surely.

    "What are your terms?" he asked finally.

    I almostughed at how transparent he was still trying to protect her, even now.

    But if Jack wanted to y defense, I would make sure I took back everything that was mine.

    "Two conditions," I said coolly, cing my teacup down with precision. "First, the previous agreement is void. Simpson Group will reverse the profit distribution Shaw Corp gets an additional two percent."

    I paused, letting the weight of it sink in.

    "Second, Lucy steps down. Effective immediately. Sean takes over as General Manager."

    Lucy¡¯s breath hitched. "That¡¯s impossible..." she whispered. I could practically see her world unraveling without Phoenix, what did she have left? No leverage, no seat at the table, no protection from Mary Simpson.

    "It wasn¡¯t me," she said again, barely audible.

    Jack¡¯s expression darkened. "And if I refuse?"

    I didn¡¯t blink. "Then I forward all evidence to the FBI."

    Jack¡¯s voice rose, his frustration spilling over. "Do you have to destroy her, Anna? This is personal. You¡¯re not trying to protect the project you¡¯re just angry I gave it to her. You¡¯re being petty."

    A cold, bitterugh escaped my lips.

    "I¡¯m petty?" I snapped. "You took my vision my creation and handed it to your mistress like it meant nothing. Phoenix was never yours to give. If Simpson Group won¡¯t meet my terms, then get out."

    Jack stared at me, a war raging behind his eyes.

    "I¡¯m done with the games," I finished. "You have three minutes. Otherwise, the FBI gets the file."

    "You¡¯re ruthless," Jack muttered as Sean handed him the already-prepared agreement.

    "You even had the paperwork ready," he added bitterly. "You¡¯ve been waiting for this day, haven¡¯t you?"

    I met his re with a serene smile. "No, Jack. I¡¯ve been working for this day. I¡¯m not ruthless I¡¯m just reiming what¡¯s mine. You took it by force. I¡¯m taking it back with facts."

    And this time, no one was going to steal it again.

 Chapter 25: Fractured Loyalties

    <h4>Chapter 25: Fractured Loyalties</h4>

    Jack¡¯s POV

    I drove away from Phoenix Project headquarters, my knuckles white against the steering wheel. The decision to drop Lucy off at her ce before heading back to the Simpson mansion was automatic.

    The atmosphere inside the car was suffocating. Even the air conditioning seemed to struggle against the weight of tension filling the space between us.

    I stared straight ahead at the road, refusing to nce at the woman beside me.

    "Jack, I¡¯m so sorry, I¡¯m so sorry."

    Lucy¡¯s voice cracked as she continued crying. The sound grated against my already frayed nerves. "This is all my fault. I embarrassed you. It¡¯s all because of me. Please don¡¯t be angry, don¡¯t be mad at me, okay?"

    My temples throbbed with each word she spoke. A headache built behind my eyes as I gripped the steering wheel tighter, the veins in my forearms standing out prominently. I remained silent, my jaw clenched so tight I could feel the pressure in my teeth.

    Once, I had found her emotional vulnerability charming. There was something about Lucy¡¯s delicate nature that had appealed to me so different from Anna¡¯s unyielding strength and independence. I¡¯d believed a woman like Lucy soft, sweet, and in need of protection made the perfect partner.

    Anna¡¯s refusal to show weakness had always made me ufortable, her fierce self-reliance leaving me feeling unnecessary.

    But now, Lucy¡¯s tears just irritated me further.

    "Has crying ever solved anything?" I finally snapped, my voice cold and t as I navigated through a yellow light. I kept my eyes fixed on the road ahead, my brow furrowed deeply. "Lucy, you¡¯ve really disappointed me."

    The wordsnded like a physical blow.

    Lucy¡¯s sobbing halted for a brief moment, the sudden silence almost jarring, before her tears returned with renewed intensity. She grabbed my arm with desperate fingers.

    "Jack, please don¡¯t be angry. I was so stupid. I shouldn¡¯t have let Nn get involved with Phoenix. I shouldn¡¯t have listened to him."

    I didn¡¯t respond to her touch, my arm stiff under her grip. The anger building inside me threatened to boil over. My silence seemed to push her toward even more frantic apologies.

    "It¡¯s all my fault. If I hadn¡¯t been so soft-hearted, things wouldn¡¯t have turned out this way," she continued,

    her voice breaking with each hitched breath. The tears fell freely down her face, dripping onto her designer blouse. "I had no idea he would be so bold. Jack, do you hate me now?"

    Lucy¡¯s POV

    My tears streamed down my face. The remnants of my carefully applied mascara were surely painting dark rivulets down my cheeks, but I didn¡¯t care. The humiliation was still fresh standing there in the Phoenix Project conference room as Anna Shaw systematically dismantled everything I¡¯d worked for.

    "Jack, I really tried my best..." I sobbed into my hands, my shoulders shaking with what appeared to be uncontroble grief. Through the gaps between my fingers, I studied his reaction, calcting my next move.

    Jack gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. We hadn¡¯t even started driving yet he¡¯d simply guided me to the car after the disastrous meeting, his face a mask of barely controlled anger. His tie hung loose around his neck, and the top button of his shirt was undone signs of his agitation.

    "Stop crying," he said, his voice t and distant as he stared straight ahead through the windshield. "Go home and get some rest. We don¡¯t need to discuss this anymore."

    We don¡¯t need to discuss this anymore? My stomach plummeted. I had spent months cultivating Mary Simpson¡¯s favor, positioning myself as the perfect daughter-inw recement. The Phoenix Project was supposed to be my crowning achievement concrete proof that I belonged in the Simpson family.

    And now Jack wanted to just... drop it?

    My hands and feet turned ice-cold as a new fear gripped me. If Mary found out I¡¯d lost to Anna Shaw, would she withdraw her support? My tears, which had started as a calcted performance, now flowed with genuine panic.

    "It¡¯s all my fault..." I whispered, my voice trembling. Inside, a darker emotion was brewing. I silently cursed Nn and Jared.

    My useless cousin who had bought substandard materials and then disappeared with the money.

    My ipetent assistant who had bungled the cover-up so badly that Anna¡¯s people had uncovered everything. I should never have trusted either of them.

    What made it worse was seeing how Anna Shaw¡¯s team functioned that quiet,petent Rachel who anticipated her every need; Daniel Davis who managed her office with military precision; and now that neer Sean, who had dismantled my scheme piece by piece. Even Trevor Torres, despite being framed, had remained loyal to her. Meanwhile, I was surrounded by selfish idiots who couldn¡¯t follow simple instructions without jeopardizing everything.

    "Jack," I said softly, making my voice small and vulnerable, "it¡¯s just that I¡¯m not good enough. If my brother were still alive, things would be different." I watched carefully as his eyebrows twitched. "He was so much smarter than me, so much more capable. He would have helped you. He would never have let Anna get the upper hand like this. It¡¯s all my fault."

    The change was subtle but immediate.

    Jack¡¯s shoulders rxed slightly, his expression softening from irritation to something closer to sympathy. The mention of my deceased brother never failed to touch something in him.

    Jack sighed heavily, his anger deting.

    He turned in his seat and pulled me into his arms, his voice gentler now.

    "Don¡¯t cry anymore. It¡¯s not that big a deal. Just spend more time with my mother shopping, having tea, you know what she likes."

    I nestled against him, making myself small and fragile in his embrace despite the awkward positioning across the center console, but continued to sniffle loudly.

    "Your mother will be so angry with me. I¡¯ve disappointed her terribly."

    "This isn¡¯t entirely your fault," he reassured me, patting my shoulder awkwardly. "Just exin everything to her clearly. You know how to make her happy."

    "Really?" I asked, injecting hopeful uncertainty into my voice while my mind was already racing ahead, mapping out strategies to regain Mary¡¯s favor.

    "Really," he confirmed, his tone decisive.

    I pressed my face against his chest, pretending to still be ovee with emotion, but I couldn¡¯t quite suppress the slight upward curve of my lips.

    This setback was painful, yes, but not fatal. I hadn¡¯t lost everything. The Simpson family particrly Jack and Mary were still within my grasp. I just needed to regroup, recalibrate, and n my next move carefully.

    More importantly, I could see how this situation had deepened the rift between Jack and Anna. The cold fury in his eyes when she had systematically exposed my scheme, the way his hands had clenched into fists as she dictated her terms...

    Their rtionship had deteriorated beyond repair.

    In a way, that was my victory smaller than what I¡¯d hoped for, but significant nheless.

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Lucy¡¯s downfall had been swift exactly as she deserved. I hadn¡¯t just reimed my project; I¡¯d secured better terms than ever before.

    "Everything¡¯s in order, Ms. Shaw," Rachel confirmed, handing over the finalized paperwork.

    "Excellent. Cancel my afternoon meetings. I¡¯m taking the rest of the day off."

    Rachel blinked, surprised. Time off wasn¡¯t my usual style. But today was different. Today, I wanted to indulge.

    "Call Catherine Murphy. Tell her to clear her schedule. We¡¯re going shopping."

    The private shopping suite was exquisite, decorated in soft creams and golds, with chilled champagne already waiting.

    Catherine burst through the doors, her designer sunsses pushed up into her honey blonde waves.

    "Well, well," she drawled. "If it isn¡¯t Anna Shaw, Conqueror of the Phoenix Project."

    Iughed, epting a crystal flute of champagne. "You heard already?"

    "Darling, the family party was a bore without you. Mary brought Lucy. You should¡¯ve seen Grandfather¡¯s face positively murderous. My aunt kept pestering Jack and Lucy about wedding bells, and Mary jumped in saying ¡¯soon, soon.¡¯ Jack just sat there, stiff as a statue."

    At the mention of Jack, that familiar knot twisted in my chest. The divorce had been finalized for months, yet something still felt raw, unfinished.

    "Let¡¯s not talk about them," I said, turning toward a row of stilettos in pale suede and gold ents. "It ruins the mood."

    I pointedzily to several pairs. "Don¡¯t pack these three. Send the rest to my house."

    I turned back to Catherine with a rare smile. "I¡¯m in a good mood today. Whatever you want, it¡¯s on me. Just don¡¯t dawdle."

    We drank. We spent. Weughed. But by nightfall, the emptiness returned.

    Alone in my penthouse, I stared at my phone, the city glittering beneath me. The high from earlier had faded into a restlessness I¡¯de to know too well.

    Before I could second guess myself, I typed out a message to the number saved only as 3303:

    Avable tonight?

    The Sapphire Sky Hotel rendezvous had begun as a reckless whim. Now it was something else something I needed.

    His reply came instantly:

    Always for you.

    I sent one final message:

    See you then.

    I arrived first. After closing the door behind me, I wondered, Maybe tonight, I¡¯ll finally see his face.

    I ordered a red wine and slipped into the marble bathroom. The suite¡¯s floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city. The Jacuzzi steamed invitingly.

    I sank into the hot bath, letting the water ease the tension from my body. Outside, the city glowed. The lights in the room were off I hadn¡¯t touched them. Still, it felt too dark.

    I frowned. This is my room. I booked it. The key card¡¯s in my purse. So how...

    Before the thought could fully form, arms wrapped around my waist from behind. A warm, familiar body pressed against mine.

    He picked me up, pinning me gently but firmly against the cool wall. His mouth found mine, then my neck, then lower. Kisses rained down in a frenzy.

    "Slow down," I gasped between moans, clinging to his shoulders.

    "I ordered some food," I managed.

    "Don¡¯t need it," he murmured against my skin, voice rough with hunger. "I only need you."

    And that was it. My resistance melted. His words undid me.

    I lost myself in his touch.

    The sex was consuming tender and fierce all at once. I surrendered until I had nothing left, until I passed out from sheer exhaustion.

    By morning, he was gone. The room was spotless, the sheets changed. My body had been gently wiped clean. I barely ached he¡¯d been thorough, even considerate.

    Room service arrived. Lunch, ordered by him, wasvish and oddly personal every dish a favorite of mine.

    I should¡¯ve been rmed. Instead, I was intrigued.

    Before leaving, I stood by the window, staring out at the skyline.

    Maybe I¡¯ll just keep renting 3303, I mused. No strings. A regr arrangement. A partner with skill and discipline. Nothing emotional. Just for health.

    Of course, eventually, I¡¯d want to know who he really was.

    When I returned to the Shaw Estate, the yard was bustling. Mother was in the garden, directing the servants.

    She nced up and called out, "Hurry inside. Marcus is here!"

    My pulse fluttered. "Marcus?"

    "He brought a whole truckload of things food, drinks, decorations. Too much. I¡¯ll probably have to cancel some of our own orders."

    A truckload? That must¡¯ve been the pickup I saw on the way in. I¡¯d assumed it was a caterer.

    As I neared the entrance, I heardughter deep, warm. Grandmother¡¯sughter.

    It stopped me in my tracks. I hadn¡¯t heard herugh like that since my father died.

    I stepped inside just as Marcus stood, readying to leave.

    "Uncle Marcus," I said. "Leaving already? Stay for dinner, at least."

    He turned, giving me that familiar soft smile. "Annie. I¡¯ve already eaten, and it¡¯s still early for dinner."

    "Then stay for tea," I said quickly. "I¡¯ll brew it myself. And thank you for everything."

    "My father told me this was your first time organizing a birthday celebration for Margaret," he said. "He asked me to check in, offer support."

    William again. Always pulling strings behind the scenes.

    "Well," I said, smoothing my dress, "I¡¯d hate to disappoint him. Grandmother deserves something unforgettable."

    And for once, I wanted to be the one to deliver it.

 Chapter 26: The Ghost at the Garden Gate

    <h4>Chapter 26: The Ghost at the Garden Gate</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I watched Marcus¡¯s car disappear down the driveway, a curious warmth blooming in my chest. The truckload of supplies he¡¯d delivered for my grandmother¡¯s birthday was more than generous it was overwhelming. I stood there for a moment, letting the quiet hum of gratitude settle over me before turning back toward the house, questions swirling in my mind.

    Inside, Grandmother was still smiling, her eyes gleaming with a light I hadn¡¯t seen since before my father passed. The sight made my heart ache with bittersweet joy.

    "Grandmother," I said, easing down beside her on the sofa, "all these gifts... are they really from William? Did he ask Marcus to deliver them?"

    She patted my hand gently, her voice soft but certain. "Of course, they¡¯re from William. He called me just this morning." Her expression grew thoughtful. "He said you¡¯re recently divorced and that your grandmother¡¯s birthday party must be nothing short of perfect. He doesn¡¯t want anyone whispering behind your back or looking down on us."

    A wave of emotion rushed through me. William had always been considerate, treating us like family when even my own rtives kept their distance. I leaned in and hugged my grandmother, breathing in the familiar scent of hervender perfume.

    "You don¡¯t need to worry about me," I said with quiet confidence. "Everything¡¯s under control. I¡¯vepletely resolved the Phoenix Project issues Lucy¡¯s been removed, and control is back with Shaw Corp. We even gained an extra two percent in profit."

    I pulled back and met her eyes. "Like you always say, Grandmother, divorce isn¡¯t the end of the world."

    Her face lit up. "That¡¯s wonderful! I knew my Annie would take care of things." She chuckled and gave my hand a squeeze. "Very well, we¡¯ll stick to ten tables for the celebration. As for those fair-weather friends just waiting for us to stumble we won¡¯t invite them."

    "Exactly," I said, a smile tugging at my lips as the pressure in my chest eased.

    The morning of the celebration, I was reviewing the final logistics when my mother¡¯s voice pierced the calm.

    "Annie! What are we going to do?" she cried, hurrying into the study with her heels clicking against the floor, her perfectly styled hair slightly askew. "The Turner and Hill families just confirmed they¡¯reing! And the Reeds and Walkers too. We haven¡¯t socialized with them in years! That¡¯s already several extra tables!"

    I set down my tablet, absorbing the shift in ns without panic.

    "I¡¯ve already called Marcus," I replied, calm and collected. "Reinforcements are on the way."

    "But the seating arrangements! The ce settings¡ª" My mother¡¯s voice was nearing a full spiral.

    I gently steered her toward the stairs. "Go upstairs, touch up your makeup, change into something you love, and thene down and greet our guests. I¡¯ll take care of the rest."

    She hesitated, then gave a small nod, her shoulders rxing just slightly. "Are you sure?"

    "Absolutely."

    Rachel appeared at my side, tablet in hand. "Peter Reed just called. Mr. Murphy is sending additional staff and supplies. They¡¯ll be here within the hour."

    By mid-afternoon, the garden at Shaw Estate had been transformed into an elegant, sun-drenched reception. I stood near the entrance in a tailored cream suit and pale blue silk blouse. A single strand of pearls adorned my neck, the earrings catching the sunlight each time I moved. Every detail had been chosen with care professional, feminine, and gracefully authoritative.

    "Anna!" Catherine called out as she approached, kissing both my cheeks. Her eyes immediatelynded on one of the fruit bowls. "This is exquisite! Gold-ted, isn¡¯t it? Not tacky at all."

    I smiled and brushed my fingers along the ornate rim. "They were part of my mother¡¯s dowry. My grandfather only had one daughter, so when she married, he sent severalplete dinnerware sets along with her."

    Catherine¡¯s expression turned wistful. "If your grandfather¡¯s business hadn¡¯t declined, the Shaws would easily rival the Simpsons today." She leaned in, her voice dropping. "Tell me you didn¡¯t invite Jack."

    "Of course not," I said firmly, my expression hardening. "Why would I let him ruin a perfectly good day?"

    Before she could respond, a familiar, booming voice rolled across the garden.

    "Annie!" William Murphy¡¯s voice rang out as he approached, walking stick tapping steadily, Marcus following just behind. "What a splendid affair! Margaret must be thrilled."

    I smiled as I embraced him. "William, thank you foring. And for everything you¡¯ve done to help."

    He waved off the gratitude with a warm smile. "Elizabeth, Margaret you both look radiant," he said as my mother and grandmother joined us. Then his gaze returned to me. "Annie is truly remarkable. A fine woman in business and in family. You¡¯ve raised her exceptionally well."

    The praise settled deep in my heart. The Murphys¡¯ loyalty had always been real rare in a city where alliances shifted with the wind.

    My eyes drifted to Marcus, who stood nearby, observing quietly, as always. I walked over, hands sped, a yful smile on my lips.

    "Thank you, Uncle Marcus. You really saved the day."

    Without warning, he reached out and ruffled the top of my head. I froze for a beat, startled.

    Then Marcus smiled slightly, his tone gentle. "You¡¯ve grown up, Anne. Hosting such an important event... I¡¯m proud."

    Hearing him use my childhood nickname stirred something inside me. I smiled warmly. "Thanks to your help. I owe you dinner."

    Before he could answer, Rachel reappeared, leaning in to whisper, "Ms. Shaw, Mr. Simpson is here."

    My smile faded.

    The real test had just walked in.

    Jack¡¯s POV

    Music andughter spilled from the magnificent garden behind the mansion. I followed the stone path around the side of the house, my footsteps measured and deliberate. Each step stirred memories of when I¡¯d walked these grounds as family not as an uninvited ghost haunting the periphery.

    The garden had been transformed into an enchanted paradise. Round tables draped in cream silk dotted the manicuredwn, each adorned with borate floral arrangements. Waiters in crisp white jackets wove through the crowd with practiced grace, bncing silver trays of champagne and hors d¡¯oeuvres.

    I recognized most of the guests immediately Sky-view City¡¯s elite mingling in their finest attire, air kissing and trading gossip beneath the twinkling lights. My gaze swept across the garden, searching for one face in particr.

    I found her near the center of the gathering. Anna Shaw my ex-wife, the woman I¡¯d once believed would be mine forever. The sight of her still had the power to make my chest tighten, though these days it was hard to separate longing from resentment.

    But she wasn¡¯t alone.

    Standing beside her, his tall framemanding attention even in stillness, was my uncle. Marcus Murphy. His head bent slightly toward hers as sheughed at something he¡¯d said. The intimacy of the gesture made my blood simmer.

    "Mr. Simpson," she greeted, her lips curved into a smile that didn¡¯t reach her eyes. "What a surprise to see you here. Wee."

    Her tone made it perfectly clear that I wasn¡¯t wee at all that she was merely observing social niceties. My jaw clenched involuntarily.

    "Anna," I nodded, my gaze sliding between her and Marcus. They stood too close. Toofortable. The sight burned like acid in my stomach. How transparent they are. Is he openly pursuing her now?

    "I wouldn¡¯t miss Margaret¡¯s birthday," I replied coolly. "I was her grandson-inw, after all. Invited or not, I had toe."

    Before dinner, Daniel Davis, Anna¡¯s assistant, tapped a microphone, drawing everyone¡¯s attention to the small stage set up near the house.

    Anna stood beside him, her smile genuine as she addressed the gathered guests.

    "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all foring to celebrate my grandmother¡¯s eightieth birthday," she began, her voice clear and confident.

    "As you know, Margaret Shaw has never been one for extravagant disys, but she¡¯s made an exception today because she wanted to share this milestone with all of you the people who¡¯ve made her life so rich and full."

    I watched her from the shadows, nursing my scotch. She¡¯d always been captivating when she spoke,manding attention without seeming to try. It was one of the first things that had drawn me to her.

    "And now," she continued, "I¡¯d like to begin the presentation of gifts. While Grandmother insisted on ¡¯no presents, please¡¯ on the invitations¡ª" this drew knowingughter from the crowd "¡ªsome of us simply couldn¡¯t resist."

    Daniel stepped forward, a list in hand, and began announcing the gifts one by one. Most were predictablyvish jewelry, rare books, sculptures from renowned artists. Elizabeth Shaw presented a stunning original painting for her mother, drawing appreciative murmurs from the crowd.

    When it was Anna¡¯s turn, Daniel¡¯s voice took on an extra note of pride.

    "From Ms. Anna Shaw to her beloved grandmother, Margaret: a sapphire bracelet."

    My grip tightened around my ss as Anna unveiled the familiar blue velvet box. Insidey the exact sapphire bracelet we¡¯d fought over at the auction the one she¡¯d ultimately won for twenty million dors while I¡¯d tried to drive up the price out of spite.

    Anna fastened it around Margaret¡¯s wrist with tender care, the brilliant blue stones catching the light as the elderly woman admired her granddaughter¡¯s gift.

    Daniel continued reading from his list, but I barely registered the names and gifts. My thoughts had turned inward, memories of that day at the auction house ying through my mind like a movie I couldn¡¯t switch off. Anna¡¯s cold fury when she¡¯d realized I was deliberately bidding against her. The disappointment in her eyes that had cut deeper than any words could have.

    I was so lost in my thoughts that I almost missed the announcement that made the entire garden fall silent.

    "From Mr. Marcus Murphy," Daniel¡¯s voice rang out, "a historic mansion in the Skke District."

    My head snapped up, eyes widening in disbelief. I scanned the crowd until I found Marcus, standing tall and impassive near the front. Anna was beside him, her expression a mask of perfectly controlled surprise.

    "The property," Daniel continued, "was the childhood home of Elizabeth Shaw, returned now to the Shaw family after three generations."

    A collective gasp rippled through the audience, followed immediately by excited murmurs.

    Two hundred million dors. Marcus Murphy had just casually gifted a two-hundred-million-dor mansion to his... what?

    Friend¡¯s mother?

    My mind refused to ept the obvious implication.

    I nearly jumped out of my skin when I recognized the mansion. It was the mansion the one I¡¯d bid on at the auction, the one that had gone to a mysterious buyer for two hundred million dors. The same mansion that was central to Simpson Group¡¯s ns for the Skke District redevelopment project.

    My uncle was the mystery buyer. All this time, it was Marcus.

    The realization hit me like a physical blow. I¡¯d spent weeks trying to track down the buyer, desperate to negotiate a sale or partnership for the Skke project. And all along, it had been my uncle the same uncle who now stood sofortably close to my ex-wife.

    "That mansion..." Calvin¡¯s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. "Isn¡¯t that the one your uncle outbid you for at the auction?"

    I couldn¡¯t answer, my throat suddenly dry as sand.

    "Why would he give such an expensive property to the Shaws?" Luke wondered aloud, his eyes narrowed in spection.

    I watched as Margaret embraced Marcus, tears in her eyes as she thanked him for returning a piece of her family¡¯s history. Elizabeth was openly weeping, clutching the deed papers to her chest as if they might disappear if she loosened her grip.

    And Anna... Anna¡¯s expression as she looked at my uncle made my chest constrict painfully. It wasn¡¯t love, not yet, but there was something there respect, gratitude, admiration the building blocks of deeper feeling.

    My grip on my ss tightened to the point where I feared it might shatter in my hand. The mansion had been my key to the Skke District development a project that could have restored Simpson Group¡¯s prestige and secured our financial future for generations. Now it was gone, handed over to the Shaw family with a smile and a bow.

    "Jack," Calvin¡¯s voice cut through my thoughts again, "does your uncle know about Simpson Group¡¯s interest in the Skke District? That he¡¯s just torpedoed your entire development n?"

    I didn¡¯t respond.

    Because I wasn¡¯t sure what was worse the fact that Marcus didn¡¯t know...or that he did.

 Chapter 27: A Gift Too Heavy

    <h4>Chapter 27: A Gift Too Heavy</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    The presentation of gifts continued as I stood beside my grandmother, maintaining theposed smile. But when Daniel announced Marcus Murphy¡¯s gift, the practiced curve of my lips nearly faltered.

    "From Mr. Marcus Murphy," Daniel¡¯s voice rang clear across the garden, "a historic mansion in the Skke District."

    A collective gasp rippled through the assembled guests. The significance wasn¡¯t lost on anyone Skke District properties were rare treasures.

    My mother¡¯s face went ck with shock. This was her childhood home the mansion she¡¯d spent years telling me stories about, where three generations of my maternal ancestors had lived before financial hardship forced my grandfather to sell it.

    I watched as Daniel handed my grandmother the elegant folder containing the deed and ownership papers. This wasn¡¯t just any gift it was a piece of my family¡¯s legacy, returned to us after decades. The sheer magnitude of the gesture left me breathless.

    "Uncle Marcus, this gift is far too generous," I finally managed, forcing my lips into a polite smile while my mind raced. I signaled the server to take the portfolio and property documents to a secure ce, already nning how I would gracefully return this impossiblyvish gift after the celebration ended.

    My heart pounded erratically, and I found myself unable to meet Marcus¡¯s eyes directly. Those prating eyes seemed capable of reading every thought crossing my mind, creating an invisible pressure I couldn¡¯t escape.

    The historic Skke mansion was too significant, too valuable I simply couldn¡¯t ept it. He must have sensed my hesitation, but with all these witnesses present, I could only maintain appearances.

    The guests buzzed with excitement, discussing the mansion¡¯s historical significance and current market value.

    I heard whispered estimates ranging from 150 to 250 million numbers that made my stomach clench despite my own considerable wealth. I caught Catherine Murphy¡¯s eye across the garden, and her expression of genuine surprise told me that even she hadn¡¯t been privy to her uncle¡¯s ns.

    Desperate to shift attention elsewhere, I gave Daniel a subtle look, silently urging him to continue with the gift announcements. He cleared his throat promptly.

    "From Mr. Jack Simpson, President of Simpson Group," Daniel announced,

    "an eighteenth-century oil painting from the French royal collection."

    My eyebrows involuntarily furrowed as I watched servers carefully carry in the massive gilt-framed painting. The piece was unmistakably authentic a masterpiece that belonged in a museum, not a private collection. My confusion deepened. Why would Jack present such an extraordinarily valuable gift? We were divorced, our business dealings now strictly professional and frequently antagonistic. This made no sense.

    The air thickened with spection as guests exchanged meaningful nces. I felt their gazes bouncing between Jack and me, searching for clues, hungry for gossip.

    I deliberately avoided looking in Jack¡¯s direction, though I could feel the weight of his stare. The sensation of being watched simultaneously by my ex-husband and Marcus Murphy made my chest tighten ufortably. My mind was chaos, uncertain how to navigate thisplex situation.

    My grandmother, always perceptive, clearly sensed the tension. She stepped forward slightly, her voice warm but firm as she addressed Jack.

    "Jack, how thoughtful of you. This painting is truly magnificent, but it¡¯s far too valuable. Your presence at my birthday celebration is gift enough."

    I recognized the gentle refusal in her tone and felt a wave of relief wash over me. Immediately, I motioned to Daniel and the servers to take the painting away, eager to end this ufortable disy. Throughout the entire exchange, I kept my gaze firmly away from Jack, afraid that any eye contact might fuel further spection about our rtionship.

    I watched as thest limousine pulled away from the property. The garden that had just hours ago been filled withughter, music, and the clink of champagne sses now stood deserted, illuminated only by the soft glow of string lights.

    Yet as soon as I stepped back inside Shaw Estate, the atmosphere shifted palpably. My mother¡¯s practiced smile the one she¡¯d maintained wlessly throughout the entire celebration melted away, reced by an expression of unmistakable concern. Beside her, my grandmother sat in her favorite armchair, absently turning the teacup in her hands, her eyes fixed on the sapphire bracelet adorning her wrist.

    Grandmother finally looked up, her eyes finding mine. There was a weight to her gaze that made my chest tighten.

    "Annie, what are you nning to do?"

    I took a slow breath, trying to organize my thoughts. The staff moved quietly around us, collecting abandoned sses and removing wilted flowers.

    This wasn¡¯t the ce for the conversation we needed to have.

    "I¡¯ll return the oil painting tomorrow," I said, keeping my voice steady and calm. "This isn¡¯t the right time to discuss it."

    My mother and grandmother exchanged a nce the kind of wordlessmunication that onlyes from decades of shared understanding. They were worried about more than just the gifts.

    "You should both get some rest," I added, forcing a smile. "It¡¯s been a long day."

    My mother wasn¡¯t ready to drop the subject.

    "Annie, the Murphy family¡ª"

    "I understand," I cut her off, not unkindly but firmly.

    My tone left no room for argument, though I could see the questions lingering in their eyes. Questions I wasn¡¯t entirely sure I could answer.

    After seeing them upstairs, I retreated to my study, closing the door behind me with a soft click. I poured myself a ss of whiskey, neat, and moved to stand by the window overlooking the garden. The ice in my ss clinked softly as I swirled the amber liquid, trying to make sense of the day¡¯s events.

    For weeks, I¡¯d attributed Marcus Murphy¡¯s attentiveness to William¡¯s paternal concern for our family. It had seemed the most logical exnation.

    William had always treated us with extraordinary kindness, especially after my father¡¯s death. It made perfect sense that he would ask his son to look after us in his stead.

    But today¡¯s gift that mansion in Skke District forced me to reconsider everything.

    Two hundred million dors. Not even William Murphy would casually ask his son to part with that kind of money as a simple favor.

    My reflection stared back at me from the darkened window, eyes troubled and questioning. Was it possible that Marcus Murphy the enigmatic, powerful, intensely private Marcus Murphy had developed actual feelings for me? The thought seemed almost absurd. He was Jack¡¯s uncle, for god¡¯s sake. Theplexity and potential awkwardness of such a situation would deter most rational people.

    And yet, I couldn¡¯t dismiss the possibility entirely.

    It¡¯s probably nothing, I told myself, taking a slow sip of whiskey. Maybe there¡¯s another exnation entirely.

    But if not, what then?

    How did I feel about him?

    I wasn¡¯t entirely sure.

    There was respect, certainly. Gratitude for his support. A strangefort in his steady presence.

    But was there...

    Anna¡¯s POV

    The presentation of gifts continued as I stood beside my grandmother, maintaining theposed smile that had be second nature over the years. But when Daniel announced Marcus Murphy¡¯s gift, the practiced curve of my lips nearly faltered.

    "From Mr. Marcus Murphy," Daniel¡¯s voice rang clear across the garden, "a historic mansion in the Skke District."

    A collective gasp rippled through the gathered guests. The significance wasn¡¯t lost on anyone Skke District properties were rare treasures, practically untouchable.

    My mother¡¯s expression went ck with shock. This wasn¡¯t just a luxurious estate it was her childhood home. The same mansion she¡¯d spent years telling me stories about. The same house where three generations of my maternal ancestors had lived before financial hardship had forced my grandfather to sell it.

    I watched Daniel hand my grandmother a sleek, leather-bound folder containing the deed and ownership papers. This wasn¡¯t just any gift it was a piece of our legacy, returned to us after decades. The sheer magnitude of it stole the breath from my lungs.

    "Uncle Marcus," I managed finally, my voice polite but tight, "this gift is far too generous."

    I forced my lips into a diplomatic smile, signaling a nearby server to secure the documents. My mind was already racing, plotting how I would return the impossiblyvish gesture once the celebration ended. My heart pounded erratically, and I found myself avoiding Marcus¡¯s gaze. His eyes dark, steady, unnervingly perceptive felt like they could strip every secret from me if I so much as looked too long.

    The historic Skke mansion was too significant, too valuable. I couldn¡¯t ept it.

    Yet with so many witnesses watching, my refusal would¡¯ve created a scene.

    Guests around us buzzed with curiosity, whispering about the mansion¡¯s historical value and current market worth. I caught phrases like "two hundred million" and "irreceablendmark." Even I, with all my resources, felt the weight of those numbers.

    Across the garden, I met Catherine Murphy¡¯s wide eyed stare. Her surprise was unmistakable clearly, even she hadn¡¯t known about her uncle¡¯s grand gesture.

    Desperate to shift attention, I gave Daniel a subtle nod. He cleared his throat on cue.

    "From Mr. Jack Simpson, President of Simpson Group," he announced next, "an eighteenth-century oil painting from the French royal collection."

    My eyebrows lifted in disbelief as servers carefully carried in the enormous gilt framed painting. There was no doubt in my mind it was authentic. A genuine masterpiece. One that belonged in a museum, not hanging in anyone¡¯s drawing room.

    Why would Jack gift me something so extravagant? We were divorced. Our business dealings now were cold, transactional... often tense.

    Spection thickened in the air like fog as eyes shifted from Jack to me, hungry for gossip. I kept my gaze firmly away from him, but I felt the heat of his stare like sunlight on bare skin. Between him and Marcus, I felt exposed cornered by intentions I didn¡¯t fully understand.

    My grandmother, ever perceptive, stepped forward with graceful poise. Her voice, warm but resolute, broke the tension.

    "Jack, how thoughtful of you. The painting is exquisite, but far too generous. Your presence is gift enough."

    Her gentle refusal was clear. A wave of relief washed over me. I immediately motioned to Daniel and the servers to remove the painting, eager to end the spectacle. I avoided Jack¡¯s eyes entirely. I didn¡¯t need to give anyone more reason to specte.

    Later, I stood by the window of the now quiet Shaw Estate, swirling a ss of whiskey in hand as the staff cleaned up remnants of the celebration. The garden, once filled withughter and clinking sses, was now still under the soft glow of string lights.

    Inside, the atmosphere had shifted. My mother¡¯s carefully curated smile had faded, reced by an expression of concern. Beside her, my grandmother sat silently in her favorite chair, absently toying with the sapphire bracelet on her wrist.

    Eventually, Grandmother looked up, meeting my eyes with a gaze that pierced straight through me.

    "Annie," she asked quietly, "what are you nning to do?"

    I inhaled slowly, trying to gather my thoughts. "I¡¯ll return the painting tomorrow," I said evenly. "Tonight¡¯s not the time."

    She and my mother exchanged a loaded nce one of those silent conversations built over decades of shared intuition. I could see it they were worried about more than just the gifts.

    "You should both rest," I added, forcing a faint smile. "It¡¯s been a long day."

    But my mother wasn¡¯t ready to let it go. "Annie... the Murphy family¡ª"

    "I understand," I interrupted gently but firmly.

    The look in her eyes told me she wasn¡¯t convinced. Honestly, neither was I.

    Once they were upstairs, I retreated to my study, closed the door, and stood again at the window. My reflection in the ss looked tired. Uncertain.

    For weeks, I¡¯d chalked Marcus Murphy¡¯s attentiveness up to duty an extension of William Murphy¡¯s longstanding kindness toward our family, especially after my father died. I had assumed Marcus was simply fulfilling a request from his father. Nothing more.

    But today¡¯s gift that mansion forced me to reconsider everything.

    No one parts with two hundred million dors without a very personal reason. Not even a Murphy.

    Was it possible that Marcus the enigmatic, powerful, intensely private Marcus Murphy had feelings for me?

    It felt almost absurd. He was Jack¡¯s uncle, for God¡¯s sake. Theplexity alone would scare off any sane person.

    And yet...

    I couldn¡¯t dismiss the possibility entirely.

    It¡¯s probably nothing, I told myself, sipping the whiskey. There must be another exnation.

    But if there wasn¡¯t if this was something how did I feel about it?

    Respect, certainly. Gratitude, yes. A strangefort in his steady presence. But was there more?

    Could there be more?

 Chapter 28: The Deed and the Debt

    <h4>Chapter 28: The Deed and the Debt</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "Are you sure you don¡¯t want Daniel to handle this?" Rachel asked, her concern clear in her voice as she sat beside me.

    I shook my head. "This needs to be done in person. I want to make it absolutely clear."

    The drive to the Simpson mansion was mercifully short. As we pulled up to the grand iron gates, I could already hear Mary Simpson¡¯s shrill voice echoing through the open windows. She was yelling at Jack what about, I didn¡¯t care anymore.

    I took a deep breath, straightened my spine, and stepped out of the car. Behind me, Rachel and the driver carefully carried the wrapped painting. As we approached the front steps, the massive doors flung open before we could even knock.

    Mary stood there, face pinched, eyes narrowing the moment she saw me. "I just knew it!" she spat, every wordced with venom. "Showing up first thing in the morning you¡¯re obviously looking for an excuse to reconnect with Jack!"

    A cold smile curved my lips. I didn¡¯t rise to the bait. Jack appeared behind her, face unreadable save for a flicker of emotion in his eyes guilt? Anger? Regret? He knew why I was here. And he hated it.

    "Mrs. Simpson, Mr. Simpson," I began evenly, my tone polite but utterly devoid of warmth, "the Shaw family doesn¡¯t ept rewards we haven¡¯t earned. My grandmother appreciates the sentiment behind your gift, but she cannot ept something so extravagant."

    I stepped aside so Rachel and the driver could set the painting down in the foyer. "She asked me to personally return it and express her gratitude. But it must be returned."

    Jack¡¯s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. "Returning a gift after it¡¯s been given?" His voice was sharp. "Is this how the Shaw family conducts itself now?"

    "The Shaw family doesn¡¯t attach hidden agendas to our gifts," I replied, meeting his gaze without flinching. "I won¡¯t specte on your motivations, but your appearance at her birthday wasn¡¯t out of sincere well-wishes."

    Jack¡¯s face flushed an angry shade of red. He opened his mouth to argue, then shut it again. He had no good defense, and he knew it.

    "If that¡¯s all, I¡¯ll be going." I turned to leave, eager to escape the suffocating tension of this ce.

    "Stop right there," Jack snapped behind me. I paused, turning slowly.

    "Yes?" I asked, arching a brow.

    "But you epted the Skke mansion?" he challenged, eyes burning with usation. "My gift isn¡¯t good enough, but you¡¯ll happily take a two-hundred-million-dor estate from my uncle?"

    I almostughed at the absurdity. "Is that any of your business?"

    "Such principles you have," he sneered, stepping closer. "Too proud to ept my painting but eager enough to take Marcus¡¯s mansion. You couldn¡¯t be more transparent, Anna."

    Something inside me snapped.

    The weeks of stress, the public humiliation of our divorce, the constant whispers behind my back, the way he still tried to control the narrative it all surged like fire through my veins. I stepped forward and ced both hands on his shoulders. Jack stiffened, caught off guard by the gesture.

    I smiled sweetly.

    Then I drove my knee sharply into his gut.

    The sound of air rushing from his lungs was more satisfying than it should have been. He crumpled, clutching his stomach, stunned and breathless.

    I stepped back, lighter somehow.

    "Ms. Shaw," Rachel said, holding the car door open, her tone full of barely concealed admiration. "That was... impressive."

    "Standard form, wouldn¡¯t you say?" I slid into the back seat, my heart still thudding but my voice calm.

    "Textbook perfect," she agreed, climbing in beside me. "Though next time you might want to use a bit more force. Mr. Simpson looks like someone who needs a solid reminder to reconsider his life choices."

    I smiled faintly but said nothing.

    The moment of victory faded quickly. As we pulled away from the Simpson estate and toward the Murphy residence, a headache bloomed behind my eyes. I massaged my temples. Facing Marcus Murphy suddenly felt much more daunting than dealing with my ex-husband.

    When we arrived at the Murphy Estate, the car rolled silently to a stop at the base of the fountain-lined path. I clutched the folder containing the deed and turned to Rachel.

    "Wait here," I said. "This one I need to do alone."

    She nodded without question.

    In the garden ahead, Marcus stood by the fountain, as if waiting. For me. William was nowhere in sight. Without him, the familiar fa?ade of family friendship slipped away, leaving only unspoken tension behind.

    I swallowed and forced my steps forward.

    "Uncle Marcus," I called out, voice light. "Admiring the garden? Where¡¯s William?"

    Marcus turned slowly, eyes dropping to the folder in my hands. "My father isn¡¯t here."

    Disappointment settled in my chest. He motioned for a nearby servant to leave us and gestured to the terrace.

    "Let¡¯s sit," he said.

    The table was already set with coffee and pastries, as if he¡¯d known I wasing. He wiped his hands with a napkin and reached for the teapot.

    "Uncle Marcus, please, allow me," I said, keeping my tone airy as I took over pouring.

    He let me. I took the opportunity to speak, voice careful. "You scared my grandmother and mother yesterday. I only asked you to help find the buyer, not to gift us the mansion. We can¡¯t ept something so valuable. My mother couldn¡¯t sleep all night worrying over it. She insisted I return the deed."

    "I bought it for you," he said inly.

    My heart stuttered. Five simple words far too loaded.

    Iughed softly, ying dumb. "I know William cares about our family, but we really can¡¯t ept it. If you think it¡¯s appropriate, I could purchase the mansion instead?"

    "Not for sale," he replied, eyes never leaving mine. "I don¡¯t take back gifts. If you don¡¯t want it, donate it to charity."

    I nearly rolled my eyes. It was my family¡¯s ancestral home. Donate it?

    He was being difficult on purpose. But this was Marcus Murphy I couldn¡¯t afford to lose my temper.

    "You¡¯re putting me in an impossible position," I said carefully. "I don¡¯t know how to exin this to my mother. We simply can¡¯t ept such generosity it wouldn¡¯t be appropriate."

    "Why not?" he pressed.

    I bit down on my frustration, realizing the truth with stunning rity: he wasn¡¯t just being generous. He was interested in me.

    Me.

    Despite all my experience navigating corporate sharks and PR disasters, I felt my cheeks grow warm under his stare. I pinched my thigh discreetly beneath the table, gathering myposure.

    "Uncle Marcus," I began, keeping my brightest smile firmly in ce, "you¡¯re an incredibly wealthy man. I know this mansion doesn¡¯t mean much to you, but two hundred million dors is no small matter for us. Gifts like this create obligations we can¡¯t afford."

    He said nothing, but I saw the amusement in his eyes. He wasn¡¯t buying the innocent act.

    I tried again, pouring more tea. "People might misinterpret your intentions. Worse, what if your girlfriend misunderstands? That would be terrible."

    His pupils dted at the word.

    "Girlfriend?" he repeated.

    "Yes. Catherine mentioned you¡¯d met someone. I¡¯m looking forward to meeting her," I added with deliberate cheer.

    The look he gave me was unreadable except for one thing. He knew I was bluffing. And he liked it.

    Marcus¡¯s POV

    I never expected one house to win over Ann Song.

    The mansion was a gesture a calcted one. A way to test the waters while making my intentions clear, so she¡¯d stop seeing me as some harmless "Uncle Marcus."

    In that regard, I seeded. She yed dumb, but not cold. That was enough. If she truly resented my feelings, she would¡¯ve thrown the folder at my face and walked out without another word. That¡¯s the kind of woman she is.

    So I¡¯ll take it slow.

    I slid the folder across the table, my voice calm and unreadable.

    "Take it. Consider it repayment of a debt I owe your father."

    Her expression flickered curious, unsure. "My father? Uncle Marcus, were you and my dad close?"

    "Not particrly. But I owe him a debt of gratitude."

    She wasn¡¯t buying it, and frankly, I didn¡¯t me her. Her eyes said it all skepticism, suspicion, restraint. She was right to doubt me, but I had time. I could wait.

    "Some matters are better left for another time," I added smoothly. "Perhaps when the moment is right, you¡¯ll understand. You don¡¯t believe me?"

    Ann hesitated. Her instincts pushed her toward the truth, but she was too polite to call me out directly.

    "But Uncle Marcus¡ª"

    "If you don¡¯t want it, donate it to charity," I cut in.

    That silenced her. We both knew she wouldn¡¯t give away her mother¡¯s childhood home. Her fingers gripped the folder tighter, her lips pressing into a conflicted line.

    "I¡¯ll consider what you said," she murmured atst.

    She walked out with the folder still in hand a quiet victory that pleased me more than I¡¯d ever admit.

    I was still on the driveway when my father approached, cane tapping against the stone, his eyes already narrowed in disapproval.

    "I thought you were supposed to be the smart one," he grunted. "All that dramatic staging, dragging me into your little charade, and you still couldn¡¯t make your intentions clear. Annie¡¯s not the type to fall for theatrics."

    "Should I book my flight back to Europe then?" I asked dryly.

    He raised his walking stick like he was ready to swing it. "Don¡¯t test me. You think this¡¯ll end cleanly? Jack¡¯s going to be a problem. That boy¡¯s not giving up without a fight."

    "Toote," I said simply.

    He gave me a hard look. "Of all the women in this world, you had to fall for Ann Song? She calls you ¡¯Uncle Marcus¡¯ for God¡¯s sake. She calls me Grandpa William. Do you realize how messy this is?"

    "I don¡¯t care," I replied. "There won¡¯t be anyone else. Only her."

    He took a long drink from his sk, the whiskey catching in his throat. "You¡¯re creating chaos. How am I supposed to look Annie in the eye now? You stubborn boy."

    But I knew he was already scheming how to make this work for me.

    "Maintain our rtionship with the Shaw family," he warned. "That girl¡¯s already suffered enough because of our family once. Don¡¯t you dare hurt her again. And Jack once Mary finds out, she¡¯ll cause hell. You can¡¯t dismiss our family ties like they¡¯re nothing."

    "She¡¯d better stay out of my business," I said coldly.

    Just then, Peter approached with news.

    "Mr. Murphy, Mr. Phillip Murphy has invited you both to lunch at his residence today. He specifically asked for your presence."

    My father shot me a look. "See? It¡¯s already starting."

    I simply nodded. "Perfect timing. I have matters to discuss with him too."

    Ann¡¯s POV

    I stepped into Shaw Estate, the folder still clenched in my hand like it might disappear if I let go. My mother spotted me from across the room. Her gazended on the documents immediately.

    "You saw Marcus?" she asked, already worried.

    "I saw him," I said with a sigh, setting the folder on the entryway table. "He refused to take it back."

    Her face tightened. The worry was etched in every line. I could tell this unexpected ¡¯gift¡¯ disturbed her as much as it did me.

    "He said something odd," I continued. "That it was to repay a debt to Dad. Did either of you know Marcus had any connection to him?"

    My mother stiffened. Her gaze darted to Grandma Margaret, who responded only with silence.

    "No," she finally said. "Your father barely knew Marcus. They might¡¯ve crossed paths at functions, but there was never any real connection."

    Exactly what I¡¯d suspected. I dropped onto the sofa, exhausted.

    "I figured. It was just a convenient excuse."

    The folder sat on the table like it belonged there. Maybe it did.

    "This mansion belonged to our family," I said softly, brushing my fingers along the edge. "And now it¡¯s back. I don¡¯t want to give it up again. But Marcus won¡¯t ept payment. We need to find a way to repay him properly."

    I hadn¡¯t meant to sound so anxious, but my voice betrayed me.

    Grandma¡¯s expression shifted. Serious now, eyes sharp.

    "Did he say anything else? Anything... unusual?"

    I knew what she meant. The question struck a chord.

    "I yed dumb," I admitted. "He saw right through me. But he didn¡¯t press the issue."

    She nodded, relieved.

    "Marcus is clever," she muttered.

    My mother frowned, her thoughts racing. "But why buy the mansion in the first ce? He¡¯d just returned from Europe, hadn¡¯t even met you yet. Annie, are you absolutely sure you hadn¡¯t met him before? The way he acted the first time he visited calling you ¡¯Annie¡¯ so casually..."

    "I¡¯m positive. I¡¯d remember someone like Marcus Murphy. Believe me."

    I stood, suddenly restless. "He¡¯s returning to Europe anyway. I¡¯ll just avoid Murphy Estate until things settle."

    I forced a smile. "It¡¯s better to have someone interested than hated, right? I must be quite the catch."

    That earned a rareugh from Grandma. "That¡¯s right. It was never your fault to begin with."

    Then my phone rang. Catherine Murphy¡¯s name lit up the screen. I excused myself and hurried upstairs to answer.

    "Don¡¯t speak, just listen," she said the moment I picked up.

    And I did.

    The sound of the Murphy family in heated debate filled my ear. Catherine had deliberately looped me into their drama.

    I listened, frozen, as Mary Simpson¡¯s voice snapped through the noise.

    "We¡¯re all family here, so let¡¯s not pretend. Dad, exin what Marcus is thinking. Why would he hand over the Skke mansion to the Shaws? Doesn¡¯t he know Simpson Group has development ns for that entire area?"

    The war had officially begun.

 Chapter 29: Wrong Message, Right Man

    <h4>Chapter 29: Wrong Message, Right Man</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    William¡¯s voice was the first to cut through. Gruff, unimpressed. "Marcus makes his own decisions. That property belonged to him, not Simpson Group."

    "But the timing!" Mary snapped, indignationcing every word. "Just as we¡¯re about to announce the Skke development? Don¡¯t tell me that¡¯s coincidence!"

    "With me, nothing is coincidence," came Marcus¡¯s voice cool, unbothered.

    I bit my lip to suppress a smile. This man is something else.

    Voices erupted in protest. Then Phillip Murphy Marcus¡¯s older brother and Catherine¡¯s father tried to bring calm.

    "Marcus just returned to America. How could he possibly know Simpson Group¡¯s internal ns?"

    Mary¡¯s voice returned, practically vibrating with outrage. "He doesn¡¯t care about his own sister¡¯s family business, but he knows all about Shaw affairs. Let me make this clear: he can like whoever he wants, but Anna Shaw is off-limits. You might not care about appearances, but the Simpson family still has a reputation to maintain."

    The words stung, despite how many times I¡¯d heard variations of them over the years. Same old Mary. Always judging, never knowing.

    "You uncle and nephew," she continued, growing more shrill, "falling over yourselves to impress her at that party it was pathetic! Are there really no other women in the world?"

    I froze, nearly dropping my phone.

    Wait. Jack too? No way.

    Memories surfaced Jack¡¯s unexpected nces, the lingering tension between us, the oil painting I¡¯d thought was a maniption tactic. I¡¯d returned it without blinking. Was that actually sincere? Divorce does wonders for one¡¯s appeal, apparently. A dry smile tugged at my lips.

    "You can¡¯t dictate my choices," Marcus replied, voice like ice. "And the Simpson family¡¯s reputation is none of my concern."

    I had to respect his honesty. If he weren¡¯t Jack¡¯s uncle if things were different I might¡¯ve genuinely considered him. Our temperaments were uncannily aligned.

    "Marcus Murphy!" Mary practically screeched, forcing me to pull the phone away. "Are you truly willing to throw away blood ties for a divorced woman?"

    Before Marcus could speak, Jack¡¯s voice came in low, sharp. "Uncle Marcus, Anna is my woman."

    I choked on the water I was sipping.

    Excuse me? What kind of possessive nonsense was that? This wasn¡¯t a romance novel. He lost the right to im me when he chose Lucy over everything else.

    Mary erupted. "What do you mean your woman? Jack Simpson, let me tell you something: you need to forget her entirely! That... that loose woman will never cross the Simpson threshold again, not while I¡¯m alive!"

    Despite myself, bitterness surged. So that¡¯s how she¡¯ll always see me. A ¡¯loose woman.¡¯ No matter what I did, how I lived, her judgment clung like smoke.

    "Mind your words in front of the children," William cut in with disapproval. "Not appreciating Anna is Simpson Group¡¯s loss, not hers. Don¡¯t tter yourself."

    I heard Catherine stiflingughter through the line, and my lips curled in a real smile. Thank you, William. You say what I can¡¯t.

    Then George Simpson added his voice. "Anna was once our daughter-inw. Now that she¡¯s divorced, rumors involving her and Marcus would damage both families¡¯ names. Marcus, I urge you to think this through."

    Silence. I leaned closer to the phone, heartbeat ticking.

    "You¡¯re wee to disown me," Marcus said, steady as stone.

    My eyes widened. He actually said it. No hesitation, no second thoughts. The man was relentless.

    I didn¡¯t know whether to be ttered or concerned. Apparently I¡¯m worth family war now. But any swelling ego faded quickly. I didn¡¯t want this kind of attention not from Jack, not from Marcus. Entanglements with either would only bring chaos. Being single, sipping wine, calling the shots... that sounded much more appealing. Freedom. No emotionalndmines.

    Catherine¡¯s messages buzzed through secondster:

    [NOW I get it. Uncle Marcus bans me from clubs and won¡¯t let me take you out? Hidden agenda all along.]

    [Trying to seduce my best friend and cut my allowance? Unforgivable.]

    Iughed, shaking my head but my mind was already drifting. Mary had mentioned the Skke District. Marcus¡¯s people had brought it up too. The Simpson Group had clearly gotten insider info, which exined Jack¡¯s aggressive bidding at the auction.

    But now? The property was back in Shaw hands. Skke could be a turning point for our expansion.

    Mene and go. Business? That¡¯s forever.

    I stood at the head of the meeting table in Shaw Tower and addressed my team. "With Simpson Group still recovering from recent internal disputes, now is the perfect time to move. Let¡¯s stake our im on East Lake."

    The team buzzed with energy, nodding, taking notes. My thoughts, however, weren¡¯t far from Skke mansion. Owning it would anchor our expansion but that meant more contact with Marcus.

    A knock. I looked up.

    Sean stepped in, sharp in a tailored suit light years from the desperate man I¡¯d once met at Olympus Club.

    "Ms. Shaw," he greeted, cing keys on my desk. "Rosa Vi. I wanted to return them personally."

    I studied him for a moment. Capable. Ambitious. Quick to learn.

    "There¡¯s a senior strategy meeting in progress," I said, standing. "You weren¡¯t scheduled to join until next quarter, but since you¡¯re heree. Let¡¯s see what you can do."

    Sean¡¯s eyes widened with surprise before he nodded,posed. "Yes, Ms. Shaw."

    As he followed me into the boardroom, I felt it again that rity. Let others lose themselves in drama. I had no time for it. Not when legacy and power were mine for the iming.

    Marcus¡¯ POV

    Just as the elevator doors were about to close, I caught sight of a familiar figure slipping through the hotel¡¯s revolving entrance.

    Anna Shaw.

    Our eyes met for the briefest moment then she turned away as if she hadn¡¯t seen me.

    Joseph chuckled beside me, rocking slightly on his heels. "Would you look at that? The fearless Anna Shaw takes one look at you and bolts. Didn¡¯t realize you were that scary."

    I kept my expression impassive, though a strange tightness gripped my chest.

    "Perhaps she¡¯s just busy," I replied tly, watching the floor numbers ascend. Still, I couldn¡¯t shake the bitter taste her avoidance left behind.

    "Sure, sure," Joseph said with a smirk, clearly unconvinced.

    I didn¡¯t respond. He knew me well enough to know I wouldn¡¯t entertain the topic further. He pulled out his phone and began reviewing documents while I retreated into silence.

    She hadn¡¯t even acknowledged me. After what happened at her grandmother¡¯s birthday... after everything, she couldn¡¯t share an elevator with me?

    The meeting dragged on. Nearly three hours passed before I signed the final set of documents. As I stepped out into the hallway, my phone vibrated.

    The message made me freeze.

    I¡¯ve reserved room 3303 at Sapphire Sky Hotel long term. Come tonight.

    The sender: Anna.

    I stared at the screen. She¡¯d meant to send this to someone else her secret lover. But it hade to me.

    The irony hit me like a punch. She had no idea the man she was inviting tonight was the same one she¡¯d just run from in the lobby.

    The man she avoided in public... was the same one she waited for in private.

    A bitter smile twisted my lips.

    Without hesitation, I replied:

    OK.

    Rachel¡¯s POV

    It was nearly eleven by the time I stood waiting in the underground parking garage. Dinner had run long. When Ms. Shaw finally emerged from the restaurant with Sean beside her, she moved with the deliberate grace of someone who had had just enough wine to feel it but not enough to lose control.

    "Sean," she said, her tone blending warmth withmand, "Starting next week, you¡¯ll be joining the senior management meetings. It¡¯s time."

    Sean kept hisposure, but I could tell from the flicker in his eyes that he was surprised.

    "Thank you, Ms. Shaw. I won¡¯t let you down."

    "I know you won¡¯t," she replied calmly. "Just watch and learn."

    Once Ms. Shaw settled into the backseat, she caught my eye in the rearview mirror. "Let¡¯s go, Rachel. Sapphire Sky Hotel."

    I started the engine. Just as I turned toward the garage exit, two figures suddenly stepped into our headlights. I mmed the brakes.

    "Ms. Shaw," I gasped, staring wide-eyed at the windshield, "That¡¯s Joseph Walker... and Mr. Murphy?"

    Before she could respond, the rear door was yanked open. In a blur, a man was shoved into the backseat beside her.

    The scent of blood hit immediately.

    It was Marcus Murphy.

    His eyes were closed, face pale, and blood soaked through the front of his ck shirt.

    Joseph leaned in, voice taut with urgency. "Drive. Now."

    He mmed the door and vanished into the shadows.

    I stared at Ms. Shaw, frozen. This was beyond any job description I¡¯d signed up for.

    "Ms. Shaw?" I whispered.

    She stared at Marcus in shock but itsted only a heartbeat. Her voice turned sharp and decisive.

    "Go. Get us out of here."

    I elerated up the ramp, onto the street. The flush from her wine had vanished; her eyes wereser focused.

    "Uncle Marcus," she called, shaking his shoulder. "Uncle Marcus, wake up!"

    He groaned faintly. "Stop... shaking. Not... dead."

    Relief briefly softened her features. Then it vanished behind steely concern.

    "What happened? Where are you hurt? How serious is it?"

    No answer.

    "Hospital," she ordered. "Not the closest one take a longer route."

    I nodded. Smart. If someone was after him, they¡¯d check the nearest ER.

    But before I could turn, Marcus croaked out: "No hospital."

    "Don¡¯t be ridiculous," Ms. Shaw snapped. "You¡¯re bleeding."

    From the mirror, I could see how bad it was. Blood trickled through his fingers, dark and heavy. His jaw clenched as if trying to hold himself together.

    "Your ce," he said hoarsely.

    Ms. Shaw froze.

    I understood her hesitation. Taking him home was personal, risky.

    "Is there a reason you can¡¯t go to a hospital?" she asked. "Is someone... looking for you?"

    He gave the slightest nod.

    Ms. Shaw exhaled, low and resigned. "Rachel, take us to Rosa Vi."

 Chapter 30: Unspoken

    <h4>Chapter 30: Unspoken</h4>

    Rachel¡¯s POV

    By the time we arrived at Rosa Vi, Marcus¡¯s breathing had grown morebored, and Anna¡¯sposed facade was beginning to crack around the edges. I parked as close to the entrance as possible, then rushed to open the back door.

    "I¡¯ll prepare a guest room," I said, hurrying ahead to unlock the door while Ms. Shaw helped Marcus from the car. His imposing height made the task difficult, but somehow she managed to support him as they slowly made their way inside.

    I moved quickly through the vi, selecting the room that had until recently been Sean¡¯s temporary quarters. It seemed the most appropriate clean, recently vacated, and on the ground floor, which would spare Mr. Murphy the effort of climbing stairs. I hastily changed the sheets and turned down the bed before rushing back to help.

    Anna was guiding Marcus down the hallway, his arm draped heavily across her shoulders. Despite the obvious strain, she refused my offer of assistance with a quick shake of her head.

    "Uncle Marcus," she said as she helped him onto the bed, "I¡¯m sorry about the amodations. This room was recently upied, but it¡¯s clean. You¡¯ll have to make do until we figure out what to do next."

    In the bright overhead light of the bedroom, the full extent of Marcus¡¯s injury became visible. His ck dress shirt was soaked through with blood, the dark fabric glistening wetly where it clung to his abdomen. As he shifted position, a fresh surge of crimson seeped between the fingers still pressed against the wound.

    Anna¡¯s reaction was immediate and visceral. Her face drained of all color, eyes widening in horror before she pped a hand over her mouth and bolted from the room. The abrupt departure seemed to surprise even Marcus, whose eyebrows rose slightly despite his pain.

    I rushed after Ms. Shaw, finding her hunched over the toilet in the adjacent bathroom. I grabbed a bottle of water from the nearby mini-fridge and hurried to her side.

    "Ms. Shaw, are you alright?" I asked, concern overwhelming professional distance as I knelt beside her.

    She waved me away weakly, still unable to speak as another wave of nausea overtook her.

    "Go," she finally managed, her voice raw. "Check on Mr. Murphy."

    I left the water within her reach and retrieved the first aid kit from the hall closet before returning to the guest room.

    "Mr. Murphy, I apologize for Ms. Shaw¡¯s absence," I exined, opening the medical kit. "She has a severe reaction to blood. The smell doesn¡¯t bother her, but the sight..." I trailed off, handing him several sterile gauze pads. "She physically can¡¯t handle it."

    Something flickered in Marcus¡¯s expression surprise.

    "When did this start?" he asked, pressing the gauze against his wound with barely a wince.

    "I¡¯m not entirely sure," I answered, focusing on unpacking the first aid supplies. "She¡¯s been this way since I started working for her. There was an incident once, on our way to the office. We came across a car ident, and Anna Ms. Shaw saw the driver crawling out of an overturned vehicle, covered in blood. She fainted on the spot, then woke up vomiting uncontrobly."

    "Here," I offered, "these might help control the bleeding until the doctor arrives."

    Marcus took the bandages with a steady hand that belied his condition.

    "Go check on her," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I¡¯m fine."

    Just then, Oscar Porter came in a hurry, his medical bag clutched in one hand.

    "Where is she?" he demanded without preamble, his voice tight with concern. "What happened? Why isn¡¯t she at a hospital? Is she trying to bleed out in her living room?"

    Before I could exin, Anna emerged from the bathroom. Herplexion was ashen, her usual confidence momentarily diminished by physical weakness. Still, she managed an eye roll at the doctor¡¯s dramatic entrance.

    "I didn¡¯t call you here to lecture me," she said, leaning against the doorframe for support. "Your patient is in there."

    Oscar blinked in surprise.

    "What patient? Male or female?"

    Oscar¡¯s POV

    I followed Rachel into the room and immediately assessed the scene with professional detachment. A many on the bed, one hand pressed firmly against his abdomen. His ck clothing was soaked with blood, but his face remained remarkablyposed.

    "Dr. Porter," Rachel said formally, "this is Mr. Marcus Murphy."

    I froze momentarily. Marcus Murphy? The Marcus Murphy? I¡¯d never met him, but everyone in Skyview City knew of him. The genius businessman who¡¯d built an empire in Europe. Jack Simpson¡¯s uncle. The Murphy family¡¯s golden son.

    "So you¡¯re Marcus Murphy," I said, unable to keep a hint of sarcasm from my voice. "First time meeting, though your reputation precedes you."

    Before Rachel could finish introducing me, Murphy¡¯s eyes met mine directly.

    "Thank you foring, Oscar," he said, his voice steady despite his condition.

    The familiarity caught me off guard. I hadn¡¯t been introduced yet, but he already knew my name. The realization sent an ufortable chill down my spine. This man had likely investigated everyone in Anna¡¯s circle including me and my brother, Logan.

    "Let¡¯s see what we¡¯re dealing with," I said, snapping into professional mode as I approached the bed.

    I donned gloves from my kit and reached for the medical scissors.

    "I need to cut this shirt away."

    Murphy simply nodded. I cut through the expensive ck fabric, revealing the wound on his lower left abdomen.

    It was a deepceration, clean edged likely from a knife with a thin, sharp de. Though bleeding steadily, it appeared to have missed vital organs.

    "This is serious," I said, applying pressure while assessing the damage. "The wound is deep, but fortunately it doesn¡¯t appear to have prated the abdominal cavity. It needs proper suturing, preferably in a hospital setting. I strongly rmend¡ª"

    "No hospital," Murphy interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Handle it here."

    I raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze directly.

    "Mr. Murphy, I don¡¯t have proper anesthetics or a sterile environment here. Hospital would be the safest option."

    "Just do it here," he repeated, unflinching.

    I studied him for a moment, trying to understand his refusal. Was he running from something? Someone?

    The knife wound certainly suggested trouble the kind that might follow him to a hospital.

    "Fine," I conceded with a sigh. "But I want to state for the record that if infection orplications developter, that¡¯s not on me or my medical skills."

    His mouth curved slightly.

    "Understood. Proceed."

    I took out the suture kit from my bag, preparing the area around the wound. The cut was approximately four inches long and would require at least fifteen stitches. As I cleaned the wound with antiseptic, I couldn¡¯t help but notice his physical condition. Despite the injury, his body was in peak form well defined muscle structure, not an ounce of excess fat. This was a man who took exceptional care of himself.

    "This will hurt," I warned.

    He met my gaze evenly.

    "I can handle it."

    I began suturing without furtherment. The needle pierced his skin, and I watched carefully for a reaction a flinch, a sharp intake of breath, anything. There was nothing. Not even a twitch.

    Most men I¡¯d treated would be gritting their teeth, gripping the bedsheets, or at least tensing their muscles. Marcus Murphy did none of these things.

    As I continued working, my initial antagonism began to give way to reluctant respect. Whatever I thought of him personally, his self-control was remarkable. Each stitch closed the wound neatly, and still he showed no sign of difort beyond the asional measured breath.

    "Almost done," I murmured as I ced the final stitches. "You¡¯re going to have a scar. Shame about those perfect abs."

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Oscar had treated Marcus¡¯s wound, and I walked into the room, still smelling of blood. One look at Marcus¡¯s pale face made anxiety coil in my stomach. He didn¡¯t show much emotion, but the sweat beading on his brow and the unnatural pallor of his lips said enough.

    I asked Rachel to bring a warm towel, and just as I reached out to wipe his forehead, Oscar snatched it from my hands.

    "I¡¯ll do it. I¡¯m the doctor taking care of patients is literally my job," he said, his tone oddly sharp.

    Marcus and I both fell silent. Why did Oscar¡¯s voice sound so... grating?

    I mentally rolled my eyes but still asked, genuinely, "Uncle Marcus, how are you feeling? Are you sure you don¡¯t want to go to the hospital? Should I call Peter? Or Joseph?"

    Oscar cut in before Marcus could respond. "Anna, what¡¯s that supposed to mean? You doubt my skills now? Rx. Your Marcus uncle isn¡¯t going to die."

    The way he emphasized your Marcus uncle made it clear he wasn¡¯t just being defensive. He was aiming that jab directly at Marcus. I sighed inwardly, reminded of how Oscar had objected to my marriage to Jack Simpson and had even confronted Jack about it. The two of them hadn¡¯t spoken since.

    Looking at Oscar now, the bitterness hit me back then, everyone had seen clearly but me.

    I shot him a few warning nces. Don¡¯t start. Marcus wasn¡¯t Jack. The game was different this time. Besides, this was Marcus Murphy. I could reject his advances, but I couldn¡¯t disrespect him.

    Marcus spoke calmly. "No need. They¡¯lle after they¡¯ve handled things."

    When neither of us responded, he added, "Peter will find me."

    A tightness gripped my chest. After they¡¯ve handled things? I suddenly realized how little I truly knew about him. He was William Murphy¡¯s youngest son, a force in the family¡¯s financial empire... but beyond that?

    Later, Oscar pulled me aside. "Logan mentioned once Marcus has enemies in Europe¡¯s business circles. The market over there isn¡¯t like America. That he built an empire there? That says everything. He¡¯s ruthless. And you you just bring him into your home like it¡¯s nothing?"

    I quickly mped a hand over his mouth. "Lower your voice. Do you want him to hear you?"

    "That¡¯s the idea," Oscar replied, raising his voice instead.

    I dragged him to the living room. "If you¡¯re really worried about me, then keep what happened today to yourself. Uncle Marcus has helped me a lot. I trust he has his own ns. He wouldn¡¯t drag me into danger."

    Oscar scoffed. "He hasn¡¯t wronged me, no. But he¡¯s obviously into you. And you still call him Uncle Marcus? You¡¯ve got the nerve to say it, and he¡¯s got the nerve to answer?"

    His voice rose. "Haven¡¯t you learned from Jack Simpson? Now you¡¯re cozying up to the Murphy family? Do you know what you¡¯re walking into? Have you forgotten how it endedst time? Already?"

    He jabbed a finger at my forehead. Repeatedly.

    I grabbed it. "Ow! Watch it! You¡¯re going to break something."

    He yelped. "Agh how can a woman like you have such bad taste in men? Maybe I should just stop caring."

    I released him and sighed. "I know you care. And I appreciate it. But I¡¯m not going to let any man control my life again. Not Marcus, not anyone."

    I softened. "About the mansion in Skke District... Regardless of his motives, I need to return the favor."

    Oscar threw off his white coat. "Fine. I¡¯m done worrying. Where do I sleep?"

    "There are guest rooms upstairs. Take your pick they¡¯re all clean."

    When I returned to Marcus¡¯s room with hot water, his gaze met mine. My heartbeat stumbled. Had he heard what Oscar said earlier?

    "Uncle Marcus, feeling better? Want some water?" I kept my voice steady.

    He didn¡¯t answer immediately, just sat up slowly. I rushed to help him, propping pillows behind his back. My hand brushed his arm and under the crisp fabric of his shirt, I could feel lean muscle. He was strong. Solid.

    He finished the water in one gulp.

    "Want more?" I asked gently.

    "No, thank you," he said, his eyes lingering on mine.

    His voice... his look... for a strange moment, it reminded me of that night at the Sapphire Sky Hotel. Of the man who had kissed my back in the dark and asked if I wanted more. I had been too exhausted to answer. Too overwhelmed to move.

    And just like that, I remembered I was supposed to meet him tonight.

    A cold shock passed through me. It was already two in the morning.

    I had intended to draw clear boundaries tonight. To keep things strictly physical between us going forward. But with everything that had happened with Marcus, I hadpletely forgotten.

    And I never forget.

    "Uncle Marcus, would you like to lie down and rest?" I asked, reaching for my phone.

    He noticed. "Is something wrong? It¡¯s quitete."

    "Nothing urgent. Just need to reply to a message," I said with a smile.

    "Go ahead," he said smoothly. "I have something to tell you afterward."

    I sat on the edge of the bed, quickly typing out a message:

    [Sorry, something came up. Let¡¯s reschedule.]

    The second I hit send, Marcus¡¯s phone lit up on the nightstand.

    I nced at it instinctively.

    And in that instant, everything inside me went still. My mind nked.

    My heart skipped a beat.Anna¡¯s POV

    Oscar had treated Marcus¡¯s wound, and I walked into the room, still smelling of blood. One look at Marcus¡¯s pale face made anxiety coil in my stomach. He didn¡¯t show much emotion, but the sweat beading on his brow and the unnatural pallor of his lips said enough.

    I asked Rachel to bring a warm towel, and just as I reached out to wipe his forehead, Oscar snatched it from my hands.

    "I¡¯ll do it. I¡¯m the doctor taking care of patients is literally my job," he said, his tone oddly sharp.

    Marcus and I both fell silent. Why did Oscar¡¯s voice sound so... grating?

    I mentally rolled my eyes but still asked, genuinely, "Uncle Marcus, how are you feeling? Are you sure you don¡¯t want to go to the hospital? Should I call Peter? Or Joseph?"

    Oscar cut in before Marcus could respond. "Anna, what¡¯s that supposed to mean? You doubt my skills now? Rx. Your Marcus uncle isn¡¯t going to die."

    The way he emphasized your Marcus uncle made it clear he wasn¡¯t just being defensive. He was aiming that jab directly at Marcus. I sighed inwardly, reminded of how Oscar had objected to my marriage to Jack Simpson and had even confronted Jack about it. The two of them hadn¡¯t spoken since.

    Looking at Oscar now, the bitterness hit me back then, everyone had seen clearly but me.

    I shot him a few warning nces. Don¡¯t start. Marcus wasn¡¯t Jack. The game was different this time. Besides, this was Marcus Murphy. I could reject his advances, but I couldn¡¯t disrespect him.

    Marcus spoke calmly. "No need. They¡¯lle after they¡¯ve handled things."

    When neither of us responded, he added, "Peter will find me."

    A tightness gripped my chest. After they¡¯ve handled things? I suddenly realized how little I truly knew about him. He was William Murphy¡¯s youngest son, a force in the family¡¯s financial empire... but beyond that?

    Later, Oscar pulled me aside. "Logan mentioned once Marcus has enemies in Europe¡¯s business circles. The market over there isn¡¯t like America. That he built an empire there? That says everything. He¡¯s ruthless. And you you just bring him into your home like it¡¯s nothing?"

    I quickly mped a hand over his mouth. "Lower your voice. Do you want him to hear you?"

    "That¡¯s the idea," Oscar replied, raising his voice instead.

    I dragged him to the living room. "If you¡¯re really worried about me, then keep what happened today to yourself. Uncle Marcus has helped me a lot. I trust he has his own ns. He wouldn¡¯t drag me into danger."

    Oscar scoffed. "He hasn¡¯t wronged me, no. But he¡¯s obviously into you. And you still call him Uncle Marcus? You¡¯ve got the nerve to say it, and he¡¯s got the nerve to answer?"

    His voice rose. "Haven¡¯t you learned from Jack Simpson? Now you¡¯re cozying up to the Murphy family? Do you know what you¡¯re walking into? Have you forgotten how it endedst time? Already?"

    He jabbed a finger at my forehead. Repeatedly.

    I grabbed it. "Ow! Watch it! You¡¯re going to break something."

    He yelped. "Agh how can a woman like you have such bad taste in men? Maybe I should just stop caring."

    I released him and sighed. "I know you care. And I appreciate it. But I¡¯m not going to let any man control my life again. Not Marcus, not anyone."

    I softened. "About the mansion in Skke District... Regardless of his motives, I need to return the favor."

    Oscar threw off his white coat. "Fine. I¡¯m done worrying. Where do I sleep?"

    "There are guest rooms upstairs. Take your pick they¡¯re all clean."

    When I returned to Marcus¡¯s room with hot water, his gaze met mine. My heartbeat stumbled. Had he heard what Oscar said earlier?

    "Uncle Marcus, feeling better? Want some water?" I kept my voice steady.

    He didn¡¯t answer immediately, just sat up slowly. I rushed to help him, propping pillows behind his back. My hand brushed his arm and under the crisp fabric of his shirt, I could feel lean muscle. He was strong. Solid.

    He finished the water in one gulp.

    "Want more?" I asked gently.

    "No, thank you," he said, his eyes lingering on mine.

    His voice... his look... for a strange moment, it reminded me of that night at the Sapphire Sky Hotel. Of the man who had kissed my back in the dark and asked if I wanted more. I had been too exhausted to answer. Too overwhelmed to move.

    And just like that, I remembered I was supposed to meet him tonight.

    A cold shock passed through me. It was already two in the morning.

    I had intended to draw clear boundaries tonight. To keep things strictly physical between us going forward. But with everything that had happened with Marcus, I hadpletely forgotten.

    And I never forget.

    "Uncle Marcus, would you like to lie down and rest?" I asked, reaching for my phone.

    He noticed. "Is something wrong? It¡¯s quitete."

    "Nothing urgent. Just need to reply to a message," I said with a smile.

    "Go ahead," he said smoothly. "I have something to tell you afterward."

    I sat on the edge of the bed, quickly typing out a message:

    [Sorry, something came up. Let¡¯s reschedule.]

    The second I hit send, Marcus¡¯s phone lit up on the nightstand.

    I nced at it instinctively.

    And in that instant, everything inside me went still. My mind nked.

    My heart skipped a beat.

 Chapter 31: Warning

    <h4>Chapter 31: Warning</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    The sudden chime of Marcus¡¯s phone still echoed in my mind as I stared at him, momentarily frozen. My thoughts raced at impossible speed, trying to process what had just happened. It couldn¡¯t be the timing was too perfect, too coincidental. I¡¯d just texted my mystery lover, and Marcus¡¯s phone had immediately chimed with a notification.

    I forced myself to take a breath, to think logically. The room felt suddenly airless, the softmplight that had seemedforting moments ago now felt exposing.

    Marcus had picked up his phone casually, ncing at the screen with no particr reaction before setting it back down. Now he was answering another call, his voice low and measured despite his injury.

    "It¡¯s been handled," he said into the phone. "Peter will be here shortly."

    He ended the call and turned his attention back to me. I realized I¡¯d been standing motionless, still processing the impossible thought that had shed through my mind. Could Marcus Murphy possibly be the same man I¡¯d been meeting at the Sapphire Sky Hotel? The mysterious lover whose face I¡¯d never clearly seen?

    I mentally shook myself. That¡¯s absurd. The timing of the notification could be pure coincidence. Besides, our first encounter at the hotel had happened before Marcus returned to America. The timeline simply didn¡¯t add up. Relief washed over me.

    Marcus¡¯s prating gaze studied my face. I had the distinct feeling he could read every thought crossing my mind, every emotion flickering across my features.

    "You¡¯re concerned," he observed. It wasn¡¯t a question.

    I hesitated, wondering if I should voice my actual concerns or deflect.

    "Those men who attacked you," I began carefully, "they¡¯re not from Europe, are they? They won¡¯t follow you here?"

    A hint of something amusement, perhaps? flickered in his eyes. "No. They won¡¯t be troubling you. This won¡¯t bring danger to your doorstep."

    I felt heat rising to my cheeks, embarrassed that he¡¯d so easily seen through my polite inquiry to the real fear underneath. Oscar¡¯s warnings echoed in my mind about Marcus¡¯s powerful enemies, about the potential danger of harboring him.

    "I¡¯m not afraid of trouble," I rified, lifting my chin slightly. "But I can¡¯t affordplications right now. You know the Shaw family¡¯s situation." I paused, vulnerability making my voice softer than I intended. "If anything happens to me, my grandmother and mother... they wouldn¡¯t survive it.

    Shaw Corp is all we have left."

    Marcus¡¯s expression remained unreadable. He nodded once, the gesture somehow conveying both understanding and reassurance more effectively than words could have.

    "You should stay here for now," I said, making a swift decision. "At Rosa Vi, I mean. You certainly can¡¯t return home in this condition William would be beside himself with worry." I gestured vaguely at the room around us. "This vi sits empty most of the time. Few people know about it.

    It¡¯s not much, but you could recuperate here without...

    plications."

    I expected him to refuse, to insist on returning to Murphy Estate, to remind me that a man of his resources had better options than hiding out in my spare property. Instead, his answer came without hesitation:

    "All right."

    The simple eptance caught me off guard. I nodded, suddenly uncertain what to do next.

    Before I could formte a response, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway broke the silence. Marcus seemed unsurprised, as if he¡¯d been expecting it.

    "That would be Peter," he said. "And likely Joseph as well."

    Half an hourter, I stood in the entryway of Rosa Vi, watching as Joseph and Peter entered. Peter lookedrgely unruffled his suit slightly creased but otherwise intact.

    Joseph, on the other hand, looked like he¡¯d been dragged backward through a hedge. His normally impable hair stuck out at odd angles, one sleeve of his designer jacket was partially torn, and there was a smudge of something dark on his cor that I sincerely hoped wasn¡¯t blood.

    "Anna!" Joseph greeted me with forced cheer, automatically reaching up to fix his disheveled hair. "Long time no see."

    I arched an eyebrow at his appearance but refrained frommenting directly. "Joseph. Peter. Marcus is in the first guest room down the hall."

    Joseph chuckled, straightening his tie or attempting to, since it was no longer properly attached to his cor.

    "I¡¯ve just recruited a new batch of young men at the club each one more handsome than thest. Even more stunning than your Sean. If you¡¯d like a membership card, I¡¯ll give you a twenty five percent discount."

    "Joseph, please don¡¯t joke about such things," I said, my tone cooling considerably. "I merely visited Olympus Club for a few drinks. Sean is a rare talent, and I value genuine ability. Those rumors about Sean are nothing but malicious gossip. He¡¯s now an official employee of Shaw Corp, and I¡¯d appreciate it if you could help clear his name rather than perpetuate false narratives."

    Joseph¡¯s eyes widened slightly, and he raised his hands in mock surrender.

    "Understood, understood."

    Something about his too easy acquiescence made me suspicious. Of course Joseph knew the truth. If Marcus was as thorough and intelligent as his reputation suggested, he would have investigated Sean¡¯s background and my connection to him long ago. Which meant Joseph was deliberately teasing me testing my reaction, perhaps.

    "You know," I said, deciding to return fire, "that disheveled look is quite distinctive on you, Joseph. If you ever decided to work the floor at Olympus Club yourself, you¡¯d put all your employees out of business."

    Joseph pointed at me, a genuineugh escaping him. "Such a sharp tongue on you! let your Uncle Marcus deal with you."

    Marcus¡¯s POV

    The door clicked shut behind Anna, her reluctant footsteps fading down the hallway. I shifted my position, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at the fresh stitches in my abdomen.

    Peter had maintained his professional silence during Anna¡¯s presence, but the moment she was out of earshot, he approached my bedside with urgency.

    "Sir," he began, his voice low and crisp, "I followed the car as instructed.

    Tracked it all the way to a residential area called Moonlight Cove."

    I nodded for him to continue, my mind already racing ahead, cataloging possibilities and connections.

    "The entiremunity is doing a great job of security," Peter continued, his usual stoic expression betraying a hint of frustration. "State-of-the-art security systems, private guards at every entrance. I couldn¡¯t risk following them inside without being detected."

    Joseph, who had been uncharacteristically quiet until now, suddenly perked up, unable to contain himself any longer.

    "Moonlight Cove!" he eximed, gesturing expansively with his hands.

    "One of the most exclusive residentialmunities in Skyview City. You practically need a background check just to drive past it these days. Real estate values have tripled there in thest five years alone. I tried to buy a ce there myself, but I was too slow ¡ª"

    "Joseph," I cut him off, not in the mood for his tangents. "Focus."

    He cleared his throat, looking only slightly chastened. "Right. Well, the interesting thing is who lives there." His eyes gleamed with that particr mix of gossip and intrigue that often made him invaluable in my informationwork. "Your nephew Jack Simpson has a residence there. So do most of his friends-that whole crowd from Simpson Group."

    "Jack Simpson?" I repeated, keeping my voice carefully neutral even as my mind rebelled against the implication.

    Joseph let out a low whistle, studying my face with undisguised curiosity. "Well, well. Your own nephew wants you dead. Family drama at its finest.

    I shot him a warning nce that silenced him immediately.

    "We don¡¯t know that," I said, forcing myself to consider all angles. "Let¡¯s not jump to conclusions."

    The possibility was absurd on its face. Jack and I had never been particrly close-my years in Europe had seen to that-but there had never been any significant animosity between us.

    Nothing that would warrant an attempt on my life.

    But then again, things had changed since my return. Anna. The Skke mansion. The Phoenix Project. My very public intrusion into what Jack clearly still considered his territory.

    I nced down at my wound, assessing it with clinical detachment. The attack itself told a story-one thrust, non-fatal but debilitating. If the intent had been to kill me, the assant had missed every vital organ.

    "If they wanted me dead," I said slowly, "I would be. This wasn¡¯t an assassination attempt."

    "Then what was it?" Joseph asked, his customary flippancy momentarily reced by genuine curiosity.

    "A message, perhaps. A warning." I straightened slightly, ignoring the sharp pain the movement caused. "Or possibly the first move in arger game."

    Joseph gestured vaguely toward the ceiling. "What about your lovely Anna? Can she keep a secret?"

    A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth without my permission.

    "She won¡¯t say anything."

    "You seem awfully confident," Joseph remarked, his eyebrows raised suggestively.

    I ignored him, turning back to Peter.

    "I¡¯ll stay here for now. Return to Murphy Estate tomorrow morning.

    When asked, tell them I¡¯m taking a few days away on business. Nothing more."

    Peter nodded once, his understandingplete. In the years he¡¯d worked for me, we¡¯d developed an unspokennguage of our own. He knew exactly what information to share, what to withhold, and how to deflect any unwanted questions.

    "Understood, Mr. Murphy."

    When I I woke up the next day. My internal clock told me it was early¡ªnot yet seven.

    I¡¯d just managed to push myself into a sitting position when the door opened, revealing Oscar Porter with his medical bag.

    "Good morning, Mr. Murphy," he greeted me with professional detachment. "Time to check those stitches."

    I said nothing as he approached the bed and began unwrapping the bandages. His hands were skilled but not gentle applying just enough pressure to be ufortable without being painful.

    "The wound is healing nicely," hemented, inspecting his handiwork. "No signs of infection. You¡¯re lucky it wasn¡¯t deeper."

    "Luck had nothing to do with it," I replied.

    Oscar¡¯s eyes flicked up to mine, assessing. He seemed about to respond when footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Anna appeared in the doorway.

    She hesitated at the threshold, her gaze sliding to my exposed abdomen before quickly averting to Oscar¡¯s face.

    "Uncle Marcus," she said. "I see Walker has left?"

    "Yes," I confirmed. "He couldn¡¯t stand being in the same clothes for more than eight hours."

    A flicker of something-amusement, perhaps crossed her features before she sobered again, her brow creasing with concern. "I just realized we don¡¯t have any clothes for you here." She twisted her hands slightly, a rare disy of uncertainty. "I could ask Rachel to purchase some essentials?"

    "That won¡¯t be necessary," I told her. "Peter will handle it."

    Oscar finished applying fresh bandages with a final, slightly aggressive pat to my abdomen. "There. All done." He packed his supplies back into his bag with quick, efficient movements. "The wound is superficial-just a clean slice through the abdominal wall. I¡¯ve seen C-sections more traumatic than this."

    He turned to Anna, his expression softening slightly. "He¡¯ll be fine, Annie. No need to wear that worried

    expression."

    Then, with a sideways nce at me that could only be described as challenging: "Though I wonder if Mr.

    Murphy here is nning on making this vi his permanent residence? "

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I watched Oscar¡¯s mouth-that perpetually moving instrument that never seemed to stop¡ªand thought to myself that if he ever got punched one day, it would definitely be because of that troublesome thing.

    "You¡¯re talking nonsense. Marcus just doesn¡¯t want William to worry," I countered, even asplicated emotions surged within me.

    I hurriedly pushed Oscar toward the door, not even offering him breakfast.

    My agitation made it impossible to tolerate his lengthy sermons any longer. "Alright, alright, you can go now. No need toe back unless there¡¯s an emergency, and remember to keep your mouth shut."

    Oscar looked annoyed as he reached out and pinched my cheek. His eyes brimmed with dissatisfaction.

    "Throwing me under the bus now, are we? Consultation fee, surgical fee, medication fee, hush money-who¡¯s going to settle up? You or your *Uncle Marcus*?"

    "Fine, fine, fine." Guilt washed over me; he had genuinely helped usst night. I immediately pulled out my phone and transferred him money, hoping this would silence him. "There, satisfied? Now get out."

    Oscar finally shed a pleased smile, but at the doorway, he turned back and lowered his voice: "Keep your distance from that Marcus. If nothing else, his business is all in Europe. Are you going to abandon Shaw Corp to follow him there?"

    His words made my chest tighten.

    What was he even talking about? I didn¡¯t have those kinds of feelings for Marcus-at least, that¡¯s what I kept telling myself. I knew Oscar was concerned about me, afraid I¡¯d get hurt again, so I forced myself to respond patiently: "You¡¯re overthinking this.

    I¡¯m not looking to get involved with anyone right now, okay? I swear on my life."

    "That¡¯s more like it." Oscar nodded, then suddenly remembered something and pulled an object from his pocket, tossing it to me. "Saw this, thought it looked nice, so I bought it."

    I caught it and looked¡ªa remarkably elegant diamond bracelet. From the casual way he¡¯d tossed it, I¡¯d half expected a random pebble he¡¯d picked up. My heart warmed at the unexpected gesture.

    "This is a luxury item, and you didn¡¯t even keep the packaging?" Despite my teasingint, the joy of receiving the gift made me smile. "I love it. Thanks."

    "Whatever," Oscar dramatically rolled his eyes and turned to leave. "Only useful when you need me, forgotten when you don¡¯t."

    After watching him leave, Rosa Vi suddenly felt quiet. I held the bracelet, my emotions conflicted. Marcus¡¯s return had left me uncertain how to behave. I was trying hard to maintain a polite distance, but somewhere deep inside, indefinable feelings stirred.

    Not long after, Marcus emerged, freshly washed. When I saw therge hole cut in his shirt, I couldn¡¯t help but smile. Last night, to treat his wound, Oscar had to cut open his clothes. Yet he seemedpletely unfazed by it, his ease making me feel almost embarrassed for finding it amusing.

    We ate the breakfast Rachel had bought. At the table, I tried to maintain a polite distance. "Uncle Marcus, the cook will be hereter. I¡¯ve already briefed her. She doesn¡¯t know your identity-just tell her whatever you¡¯d like to eat. I have a meeting this morning, so I can¡¯t stay home to keep youpany."

    "Alright," he replied simply.

    I sighed inwardly, pretending to be unfazed as I continued eating breakfast. I knew I was ying dumb, avoiding addressing his feelings for me.

 Chapter 32: The Cost of Proximity

    <h4>Chapter 32: The Cost of Proximity</h4>

    Jack¡¯s POV

    The moment I heard Marcus had been injured, something inside me snapped. It wasn¡¯t concern-not even close. Instead, a strange, almost feverish energy coursed through my veins as I instructed my driver to take me to Rosa Vi.

    The car pulled up to the gate, and I instructed the driver to wait. "I won¡¯t be long," I muttered, though I had no idea if that was true.

    As I walked up the curved driveway, the evening air felt unusually heavy.

    The gardens were immactely maintained, soft lighting illuminating the carefully pruned trees and shrubs.

    And then I saw him.

    Marcus Murphy¡ªmy uncle, my mother¡¯s brother, the Murphy family golden boy-was sittingfortably in the garden pavilion like he belonged there. Like he owned the ce. He looked surprisingly at ease for someone who¡¯d supposedly been injured. A booky open in hisp, and he was sipping what appeared to be tea from one of Anna¡¯s finest china cups.

    My blood boiled. Had Rosa Vi be Anna¡¯s secret ce to entertain men? And not just any man, but *Marcus*?

    His eyes flicked up, registering my approach with that same infuriating calm he always maintained. No surprise, no guilt, not even the courtesy of looking ufortable at being caught.

    "Jack," he greeted me, as if my arrival at my ex-wife¡¯s private vi was the most natural thing in the world.

    "I heard you were injured," I said coldly, not bothering with pleasantries. My gaze swept over him, searching for signs of physical distress but finding none. "You look perfectly fine to me."

    "A minor incident," he replied, closing his book and setting it aside.

    "Minor enough that you decided to recover here? At Anna¡¯s vi?" I couldn¡¯t keep the usation from my voice. "Do you realize your enemies have followed you to America? What were you thinking, bringing that kind of danger to her doorstep?"

    Marcus¡¯s expression remained impassive. "I have no intention of endangering Anna. And I prefer William doesn¡¯t worry unnecessarily."

    Iughed bitterly. "Since when do you care about sparing anyone worry?

    You¡¯ve always been perfectly happy to do exactly as you please, consequences be damned. Why the sudden concern?"

    "If you¡¯re so concerned about family," I pressed, "why not stay at Murphy Estate? Why here?"

    "If I didn¡¯t care about family," he replied, his voice dropping to a quieter register that somehow made his words more impactful, "Anna would have been mine six years ago."

    The statement hit me like a physical blow. I stood frozen, trying to process what he¡¯d just said. Six years ago?

    That would have been when...

    "My God," I whispered, pieces suddenly clicking into ce. "You¡¯ve beening back all this time for her, haven¡¯t you? Six years ago when her father died. During my marriage to her. And now, after our divorce."

    Memories cascaded through my mind ¡ªMarcus¡¯s rare appearances in Skyview City, always coinciding with significant moments in Anna¡¯s life.

    "How long?" I demanded, my voice barely controlled. "How long have you had feelings for her?"

    Marcus met my gaze directly. "Since before you even knew who she was."

    "It¡¯s over between you two, Jack," he continued, his tone matter-of-fact.

    "You can¡¯t make her happy. You never could. Don¡¯t forget¡ªyou¡¯re the one who threw her away."

    *You¡¯re the one who threw her away.* The words sliced through me, carrying the weight of undeniable truth. Images of Anna flooded my mind-not theposed businesswoman she¡¯d be, but the bright-eyed girl I¡¯d first met years ago.

    I remembered her at William¡¯s Christmas party, barely twenty,ughter spilling from her lips as she charmed everyone around her. Even Catherine, who typically viewed other women aspetition, had immediately taken to Anna, dering them "best friends" by the end of the night.

    Back then, she¡¯d called me "Mr. Simpson" with such careful politeness, her eyes briefly meeting mine before shyly looking away.

    And then the unthinkable happened¡ª her father died in a car ident. I remembered the funeral, watching this young woman stand straight-backed despite her grief, handling the arrangements with quiet dignity while her mother and grandmother copsed under the weight of their loss.

    Everyone had been so focused on consoling Elizabeth and Margaret that they¡¯d forgotten the most tragic part-Anna had been in that car too. She had watched her father die in her arms. William had been the one to step in, using his influence to shield her from predatory investors circling Shaw Corp like vultures.

    Our rtionship had begun so innocently. At Phillip Murphy¡¯s birthday celebration, I¡¯d found her alone on the terrace, staring into the distance with such profound sadness that I¡¯d feltpelled to offerfort.

    After that night, I¡¯d made excuses to have Catherine include Anna in more social events, telling myself I was merely helping a family friend.

    I¡¯d watched her navigate the treacherous waters of Skyview City¡¯s business elite, facing thinly veiled sexism with remarkable grace. When older executives attempted to intimidate her during negotiations, I¡¯d sometimes intervene, earning looks of gratitude that gradually transformed into something warmer, something that made my heart race despite myself.

    William had seen it happening before I was willing to admit it. "Jack," he¡¯d said one evening, "Annie would make you an excellent wife."

    I¡¯d protested vigorously. "She¡¯s like a sister to me!"

    But William had been persistent, and my resistance had gradually crumbled.

    After marriage, I¡¯d been deliberately cold, punishing her for feelings I couldn¡¯t acknowledge even to myself.

    I¡¯d stayed outte, ignored her attempts at conversation, found fault with everything she did.

    Phoenix had been her peace offering-a project she¡¯d poured her heart into, designed specifically to bring our families closer. When my mother had suggested giving management of the project to Lucy, I hadn¡¯t just failed to object; I¡¯d actively facilitated the handover, watching the hurt bloom in Anna¡¯s eyes with detached satisfaction.

    Marcus was right. *I* had thrown her away. I had taken a woman who once looked at me with nothing but love and systematically crushed her spirit until divorce seemed like her only escape.

    I don¡¯t remember leaving Rosa Vi.

    When I came back to myself, I was sitting in my car outside Shaw Tower, with no clear memory of instructing my driver to bring me here. How long had I been waiting? Minutes? Hours?

    "Mr. Simpson?" My driver¡¯s voice prated the fog of my thoughts.

    Shall I make a dinner reservation?

    Perhaps Ms. Shaw would join you?"

    I didn¡¯t answer, my attention caught by the revolving doors of the tower.

    And there she was-Anna, emerging from the building in conversation with Rachel, her ever-present assistant.

    A painful pressure built in my chest as I watched her. "Follow her," I instructed my driver, my voice sounding strange even to my own ears.

    My phone rang-Lucy¡¯s name shing on the screen. I silenced it without a second thought.

    "Mr. Simpson," my driver reminded me hesitantly, "you have dinner ns with your mother and Ms. Taylor tonight. Should I head to the restaurant now?"

    Something inside me snapped. "Why would I care about having dinner with *Lucy*?" I shouted, startling even myself with the force of my outburst.

    "NOT GOING!"

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I canceled my evening obligations, feigning exhaustion from back-to-back meetings. The truth was, I couldn¡¯t stop thinking about Marcus recovering at Rosa Vi. Leaving an injured houseguest alone all day, even one as self-sufficient as Marcus Murphy, didn¡¯t sit right with me.

    The Shaw Tower elevator felt particrly slow today as I anxiously checked my watch. The meetings had run longer than expected, and I was only now getting a chance to check my personal phone.

    My stomach dropped when I saw the screen. Multiple missed calls-Oscar, Logan, my mother, and several from Catherine. This many calls from different people within hours of each other never meant anything good.

    I was about to call Catherine back when my phone lit up with her name.

    I braced myself and answered.

    "Anna! Is it true? Uncle Marcus is injured? And he¡¯s staying at your ce?" Her voice burst through before I could even say hello, breathless with excitement.

    I froze mid-stride, nearly colliding with Rachel who was walking beside me.

    "Where did you hear that?" I kept my voice perfectly neutral, motioning Rachel to give me some privacy.

    "From my parents! Everyone¡¯s talking about it." Catherine¡¯s words tumbled out in a rush. "They¡¯re saying Uncle Marcus was stabbed and you¡¯re personally nursing him back to health at Rosa Vi."

    A cold feeling spread through my chest. Last night¡¯s incident had been witnessed by very few people. Joseph would never talk, and Oscar, for all his irreverence, could be trusted with secrets that mattered.

    "You won¡¯t believe this," Catherine continued, barely pausing for breath, "Aunt Mary stormed back to Murphy Estate today, but Dad stopped her from making a scene. I think Grandpa William is the only one who doesn¡¯t know about the injury yet, but literally everyone else does."

    *How the hell did this information get out?* My mind raced through possibilities, each more troubling than thest.

    "So you ARE with my uncle? What¡¯s going on, Anna?" The excitement in Catherine¡¯s voice was unmistakable.

    "Are you seriously considering bing my aunt? I¡¯m totally fine with it, by the way. If you marry into the Murphy family, Grandpa William and I would make sure nobody messes with you. Think about it, okay?"

    I nearly choked at her casual matchmaking. Before I could respond, she barreled on.

    "By the way, you probably haven¡¯t heard what people are saying about you two. These gossips should be writing romance novels-they ve turned you, Jack, and my uncle into some scandalous love triangle straight out of a drama series!"

    I leaned against the wall, suddenly feeling exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with my day of meetings. One day. I¡¯d been gone from Rosa Vi for *one day*, and somehow the entire social elite of Skyview City was specting about my love life.

    "Catherine, I need to go. I¡¯ll call you backter." I ended the call before she could protest.

    By the time I arrived at Rosa Vi, dinner had been prepared and Marcus was already seated at the table. He wore casual clothes that somehow still managed to look expensive and tailored on his frame. Despite his injury, his posture remained impable.

    "Uncle Marcus, how did word of your injury get out?" I asked, keeping my voice carefully controlled. "I assure you, neither Oscar nor I said anything to anyone."

    "I know it wasn¡¯t you." His response was immediate and certain.

    I paused, reconsidering the possibilities. "It probably wasn¡¯t Jack either, and I doubt he had anything to do with your injury."

    Marcus¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied me. "Why are you so certain?"

    A bitter smile tugged at my lips. "He was my husband, after all. I¡¯d like to think I know what kind of person he is." The words brought with them a strange ache-the remnants of what had once been love now transformed into something more like detached understanding.

    Marcus held my gaze for a beat longer than necessary, the intensity in his eyes making my pulse quicken. Then he gestured toward the dining room. "The rumors were deliberately spread.

    Someone is setting up a scenario involving you, me, and Jack." He waited for me to take my seat before continuing. "If my guess is correct, this is about the Skke District development. Simpson Group is determined to secure thatnd, but I¡¯m not entirely sure who¡¯s behind this particr move."

    "Skke District?" I hadn¡¯t expected our conversation to turn in this direction.

    "I¡¯ve had people look into it," he exined. "The eastern part of Skyview City is ted for major development next, making the Skke District prime real estate. Simpson Group seems to be taking the lead on this." His expression softened slightly.

    "Now that your mother¡¯s family mansion is back in your hands, you ve been dragged into this as well. I¡¯m sorry for bringing this trouble to your doorstep."

    The hint of regret in his voice touched something in me. I hurried to reassure him. "You haven¡¯t caused me any trouble. I was nning to buy back that mansion anyway. If anything, I should be thanking you, Uncle Marcus." I couldn¡¯t keep the edge from my voice as I added, "If Jack had gotten his hands on it, there wouldn¡¯t be a single brick left standing."

    My mind was already racing ahead, calcting angles and opportunities.

    Skke District was partially protected wends, but the developable areas were substantial. High-end residences marketing their proximity to a nature preserve wouldmand premium prices. The property values alone would skyrocket once development began.

    *No wonder Jack was so desperate to acquire my mother¡¯s ancestral home.*

    The realization made me grateful all over again for Marcus¡¯s intervention at the auction- even if epting such a gift still made me ufortable.

    "What are your thoughts on Skke District?" Marcus asked, watching me closely.

    I decided to bepletely transparent.

    "I hadn¡¯t given much thought to Skke before, as you know, Shaw Corp doesn¡¯t have the resources for a project that size." The admission stung my pride, but there was no point pretending otherwise. "But now the situation is forcing my hand¡ªif I want to protect my mother¡¯s ancestral home, I need to secure this project." I straightened my shoulders, a surge of determination flooding through me.

    "I¡¯ve already formed a project team.

    I¡¯m definitely going topete for Skke."

    Discussing business brought me back to familiar territory, confidence recing the uncertainty I¡¯d felt earlier.

    He nodded approvingly. "Impressive.

    You have vision and courage. If you need any assistance, don¡¯t hesitate to ask."

    His ready support caught me off guard. "You think I can seed?"

    "Why wouldn¡¯t you? If you have the courage to pursue it, you¡¯ll seed." His conviction was unwavering, his faith in me absolute.

    I felt something expand in my chest at his words. The Skke project team had been an impulsive decision, born more from emotion than strategy. In the cold light of day, I¡¯d realized that Shaw Corp attempting to secure Skke was like a fox trying to steal from a wolf pack.

    Yet here was Marcus Murphy, believing in me without reservation.

    "I believe I can do it too. How will I know what I¡¯m capable of if I don¡¯t try, right?" I raised my ss to him, feeling almost light-headed with possibility. "Uncle Marcus, I have to thank you again. You¡¯ve been a true blessing in my life."

 Chapter 33: The Woman with the Leverage

    <h4>Chapter 33: The Woman with the Leverage</h4>

    Jack¡¯s POV

    I was nursing a drink in the study when my mother and Lucy burst through the front door of the Simpson mansion. Their faces were flushed, their gestures animated as they exchanged heated whispers. I knew instantly that the afternoon tea at Harper Watson¡¯s hadn¡¯t gone well.

    Mother spotted me and made a beeline in my direction, her eyes shing with indignation. "Can you believe the nerve of that woman?"

    I didn¡¯t need to ask which woman she meant. There was only one who could ruffle my mother¡¯s feathers to this degree.

    "Anna?" I asked, setting down my ss.

    Mother copsed into an armchair, her voice rising with each word. "She¡¯s deliberately positioning herself as the gatekeeper to Skke District.

    Everyone was falling over themselves trying to secure her favor." She shot a withering nce at Lucy. "And you just stood there, letting her make a fool of you."

    Lucy¡¯sposure faltered. "I tried to put her in her ce, but she turned my words against me."

    "You weren¡¯t assertive enough!"

    Mother snapped. "She made you look like a social-climbing fool in front of everyone who matters in this city."

    I watched the exchange with a growing sense of unease. My mother had never approved of Anna, even during our marriage. But her vehemence now seemed excessive, even for her.

    "Mary, that¡¯s enough," my father¡¯s voice cut through the tension as he entered the room. "What¡¯s all thismotion about?"

    Mother immediately redirected her ire.

    "George, that Shaw woman is trying to get her hands on the Skke District project." Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "She¡¯s going around boasting that Shaw Corp is prepared to bid against Simpson Group."

    I felt my stomach drop. "Anna is interested in Skke District? Are you sure you didn¡¯t misunderstand?"

    "I didn¡¯t misunderstand anything," she hissed. "She was practically gloating about it. That mansion Marcus gave her is the perfect foothold. She¡¯s been nning this all along."

    Father¡¯s expression grew serious as he took a seat across from me. "If Shaw Corp intends topete for Skke, we need to reconsider our approach.

    Their stock has been performing surprisingly welltely, and with that historic property in their possession.." He trailed off, his fingers drumming against the armrest.

    "We could try to bring them in as a minor partner," he continued thoughtfully. "Neutralize them aspetition while still maintaining control of the project."

    He looked directly at me. "Jack, this would be your responsibility. You know Anna better than anyone.

    Approach her, see if Shaw Corp would be amenable to a partnership on favorable terms."

    I nodded mechanically, my mind already racing.

    "T¡¯ll handle it," I said, rising to my feet.

    "T¡¯ll go see her tonight."

    Lucy¡¯s hand caught my wrist.

    "Tonight? Jack, it¡¯s already gettingte."

    I pulled away without looking at her.

    "The sooner we address this, the better."

    Minutester, I was in my car, directing my driver toward Shaw Estate. The rational part of my brain knew this was a business errand, nothing more.

    My phone vibrated insistently. Lucy again. I silenced it without looking, unwilling to be distracted.

    The car pulled to a stop in the circr driveway. As I stepped out, I noticed only a few lights illuminating the ground floor. It waster than I¡¯d realized. Perhaps this wasn¡¯t the best time for a business discussion after all.

    But before I could reconsider, the front door opened, spilling warm light onto the steps. Anna stood in the doorway, her silhouette perfectly outlined against the glow from within.

    "Mr. Simpson," she greeted me, her voice cool and controlled. "What a surprise."

    I straightened my tie, "Anna. I apologize for thete visit. May Ie in? It¡¯s about a business matter."

    She hesitated, then stepped aside, allowing me to enter.

    "I¡¯m afraid my mother and grandmother have already retired for the evening," she said, leading me into the living room. "Would you like some tea? Or perhaps something stronger?"

    "No, thank you," I declined, taking a seat on the sofa. "This won¡¯t take long."

    She remained standing, arms crossed, regarding me with that guarded expression I¡¯d grown to recognize in thetter days of our marriage.

    The silence between us stretched ufortably. I cleared my throat.

    "I understand you¡¯ve expressed interest in the Skke District development project."

    "News travels fast," she remarked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

    "My mother and Lucy attended Harper¡¯s tea," I exined.

    "Ah, that exins it." Her lips curved in a smile that didn¡¯t reach her eyes.

    "Mr. Simpson, could I ask you a favor?"

    The unexpected question caught me off guard. "What is it?"

    "Could you please stop showing up at my home unannounced? People might get the wrong idea."

    Her words stung more than they should have. "What people? Your Uncle Marcus?"

    A sh of something-annoyance, perhaps-crossed her features before she regained herposure. She ignored my jab and took a seat across from me, smoothing her skirt with practiced grace.

    "I heard you¡¯re interested in Skke District," I said, bringing the conversation back to business.

    "Yes, I am," she replied simply. "Is that why you¡¯re here? To confirm rumors?"

    I leaned forward, struggling to maintain my professional demeanor.

    "Is it true that Shaw Corp ns to bid on the development project?"

    "And if it is?" Her eyebrow arched in challenge.

    The confirmation sent a jolt of both rm and inexplicable anger through me. "You¡¯re seriously going after Skke District? Anna, do you have any idea what you¡¯re getting yourself into?"

    She tilted her head, studying me with those perceptive eyes. "I believe I do.

    Why does that concern you?"

    "Because it¡¯s not a game," I snapped, my facade of calm business discussion crumbling rapidly. "You think you can just waltz into major property development with Shaw Corp¡¯s resources? You¡¯re out of your depth."

    "Do you have any idea how many powerful interests are eyeing Skke?"

    I continued, frustration rising in my chest. "Just because you happen to own one historic property there doesn¡¯t mean you can handle a project of this magnitude. You¡¯ll be eaten alive."

    Anna¡¯s eyes narrowed. "Are you finished? Because if you came here just to insult me, you can leave now."

    "I¡¯m not insulting you, damn it. I¡¯m trying to warn you!" The words burst from me with more emotion than I¡¯d intended. "Anna, you have no idea what you¡¯re walking into. The development sector isn¡¯t like manufacturing or research. It¡¯s cutthroat in ways you can¡¯t imagine."

    "Warn me?" Sheughed, a cold, sharp sound that made me wince. "That¡¯s rich. Since when do you care what happens to me or Shaw Corp?"

    "Anna," I tried again, moderating my tone. "I¡¯m here representing Simpson Group. My father believes it might be beneficial for both ourpanies to coborate on this project, rather thanpete."

    She rose to her feet in one fluid motion. "Was there anything else you wanted to discuss, Mr. Simpson?"

    I stood as well, frustration building to a dangerous level. "You know what?

    You¡¯ve always been stubborn to the point of self-destruction. Just because you own that mansion now doesn¡¯t make you qualified to handle Skke District."

    "You¡¯re not here out of concern," she countered, her voice losing its polite veneer. "You¡¯re here because you¡¯re worried Simpson Group might face actualpetition."

    "Competition?" I scoffed, moving closer to her. "You think Shaw Corp ispetition for us? Don¡¯t be naive, Anna. You¡¯re not in our league."

    "Is that so?" Her eyes shed dangerously. "Then why are you here, practically begging for a partnership? "

    She held my gaze unflinchingly. "You never respected me, Jack. Not as your wife, and certainly not as a businesspetitor. That hasn¡¯t changed."

    "That¡¯s not true," I protested, though even to my own ears, it sounded weak.

    She insisted. "But it doesn¡¯t matter anymore. I¡¯m not going to sell my mother¡¯s childhood home to Simpson Group, and I¡¯m certainly not going to back down from Skke District."

    Anna¡¯s POV

    The evening sky had already darkened by the time my car pulled up to Shaw Estate.

    Yet as I pushed open the front door, I found my mother and grandmother both seated in the living room, their postures rigid with tension.

    Mother sat with her back perfectly straight, a tea cup bnced delicately in her hands, though judging by the full cup, she hadn¡¯t actually been drinking it. Beside her, Grandmother maintained her customary elegance, but the worried crease between her brows betrayed her concern. They both looked up as I entered, relief washing over their faces.

    "I¡¯m sorry. The meeting ran longer than expected." I leaned down to kiss her cheek, then did the same for Grandmother. "Have you both been sitting here waiting all this time?"

    Mother¡¯s hand caught mine, her grip surprisingly firm as she pulled me down to sit beside her.

    "Annie," she began, her voice soft but determined, "we¡¯ve been talking, your grandmother and I..."

    I braced myself. That particr tone never preceded anything good.

    "Maybe... maybe you should consider selling that mansion, Annie," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "Buildings are just structures, but people-you¡ªare irreceable. I don¡¯t want to see you in danger because of a property. Your grandfather would never want us to cling to bricks and mortar at the expense of your safety. Your wellbeing is more important than anything else."

    I heard the slight tremor in her voice, saw the tears glistening in her eyes.

    For her to suggest selling her childhood home the ce filled with her happiest memories, the mansion she¡¯d spent hours describing to me in vivid detail throughout my childhood ¡ªshe must truly be terrified for my safety.

    "Your mother is right," Grandmother added, her aged voice firm despite its quaver. "If the city is nning to develop the Skke District, it will inevitably be a focal point forpeting interests. Annie, people are what matter most to our family. By owning that historical building, you now hold a key resource, which makes you a target."

    I drew a deep breath, my decision already crystallized in my mind. This mansion wasn¡¯t just our family¡¯s foundation; it was my opportunity to elevate Shaw Corp to new heights. I couldn¡¯t abandon it¡ªI wouldn¡¯t.

    "Mom, Grandmother, please don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll handle this properly." I squeezed Mother¡¯s hand reassuringly.

    "As for Marcus, there¡¯s no need for concern. All those rumors... perhaps you could pay attention to people¡¯s reactions at social events."

    I deliberately kept my tone light and confident, not wanting to add to their anxiety. But Mother¡¯s furrowed brow told me she remained unconvinced.

    "Harper Watson has organized an afternoon tea, "she said, reaching for an elegantly embossed invitation on the side table. "Perhaps you could apany me?"

    I nodded, both to cate her and to gather intelligence on the current situation. Social events were battlefields of a different sort-ones where information flowed as freely as champagne.

    "Of course. It would be my pleasure."

    The moment we entered Harper Watson¡¯s sunlit tea room, the subtle shift in atmosphere was unmistakable.

    Conversations paused briefly before resuming with renewed vigor¡ªa sure sign that I had be today¡¯s hot topic. I straightened my spine, linked my arm gracefully through Mother¡¯s, and acknowledged familiar faces with polite nods.

    Catherine practically barreled toward me, concern etched across her features.

    "Anna, what are you doing here?" she whispered urgently. "Don¡¯t you realize you¡¯re the talk of Skyview City right now? Coming here is just asking to be the subject of their gossip."

    Warmth spread through my chest at my friend¡¯s protective instinct. "What¡¯s so frightening about being gossiped about? I¡¯m curious to hear what they¡¯re saying."

    I kept my tone deliberately casual, though I¡¯d mentally prepared for battle the moment I¡¯d epted the invitation.

    "They won¡¯t gossip to your face," Catherine muttered, leaning closer.

    "Everyone knows your family now owns that mansion in Skke. If anyone wants development rights in the Skke District, they¡¯ll need to go through you first."

    There was a hint of satisfaction and schadenfreude in her voice as she continued: "Mary is absolutely furious with my uncle. Isn¡¯t it ironic? When Jack¡¯s family received inside

    information, they didn¡¯t share it with the Murphy family either. Serves them right for trying to monopolize the project."

    She patted my shoulder, her eyes sparkling with encouragement. "She used to look down on you. Now you need to stand tall and make her realize she can¡¯t reach your level."

    I couldn¡¯t help smiling at Catherine¡¯s characteristic bluntness and loyalty.

    Her straightforward nature always had a way of lifting my spirits.

    "Here shees, wearing that fake mask of hers," Catherine warned under her breath.

    Following her gaze, I spotted Lucy approaching, her lips curved in a practiced smile. I steeled myself internally.

    "Anna, you¡¯re here too?" Lucy¡¯s voice dripped with artificial sweetness, but the barb in her words was unmistakable. "You¡¯re so busy, I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d join us idledies for afternoon tea."

    I inwardly smirked. Since she was initiating the challenge, why should I hold back?

    "Ms. Taylor, do you understand the nature of high society gatherings?" I deliberately raised my voice to ensure the surrounding women could hear.

    "How could you refer to thesedies as ¡¯idle¡¯? Harper has always been a supportive partner to business elites and a role model for us all. I came specifically today to learn from her."

    I felt a flicker of satisfaction watching Lucy¡¯s smile freeze on her face. In these social skirmishes, I refused to yield an inch.

    "Our Anna always knows exactly what to say," Harper Watson interjected smoothly, sping my hand warmly. "I simply enjoy gathering with friends.

    It¡¯s my honor that everyone makes time to attend."

    Lucy stood awkwardly to the side, clearly defeated in this round.

    As the afternoon progressed, I navigated the gathering with practiced ease while keenly observing each person¡¯s true intentions and underlying interests. I noticed how every woman¡¯s gaze held a new assessment when they looked at me no longer Jack Simpson¡¯s ex-wife, but the holder of a valuable Skke District asset.

    "Anna," Harper eventually approached during a rtively private moment, revealing her true agenda, "I hear the city is nning to develop the Skke District. Does Shaw Corp have any ns? If you¡¯re making a move, perhaps the Watson family could have the privilege of participating?"

 Chapter 34: Power Isnâ€™t Given

    <h4>Chapter 34: Power Isn¡¯t Given</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    The more he underestimated me, the more determined I became to pursue the Skke District project. His condescension had only crystallized what I already knew:we were never meant to walk the same path.

    Back at the office the next morning, I found my mother had forwarded me a flurry of emails and texts. Just as I¡¯d anticipated, invitations had been pouring in¡ªall of them conspicuously addressed only to her and me. Some requested our presence for afternoon tea, others for dinner gatherings. One socialite from the arts circle had even sent show tickets.

    "Annie," my mother¡¯s voice was tentative when she called mid-morning, "I¡¯ve never seen so many invitations. It¡¯s rather overwhelming."

    I smiled grimly. "The Shaw family suddenly has excellent social currency, it seems."

    "What should I do?" she asked.

    I replied. "I¡¯ll look through the listter and decide which ones are worth our time."

    After ending the call, I stared at the growing pile of invitations on my desk. The Skke District project had elevated our family¡¯s status overnight.

    People who had once whispered behind our backs were now eager to curry favor.

    An idea began forming in my mind, taking shape with surprising rity.

    Almost unconsciously, I found myself driving toward Rosa Vi that afternoon. It wasn¡¯t until I spotted Marcus sitting on the terrace that the realization hit me: why had I instinctivelye to him for counsel?

    Thinking about it logically, there really wasn¡¯t anyone else suitable. My grandmother and mother, while intelligent and resilient, were out of their depth in modern corporate warfare. William was too elderly to burden with such matters, and more importantly, he was Jack¡¯s grandfather -asking him to help mepete against his own grandson would be inappropriate. As for Marcus...

    I sighed inwardly, not denying there was an element of exploitation in my seeking his help. But as long as he didn¡¯t explicitly mention his feelings for me, I would be willing to do whatever he asked of me. *Within reason, of course.*

    I hesitated at the entrance, debating whether I should proceed, when Rachel¡¯s voice broke through my thoughts.

    "Ms. Shaw, Mr. Murphy has already seen you."

    Taking a deep breath, I decided that since I was already here, I might as well continue to leverage his assistance.

    I put on my most charming, most attractive smile.

    "Uncle Marcus, I brought you chicken soup."

    The soup had been specially prepared by my chef, filled with premium ingredients selected for their healing properties. After Rachel brought a bowl, I personallydled a portion for Marcus, feeling somewhat guilty but feigning concern.

    "Uncle Marcus, how¡¯s your injury? I¡¯ve been so busy I haven¡¯t had a chance to check on you."

    Marcus observed me quietly, seemingly waiting for the next act in my performance. I enthusiastically continued, "Please try the soup, Uncle Marcus. It contains herbs that help your body."

    He took a sip, responding simply,

    "That¡¯s thoughtful of you."

    "It¡¯s the least I could do." Seeing him drink the soup, I finally revealed my purpose. "Uncle Marcus, I¡¯d like your advice on something."

    He gave me a level look, as if he had already seen through my intentions.

    "Go ahead."

    I exined about the flood of family invitations we¡¯d received, then said earnestly, "You know Shaw Corp is nowhere near the scale of Simpson Group. If I want topete for Skke District, I¡¯ll need allies."

    Marcus cut straight to the point.

    "Murphy Global hasn¡¯t been involved in real estate development in recent years. I¡¯m afraid Skke District might not interest them."

    I¡¯d considered this possibility but wanted to try anyway. "But Skke has natural advantages. If developed properly, it would certainly be profitable. Might your brother reconsider?"

    He finished the soup in a few quick sips, then countered with a question of his own. "Have you considered that if Murphy Global agreed to work with you, would you still maintain control?"

    I froze. I had thought about this on my way here, but too simplistically. I¡¯d forgotten that Phillip Murphy was a highly sessful businessman-if Murphy Global truly became interested in Skke, why would they let someone else take the lion¡¯s share?

    They could easily monopolize the entire Skke District, just like Simpson Group had tried to do. Like with the Phoenix Project¡ªbecause Simpson Group was more powerful than Shaw Corp, Jack had brought Lucy in, and I couldn¡¯t refuse.

    Seeing my serious expression, Marcus continued, "You can forget about my brother, but as for me, you might want to consider my offer."

    I was stunned, hardly believing what I was hearing. "Uncle Marcus, what-what do you mean?"

    He poured himself a cup of tea, saying calmly, "William is getting old. I¡¯m nning to gradually shift my business operations back to America.

    Skke District could be my first investment here."

    I eximed, "You mean you want to invest in Skke District?"

    He looked directly at me. "So I¡¯m telling you-go for it. You¡¯ll seed.

    Your Uncle Marcus has plenty of money."

    I felt my adrenaline surge, my heart beating faster. This man really knew how to apply pressure, targeting my vulnerability with almost surgical precision. Indeed, what Shaw Corpcked was capital. But such an arrangement would entangle me more deeply with Marcus Murphy.

    I inwardlyughed coldly: *He likes to use William as a shield.* If he were truly that filial, all these years it wouldn¡¯t have always been William flying back and forth to see his son.

    No wonder he had been so supportive of me¡ªhe had probably anticipated I woulde seeking help today.

    Coming back to myself, I forced a casualugh. "Ha ha, Uncle Marcus, you must be joking. Your business empire is entirely overseas¡ªa small project like Skke District hardly seems worth your attention."

    I thought to myself: *Do I really have enough allure to make Marcus Murphy abandon his international business and return to America? That¡¯s absurd.* While I had confidence in my attractiveness, I wasn¡¯t blindly self-assured. Besides, sacrificing myself for the Skke project? I wasn¡¯t that foolish.

    Marcus seemed to see through my thoughts, saying unhurriedly, "I¡¯m just giving you something to think about.

    You can go back and consider it carefully."

    Remembering something, he emphasized, "Rest assured, regarding Skke District, we¡¯re only discussing business cooperation."

    Marcus¡¯s POV

    I watched Anna¡¯s retreating figure as she practically fled Rosa Vi, herposed exterior betrayed by the hastiness of her departure.

    Once her car disappeared down the driveway, I turned to Peter who stood silently nearby, awaiting instructions.

    "You think she¡¯ll be back tomorrow?" asked casually, though I already knew the answer.

    Peter considered the question carefully.

    "I doubt it, sir. You made your position quite clear, and Ms. Shaw seemed... unsettled by the conversation."

    A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. "Actually, I¡¯m betting Anna goes straight to Murphy Estate from here."

    Peter¡¯s eyebrows rose slightly-the closest he ever came to expressing surprise. "After what you just told her?

    She seemed eager to leave, sir."

    "That¡¯s exactly why," I said, leaning back in my chair. "Anna Shaw doesn¡¯t retreat; she regroups and counterattacks. It¡¯s in her nature."

    I sipped my tea, contemting theplex woman who had upied my thoughts for so long.

    "She won¡¯t believe what I¡¯ve told her without testing it herself," I continued.

    "She needs to see the rejection with her own eyes before she¡¯ll truly ept it."

    Peter nodded, his expression carefully neutral.

    Half an hourter, Peter¡¯s phone rang.

    I watched as he answered it, listened intently, then nced at me with a look of barely concealed surprise.

    "Thank you for the information," he said before ending the call and turning to me. "Mr. Murphy, you were right.

    Ms. Shaw just arrived at Murphy Estate. She went there directly after leaving here."

    I continued typing an email, my fingers never pausing on the keyboard.

    "She¡¯s predictable in her unpredictability," I replied, allowing myself a small smile of satisfaction.

    "That¡¯s her nature-she needs to verify everything personally, especially information that contradicts what she wants to believe."

    "What¡¯s the status of our investigation?" I asked, deliberately changing the subject.

    Peter¡¯s tone immediately shifted, professionalism masking his earlier surprise. "I apologize, Mr.Murphy, but we¡¯re facing significant constraints in Sky-view City. Our team can¡¯t operate with the same freedom we have in Europe. We¡¯ve confirmed Mr. Simpson returned to Moonlight Cove after the incident, but we couldn¡¯t track his movements or contacts once he entered themunity. The security there is... substantial."

    I processed this information silently.

    The pieces were aligning exactly as I¡¯d suspected.

    "If my assessment is correct, we¡¯ll see new developments soon," I said finally, my voice calm despite the gravity of the situation. "They¡¯ve made their first move. They¡¯ll be watching for our reaction before determining their next step."

    Anna¡¯s POV

    The drive to Murphy Estate had been impulsive. Marcus¡¯s offer to invest in Skke District seemed too convenient, too perfectly timed. I needed to verify his ims about Murphy Global¡¯sck of interest myself, directly from his brother. If Phillip Murphy confirmed what Marcus had said, I¡¯d be forced to reconsider my options.

    Now, sitting across from Phillip in his meticulously organized study.

    "If Murphy Global were to enter Skke District," Phillip said, leaning forward in his leather chair, "our share would have to be at least eighty percent." His tone was friendly, but his words cut through my hopes like a de. "Anna, you¡¯re a young person I greatly admire, so let¡¯s set everything else aside¡ªyou should understand this isn¡¯t me taking advantage of you. And if I partner with you, I¡¯d inevitably offend the Simpson family, which is something I must consider. Purely from a business perspective, I hope you won¡¯t take it personally."

    My chest tightened, but I maintained myposure. "I won¡¯t take it personally," I replied quickly, "thank you for being so candid with me. I understand." The words felt hollow in my mouth, a thin veneer over the bitter disappointment settling in my stomach.

    Phillip nodded, seemingly satisfied with my response. Then those weathered eyes-eyes that had witnessed decades of business triumphs and failures-fixed on me with unmistakable meaning. "You¡¯re a smart young woman. Let me be clear:

    Murphy Global has no interest in Skke District. Whoever you partner with, we have no objections."

    My heart skipped a beat, my expression sharpening involuntarily.

    This business veteran¡¯s perceptiveness was remarkable-had he already deduced I¡¯d juste from Marcus?

    More than that, his words carried implications beyond Marcus, possibly extending to the Simpson family. Was he subtly suggesting that regardless of whether I chose to work with Marcus or Jack Simpson, he wouldn¡¯t oppose it?

    Feeling heat rise to my cheeks, I struggled to maintain my poise.

    "Thank you for your advice. I won¡¯t take up any more of your time. I¡¯ll go find Catherine for a chat."

    I found Catherine in the garden pavilion, sprawledfortably across a chaise longue, scrolling through her phone with practiced disinterest. When she spotted me, her face lit up with genuine warmth.

    "The business talk is over already?

    That was quick," she remarked, patting the space beside her.

    "Your father made his position quite clear," I admitted, unable to keep the disappointment from my voice.

    Catherine sat up straighter, her eyes sparkling with sudden enthusiasm.

    "Girl, you go for it! I¡¯m totally supporting you. My aunt Mary has been looking down on you all this time, right? You need to show her what you¡¯re made of."

    The mention of Mary Simpson brought an unexpected smile to my face.

    Catherine and Mary¡¯s strained rtionship was well-known among those close to the family. Years ago, during Catherine¡¯s college days, she¡¯d secretly dated a young man¡ªa rtionship unknown to the Murphy family until Mary identally discovered it.

    Mary, who had been trying to match Catherine with a Simpson family nephew, was furious-more so than Catherine¡¯s own mother. After investigating and finding the boy¡¯s family was of modest means, Mary had gone to his parents¡¯ home and humiliated them. I never learned the full details, only that Catherine eventually broke up with the boy.

    Since then, she¡¯d lived freely and uninhibitedly, harboring not a shred of affection for her aunt Mary.

    "My father won¡¯t invest, but I will," Catherine dered, mentally calcting her resources. "I can put up two or three hundred million.

    Would that be enough?"

    Hearing that figure, a wave of bitterness washed over me. This heiress had hundreds of millions in idle funds while doing nothing, and here I was, having worked tirelessly for years with a worth nowhere near hers.

    "Don¡¯t be so quick to jump in," I said, forcing a casual tone. "Wait until I crack this Skke District tough nut, then I¡¯ll bring you aboard."

    Catherine grinned happily. "Then I¡¯ll just wait to ride your coattails!"

 Chapter 35: An Invitation Laced with Motives

    <h4>Chapter 35: An Invitation Laced with Motives</h4>

    Jack¡¯s POV

    The news that Anna Shaw had spent several hours at Murphy Estate spread through Skyview City¡¯s business circles with astonishing speed. umors in this city grew wings, particrly when they involved the Shaws and the Murphys.

    I sat in the grand living room of the Simpson mansion, watching my mother¡¯s face settle into that familiar expression of contempt that seemed permanently etched there whenever Anna¡¯s name was mentioned.

    "Phillip told me himself he has no interest in Skke District," my mother dered, her voice dripping with schadenfreude as she delicately stirred her tea. "Can you believe the audacity of that woman? Going to the Murphy family for help? Who does she think she is?"

    Herugh was brittle,cking any genuine humor. I remained silent, watching the steam rise from my untouched coffee on the table between us.

    "Jack." My father¡¯s authoritative voice yanked me back to reality. "Your uncle Phillip might not care about Skke, but don¡¯t forget, there¡¯s still your younger uncle Marcus."

    He leaned forward, "As for Anna, you need to figure something out. That historic mansion is in her hands now.

    Even if we secure the Skke project, it¡¯ll be nothing but trouble without her cooperation."

    I kept my silence, *Fix things with Anna?* We were practically strangers now, the bitter remnants of our marriage like a wall between us that grew taller with each passing day.

    "Perhaps I should have a talk with Elizabeth," my mother suggested suddenly, her thin lips curving into a smile that made my stomach tighten.

    "That woman has always been spineless. Easy to persuade."

    I was about to object when my father¡¯s expression turned cial as he regarded my mother. "Keep your meddling to yourself," he snapped. "If it weren¡¯t for your constant criticism of Anna, driving them to divorce..." He paused, gathering himself. "We wouldn¡¯t be in this position with Phoenix Project or Skke District if you hadn¡¯t pushed the Simpson family into this corner."

    The color drained from my mother¡¯s face, her shock at being openly rebuked in front of me evident in her widened eyes and parted lips. Clearly, she hadn¡¯t expected my father to cast me so directly.

    "George, how *dare* you me me?" she hissed, her voice trembling with indignation. "When have you ever involved yourself in family matters?

    When have you *ever* taken responsibility for anything beyond those spreadsheets and contracts of yours?"

    "Then focus on family matters and leavepany business alone," my father countered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

    I watched as understanding dawned across my mother¡¯s rigid features. Her eyes darted between us, suddenlyprehending that my father¡¯s anger stemmed from something deeper than just the Skkeplications. This was about the Murphy family-about Marcus specifically and the growing threat he represented to our business interests.

    "Jack," my father said abruptly, rising to his feet. "Come to my study. We need to talk."

    I silently stood and followed him.

    "Shaw Corp has no chance of securing Skke District on their own," my father began without preamble, settling into his chair. "Now that Phillip has rejected her, Anna will be looking for other allies."

    He pulled out a cigar but didn¡¯t light it, rolling it between his fingers thoughtfully. "Arrange a business dinner. There are certain people who need to be reminded where their loyalties should lie."

    I nodded slightly, my voice deliberately neutral. "Of course. I¡¯ll set it up immediately."

    My father fell silent for a moment, studying me with the same prating gaze he used to evaluate potential acquisitions. "Without allies, Anna has only one viable option for Skke partnership with Simpson Group."

    The implication hung heavy in the air as he gave me a meaningful look.

    "Don¡¯t worry," he continued, apparently reading my difort.

    "She won¡¯t partner with Marcus."

    He leaned back in his chair, suddenly looking more like the shrewd businessman who had expanded Simpson Group into what it was today.

    "She understands what cooperation with Marcus would mean. Anna¡¯s greatest vulnerabilities are Elizabeth, Margaret, and Shaw Corp. She won¡¯t abandon her family to follow Marcus to Europe."

    My father¡¯s assessment was coldly urate. Anna would never leave her grandmother and mother behind, nor would she relinquish control of thepany her father had entrusted to her.

    "Women," my father concluded with a dismissive wave, "can be easily persuaded with the right approach.

    Surely you haven¡¯t forgotten how to charm her?"

    I felt my brow furrow deeply, aplex mixture of emotions churning inside me.

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I first noticed it three days after my visit to the Murphy Estate. The usual flood of invitations had slowed to a trickle. My phone, which typically buzzed with social requests, remained suspiciously silent.

    Something was off.

    "Rachel," I called, setting down my cup. "Has there been a decrease in our social invitations this week?"

    Rachel looked up from her tablet, her expression carefully neutral. "I was wondering when you¡¯d notice. Yes, there¡¯s been a significant drop since Tuesday."

    "The day after we visited William." I frowned, connecting the dots. "That¡¯s not a coincidence."

    "Probably not," Rachel agreed. "And there¡¯s something else. Simpson Group is hosting a g next weekend.

    They ve invited practically everyone who matters in Skyview City."

    *My mother¡¯s neighborhood.* The realization hit like ice water. Jack knew exactly how much that property meant to my family. This wasn¡¯t just social maneuvering it was a direct attack.

    That evening, I¡¯d arranged to meet Oscar Porter at signature restaurant. I was looking forward to catching up with my old friend. What I hadn¡¯t expected was the tall figure standing beside him in the private dining room.

    Logan Porter.

    Oscar¡¯s older brother looked annoyingly impable in a tailored suit that highlighted his broad shoulders. I felt a flutter of that old nervousness seeing him again-the same feeling I¡¯d had years ago when he¡¯d tutored me in calculus with that stern, unforgiving demeanor.

    "Porter sir." I shot Oscar a death re, silently cursing him out. He could have at least warned me Logan would be here.

    "It¡¯s been a while," Logan said, his gaze lingering on me with an expression I couldn¡¯t quite decipher.

    "I¡¯m ¡¯Porter sir¡¯ now?"

    There was a hint of disapproval in his tone that made me even more ufortable. Thankfully, Oscar jumped in to diffuse the tension.

    "You¡¯re dressed like you¡¯re going to a wedding, of course she¡¯s going to be formal. You really needed to dress like this just to see Annie? Who are you trying to intimidate?" Oscar¡¯s teasing helped ease the tension.

    Logan shot Oscar a cold look before turning back to me. "Are you going to sit down? Or just stand there?"

    "Oh, right, Logan." I responded quickly, nervously choosing the seat next to Oscar, as if seeking some sort of protection.

    As the waiter presented the dishes we¡¯d pre-ordered, I realized we needed to add something for Logan¡¯s unexpected appearance. "Could we add a mushroom soup and the baked cod, please? Thank you," I told the server, remembering years of family dinners together. I knew the brothers¡¯ tastes too well.

    When Rachel came by to pour our tea, Oscar and I were already deep in animated conversation. He always had endless stories, sparing no one from his bitingmentary-from the head of the medical department to his assistants. I nodded along, trying to ignore Logan¡¯s scrutinizing gaze.

    "Ahem." Logan¡¯s sudden cough interrupted our conversation, his expression unusually serious. "Anna, did you receive an invitation from the Simpson family?"

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "No, I haven¡¯t," I shook my head in response to Logan¡¯s question about the Simpson invitation, then thought for a moment before asking, "Have you received one, Logan?"

    Logan nodded, his expression as measured as ever. "Yes, just today.

    From what I understand, not only have families close to the Simpsons like the Turners and Hills received invitations, but also the Watsons, Harrisons, and even the Fosters." His gaze settled on my face, studying my reaction. "What do you think, will Jack send you an invitation?"

    Aplex mix of emotions churned inside me. Jack and I had just argued over Skke District, so logically he shouldn¡¯t invite me. But with the historic building now in my possession, Simpson Group would need to go through me if they wanted to develop Skke. Whether through acquisition or force, Jack would inevitably approach me again. Before I could sort through my thoughts, Logan had already drawn his conclusion.

    "I suspect you¡¯ll receive an invitation very soon," he said, his tone matter-of-fact.

    Oscar pped the table, his voice filled with undisguised contempt for Jack.

    "He has the nerve to invite Anna?

    Don¡¯t go. I won¡¯t be going either."

    Logan gave Oscar a dismissive nce before turning back to me. "Right, I won¡¯t attend either. I have little interest in Skke."

    I looked at him with confusion.

    "Doesn¡¯t the Porter family have real estate operations?"

    "Notrge enough, and frankly, I don¡¯t care topete with them," Logan replied with a self-deprecating smile.

    "Besides, Simpson Group clearly views Skke as already theirs. Anyone else who wants a piece will have to partner with them..."

    "Don¡¯t worry, Anna. We Porters would never work with that bastard Jack," Oscar jumped in, finishing his brother¡¯s thought.

    I looked at Logan, feeling a wave of warmth as he continued: "However, if you¡¯re interested in Skke, I might consider helping you raise some capital."

    Faced with the Porters¡¯ sincerity, I decided to be honest in return. "I do have some ideas for Skke, but if even the Porter family can¡¯t handle this project alone, Shaw Corp certainly can¡¯t manage it independently. But if I want to protect my mother¡¯s ancestral home, I have no choice but to get involved in the Skke project."

    As we approached Goldenleaf Manor after dinner, I spotted Jack leaning against his sedan, smoking. Irritation immediately rose within me.

    "Don¡¯t stop. Drive straight in," I instructed Rachel.

    "Ms. Shaw, Mr. Simpson is probably here to invite you to the g," Rachel reminded me.

    Only then did I remember the invitation matter and hesitated. "Fine, stop outside." I certainly didn¡¯t want to invite Jack inside.

    As I stepped out of the car, Logan happened to call. The conversation was brief but warm. When I hung up, I turned to find Jack staring at me, his brows furrowed.

    "Were you just with Logan Porter?" he asked, his tone rigid.

    "Is there something you need?" I didn¡¯t bother answering his question.

    Seeing my impatience, his irritation visibly red. "I¡¯m asking if you were just with Logan Porter?"

    "What if I was? How is that any of your business?" I felt talking to him was aplete waste of time. "If there¡¯s nothing else, you should go." I turned to walk toward the gate.

    "I¡¯m hosting a dinner tomorrow evening, and I hope you¡¯ll attend," Jack said, restraining his temper, his voice deep.

    Surprised that he was indeed here to invite me, I quickly considered my options and decided to investigate further. "Fine, I¡¯ll be there."

    "Could you open the gate? I¡¯d like to talk inside," he said, clearly agitated.

    I looked at him, puzzled. "Wasn¡¯t that all you needed to say? It¡¯s gettingte, and I won¡¯t be inviting you in. It wouldn¡¯t be appropriate for us to be alone together."

    Jack stared at me in disbelief, evidently unable to process my current attitude.

    "Anna, my thoughts have been... confusedtely. I think we need to talk properly," his tone carried aplexity I couldn¡¯t immediately decipher.

    "What could we possibly have to discuss?" I asked, genuinely perplexed.

    "I¡¯ve realized my feelings for you have changed," he said, his expression conflicted. "Could we sit down and talk calmly? I admit I wasn¡¯t good to you before, that I hurt you, but I was suffering too. You need to give me time to sort through my feelings. You can¡¯t just turn my life upside down and then walk away."

    I couldn¡¯t make sense of what he was saying. "What are you implying? That everything is somehow my fault?

    Falling in love with you was my fault, marrying you was my fault, and now the divorce is my fault too? Jack Simpson, you can¡¯t just be unreasonable because your family has money."

    "I¡¯m not saying you¡¯re at fault. I¡¯m asking for another chance," he exined urgently. "Anna, I¡¯ve been thinking a lottely, struggling with this for a while, and I¡¯ve realized... I think I might be falling for you."

    I stood there dumbfounded, hardly believing my ears.

    Though I¡¯d heard from Mary Simpson that Jack might have feelings for me, I never expected him to confess at a moment like this.

    "What?" Once I recovered, I couldn¡¯t help butugh bitterly. "Mr. Simpson, surely you understand how impure your motives seem right now?"

    "I know. Not just you, even my father would probably think I¡¯m trying to manipte you for that old mansion," Jack said, clearly frustrated. "But that¡¯s not the case. The mansion is one thing, my feelings for you arepletely separate."

    I nodded, my eyes filled with sarcasm.

    "Is that so? Then why don¡¯t you hand over the Skke District project to me?

    Can you do that?"

 Chapter 36: No Room for Love

    <h4>Chapter 36: No Room for Love</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "Not possible. Skke District project belongs to the Simpson family. You¡¯ll see tomorrow. Going against the Simpson family? You have absolutely no chance of winning." Jack¡¯s cold snort apanied his words, his eyes filled with unwavering certainty.

    My heart sank. This wasn¡¯t the answer I wanted to hear, but it precisely confirmed his serious attitude. I had intended to test him¡ªif he had easily agreed, he would have just been cating me. But his refusal actually convinced me that he was serious about both Skke District and me.

    This sincerity irritated me to no end.

    I stepped away from him, the cool night air a wee relief against my heated skin. "Good night, Mr. Simpson. I¡¯ll see you at dinner tomorrow."

    Inside, I leaned against the door, exhaling slowly. Jack Simpson was thestplication I needed right now.

    His sudden change of heart was as unwee as it was suspicious. After everything we¡¯d been through, did he honestly think he could waltz back into my life with a few earnest words?

    And conveniently just as I gained possession of a property crucial to his family¡¯s business interests?

    *What does he take me for? A fool?*

    The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains as I stood before my closet, contemting the evening ahead. This dinner wasn¡¯t just a social gathering¡ªit was a battlefield, and I needed the perfect armor.

    "When dining with a group of men," I exined to Rachel as she helped me select my outfit, "your clothes can¡¯t be too sexy, lest they feel self-important and think you¡¯re trying to seduce them.

    But they can¡¯t be too conservative either, or you¡¯ll be their true opponent, and they¡¯ll show no mercy when they strike. The bnce needs to be just right."

    I finally settled on a deep blue dress with a tasteful V-neck, paired with a dark green zer and white heels.

    Pearl ne and earrings would showcase my softer side, preventing me from appearing too sharp during potential disagreements.

    "Notify Sean that he¡¯ll be apanying me to dinner tomorrow night," I said casually to Rachel.

    Rachel¡¯s eyebrows shot up. "Ms. Shaw, won¡¯t Jack... explode when he sees Sean?"

    I couldn¡¯t suppress a lightugh.

    "Whether he explodes or not is his business. Who I bring is my freedom.

    Besides, there will be many more asions like this in the future. Sean needs to get familiar with them as well."

    The restaurant was predictably upscale ¡ªthe kind where the menus don¡¯t list prices and the waitstaff move like ghosts between tables. Sean and I arrived precisely on time, neither early enough to appear eager norte enough to seem disrespectful.

    The moment we walked in, I felt the shift in atmosphere. Every head turned, conversations momentarily paused, and eyes widened at the sight of Sean by my side.

    Jack¡¯s face when he spotted Sean was worth every ounce of potential fallout.

    His expression transformed from anticipation to shock, then settled into barely contained fury. The muscle in his jaw twitched violently as he clenched his teeth.

    "Anna, wee!" George Simpson smiled with unprecedented warmth¡ªan expression I¡¯d never witnessed during my entire marriage to his son.

    "Today is just a casual dinner gathering. Everyone here is a family friend. Don¡¯t be nervous. Take this opportunity to learn from these sessful individuals."

    "Yes, Mr. Simpson," I responded respectfully, while inwardly mocking an expression I¡¯d never witnessed during my entire marriage to his son.

    "Today is just a casual dinner gathering. Everyone here is a family friend. Don¡¯t be nervous. Take this opportunity to learn from these sessful individuals."

    "Yes, Mr. Simpson," I responded respectfully, while inwardly mocking his transparent facade.

    I was seated next to Jack, a cement I epted with apparent indifference.

    Sean came to pick up my coat, bag and other things, he was my assistant, assistant driver and other people eat outside.

    Jack leaned toward me, his voice a forced whisper. "Would you like something to drink?"

    I turned to him, my expression deliberately innocent. "Do you know what I like to drink?"

    His confidence faltered, uncertainty flickering across his features. He nced at the menu, then at me, clearly at a loss.

    "T¡¯ll just have water for now," I said, savoring his difort.

    Momentster, Sean caught a waiter¡¯s attention. "Could we get a specially brewed lemon green tea for Ms. Shaw, please? Steeped for exactly four minutes, with the leaves removed before serving."

    The waiter nodded, and Jack¡¯s expression darkened further.

    "You¡¯re doing this on purpose, aren¡¯t you?" Jack hissed under his breath.

    My lips curved into a slight smile. "I don¡¯t understand what Mr. Simpson is suggesting. But I do understand your father¡¯s intentions. I just want to know, if I don¡¯t listen to the Simpson family, if I don¡¯t cooperate with the Simpson family, will Shaw Corp go bankrupt?" My voice wasn¡¯t loud, but each word dripped with sarcasm.

    "Who else would you partner with if not me?" Jack stared at me, his gaze burning. "My uncle? Don¡¯t forget, in America, he¡¯s nothing but money.

    Anna, you¡¯ve been in the business world for several years now. You can¡¯t be naive enough to think that money alone can secure Skke District?

    Remember, Skke District is *Skyview City¡¯s* Skke District."

    My heart sank, but I maintained my smile. "From your expression, I thought you were going to say Skke District is the Simpson family¡¯s Skke District." I was deliberately provoking him.

    The conversation around the table flowed with practiced ease, but I could sense the underlying currents. Every seemingly casualment carried weight, every anecdote served a purpose. Calvin Turner and Luke Hill both made pointed remarks about the benefits of partnering with Simpson Group, their loyalty to Jack¡¯s family painfully obvious.

    "The market has been particrly challengingtely," Calvin remarked, swirling his wine. "Those without strong backing might find themselves in precarious positions."

    Luke nodded, his gaze sliding meaningfully toward me. "Absolutely.

    That¡¯s why strategic alliances are more crucial than ever. The Simpson family has always known how to choose the right partners."

    Their coordinated performance was almost amusing. These men were being forced to side with the Simpson family as a way to pressure me into "being sensible." The message couldn¡¯t have been clearer if they¡¯d spelled it out.

    Finally, George Simpson turned to me with that same artificial smile. "Anna, let me ask you, what are Shaw Corp¡¯s ns? Are you interested in taking a stake in the Skke District project?

    We¡¯re not strangers, after all. We could reserve a substantial share for you.

    What do you think?"

    The table fell silent, all eyes trained on me.

    "A substantial share? You mean...rger than the Simpson family¡¯s share?" I asked innocently, my eyes wide with feigned naivety.

    Anna¡¯s POV

    The silence around the table was deafening. I could practically hear the gears turning in everyone¡¯s minds as they processed my audacious question.

    George Simpson¡¯s artificial smile froze on his face, the corners of his mouth twitching ever so slightly.

    "Arger share than the Simpson family?" Calvin Turner broke the silence with a disbelievingugh.

    "Anna, you can¡¯t be serious."

    "Miss Shaw, you¡¯re quite young, but your appetite is remarkablyrge," Calvin continued, his voiceced with mockery.

    Iughed lightly, giving a casual shrug. "Just making conversation.

    Daydreaming doesn¡¯t cost anything, does it?"

    Turning back to George Simpson, I deliberately adopted a wide-eyed, harmless demeanor. "Mr.Simpson

    understands Shaw Corp well. We¡¯re just a smallpany. How could we possibly have designs on Skke District? I¡¯m really just here for the free food and drinks." I gestured around the table with exaggerated politeness. "Please, gentlemen, continue your discussion. Don¡¯t mind me."

    I watched as the warmth drained from his eyes, reced by something colder and more calcting. He¡¯d finally realized I wasn¡¯t going to y along with whatever game he¡¯d arranged this dinner for.

    "Anna," he said, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone that sent warning signals through my body, "you shoulde by the house sometime. Mary has been asking about you."

    *Mary Simpson asking about me?*

    Even he couldn¡¯t deliver that lie with conviction. The mere suggestion that the woman who had once called me a "loose woman" to my face was now inquiring after my wellbeing with anything resembling genuine concern wasughable.

    A wave of disgust rolled through me.

    I¡¯d yed nice long enough.

    "Mary¡¯s been asking about me?" I echoed, my voice honeyed but eyes sharp. "I suppose I shouldn¡¯t have argued with her so much in the past.

    After all, she is *family*

    The sarcasm in my voice was unmistakable. Everyone at the table stiffened, clearly catching my meaning.

    George Simpson¡¯s face turned an interesting shade of purple as he realized his attempt to manipte me had failed spectacrly.

    "Let¡¯s eat, let¡¯s eat," he finally said, raising his ss in a forced gesture of conviviality. "Everyone brought their drivers tonight. Let¡¯s have a toast."

    I set my napkin on the table and rose to my feet with deliberate grace. "Mr. Simpson, gentlemen, I won¡¯t continue to dampen the evening¡¯s atmosphere.

    Please, enjoy your dinner. Another time, I¡¯ll host and treat you all."

    Tack¡¯ POV

    I watched as Anna made her excuses and left the private dining room with that practiced smile she¡¯d perfected over the years-polite, distant, andpletely imprable. The moment she disappeared through the doorway, my father shot me a look of unmistakable disappointment. I ignored him, pushing back my chair and following her out.

    I strode forward, grabbing her wrist before she could reach the elevator. "I don¡¯t think you understood what I was saying yesterday," I said, my voiceing out harder than I¡¯d intended. I could feel her trying to pull away, but I held firm, desperate to make her listen.

    "I understood perfectly," she replied, her tone cial as she sessfully extracted her wrist from my grip.

    "Then why won¡¯t you cooperate with Simpson Group? It¡¯s the best option for everyone involved. Do you even realize what you¡¯re doing?" I couldn¡¯t keep the edge of pleading from my voice.

    I saw Sean and Rachel tensing, ready to step in, but Anna raised her hand slightly, stopping them with that quiet authority she carried so effortlessly now. When had she be so self- possessed?

    "Cooperate with your family?" She met my gaze directly, unflinching. "Let me ask you something. What exactly are Simpson Group¡¯s ns for my mother¡¯s historic mansion in Skke District?¡¯

    The question caught me off guard. I¡¯d been so focused on securing her cooperation that I hadn¡¯t anticipated she¡¯d already seen through to the heart of the issue.

    "If Skke District is being developed into real estate, that historic building sits right at the edge of the nned area. You can¡¯t have an ancient structure in the middle of a modern luxurymunity, can you? Are you nning to demolish it?"

    My silence must have confirmed her suspicions. The truth was, our development ns *did* call for that building¡¯s removal, but I hadn¡¯t wanted to confront that particr detail just yet.

    "We can discuss the building," I offered, trying to sound reasonable. "If you really want to preserve it-"

    "That building will absolutely not be demolished," she cut me off, her voice steel-edged with conviction.

    She held my gaze for a moment longer, then delivered the blow I¡¯d been dreading since I began to recognize my own feelings. "Jack Simpson, I don¡¯t care why you¡¯ve suddenly decided you have feelings for me again. It has nothing to do with me. As far as I¡¯m concerned, we¡¯re done. Whatever feelings I had for you werepletely dealt with when we divorced."

    "I¡¯ll never love you again."

    Each wordnded like a physical blow. The finality in her voice left no room for hope.

    "And I don¡¯t like your family either. I don¡¯t like your parents. My values arepletely at odds with your family¡¯s.

    So you¡¯d better stop wasting your time on me. I won¡¯t respond to any of it."

    I opened my mouth, though what I could possibly say in response, I had no idea. But she wasn¡¯t finished.

    "We won¡¯t be lovers, Jack. Onlypetitors."

    With that, she turned and walked away, Sean and Rachel falling into step beside her. I stood frozen, watching her retreat, feeling something vital and irreceable slipping through my fingers.

    "Another," I muttered, pushing my empty ss across the polished bar at Olympus Club.

    Calvin settled onto the stool beside me, sipping his own drink with infuriating moderation. "Want to talk about it?"

    I snorted, epting the fresh whiskey ced before me. "Not particrly."

    "Suit yourself," he shrugged, motioning for Luke to join us.

    Luke slid into the seat on my other side, eyeing me with curiosity. "Did I miss something?"

    "He had another run-in with Anna,"Calvin exined, his tone carefully neutral. "After she left the dinner."

    Luke winced sympathetically. "The dinner didn¡¯t go well, huh? I noticed she brought that Sean guy. That was... unexpected."

    "Judging by Jack¡¯s father¡¯s expression, it was more than unexpected," Calvin added. "It was a deration of war."

    I downed half my whiskey in one swallow, weing the burn. "I¡¯m..." I began, then faltered, struggling to articte the chaos of emotions coursing through me. "I¡¯m done."

    "What do you mean ¡¯done"?" Luke leaned closer, concern evident in his expression.

    I stared at the ceiling, feeling strangely hollow and overfull at the same time.

    "I¡¯ve fallen in love with Anna."

    Calvin choked on his drink, coughing violently while Luke¡¯s eyes widened toical proportions.

    "You¡¯re joking," Luke managed after a moment of stunned silence.

    "Jesus, Jack." Calvin wiped his mouth, still recovering from his coughing fit.

    "Your timing is impable. Did you tell her?"

    "Yep." I emptied my ss and signaled for another. "She shot me down. Thoroughly."

    "You can¡¯t me her," Luke pointed out. "After everything that happened between you two..."

    Calvin was less diplomatic. "What did you expect? You let her spend your wedding night alone. Just that alone what woman would forgive that?"

    I didn¡¯t bother defending myself.

    There was no defense.

    "Your timing couldn¡¯t be worse," Luke sighed. "She probably thinks you¡¯re only interested because of that mansion. The historic building in Skke."

    I shook my head slowly, feeling the room tilt slightly. "She knows better.

    She knows exactly how I feel." Iughed mirthlessly. "That¡¯s the worst part. She believes me. She just doesn¡¯t care."

    "She rejected me because she doesn¡¯t love me anymore," I continued, the truth of it settling like a stone in my stomach. "It¡¯s that simple."

 Chapter 37: The Price of Possession

    <h4>Chapter 37: The Price of Possession</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "Are you alright, Ms. Shaw?" Rachel asked softly as we walked to the car, her concern evident in her voice.

    I nodded curtly, "I¡¯m fine."

    Sean had already left, taking a taxi home after the dinner.

    Rachel opened the car door for me as we reached the vehicle. "Where to, Ms. Shaw? Goldenleaf Manor?"

    "Sapphire Sky Hotel," I decided, settling into the backseat. "I need some time to think."

    The drive provided a wee reprieve, allowing me to gather my thoughts. I had known going up against Simpson Group would be challenging, but tonight had confirmed just how ruthless they were prepared to be. George Simpson had made it abundantly clear: either I cooperated with Simpson Group, or Shaw Corp would face the consequences. The implied threat wasn¡¯t subtle cross us, and we¡¯ll ensure no one in Skyview City does business with you again.

    I gazed out at the city lights, weighing my options. Shaw Corp wasn¡¯trge enough to develop Skke District alone that much was true. But surrendering to Simpson Group would mean watching my mother¡¯s childhood home get demolished, reced by whatever monstrosity they deemed fitting for their "luxurymunity."

    By the time we reached the hotel, I had made my decision. I would not back down. Whatever consequences came from defying the Simpsons, I would face them head-on.

    On the way to the hotel, I pulled out my phone and sent a quick message to the mysterious stranger.

    *Are you avable tonight?*

    The response came almost immediately: *Always for you.*

    I made my way to room 3303. I slid the keycard into the lock, and the moment I pushed the door open, strong arms wrapped around me from the darkness. He was already there, waiting for me in the pitch-ck room. His embrace was immediate and possessive, pulling me against his solid chest before I¡¯d even had a chance to step fully inside.

    I linked my arms around his neck, pressing my body against his. "I can keep my eyes closed," I whispered, standing on tiptoe to brush my lips against his. "I don¡¯t need to know who you are. I like what we have just as it is."

    I felt his body tense slightly, his breath catching. Encouraged, I continued kissing him softly, my voice dropping to a seductive murmur between kisses.

    "We should set some ground rules, though. Keep things clean, respect boundaries, either of us can stop this anytime. Would that work for you?"

    There was a moment of silence, his body rigid against mine. Then, a single word: "Yes."

    I ran my hands down his chest, suddenly aware that he was still fully dressed. My fingers found the buttons of his shirt, slowly unfastening them.

    "Why not take this off?" I asked, curious about his reluctance to undresspletely during our encounters.

    I had only managed to undo three buttons when his hands caught mine, stopping their progress. In one fluid motion, he pinned both my wrists above my head, pressing me back against the cool tile wall. His mouth found mine in a kiss that was more demanding, more possessive than any we¡¯d shared before.

    The intensity sent a shiver through me, my body responding instinctively to his dominance. This was exactly what I needed tonight-to surrender control, to lose myself in sensation, to forget about Simpson Group and Skke District and all theplications waiting for me in the morning.

    At noon the next day,I arrived at Rosa Vi, my mind still reying the disastrous dinner with the Simpsons from the night before. The moment I stepped through the door, the faint metallic scent of blood hit me, sending a jolt of concern through my chest.

    "Uncle Marcus, your wound still hasn¡¯t healed?" My brow furrowed as I found him in the guest room, just finishing changing his bandages. The white gauze was spotted with fresh crimson, making my stomach tighten. Thinking of Oscar¡¯s usual boasting about his medical expertise, I felt heat rising to my face. "Oscar talks big about his medical skills, but a simple wound has taken days to heal? What kind of doctor is he?"

    I pulled out my phone, ready to call Oscar and demand an exnation.

    Marcus gave me one of his characteristic cool stares, effectively stopping me in my tracks.

    "It has nothing to do with Dr. Porter," he stated calmly, his voice betraying nothing as he adjusted his position on the edge of the bed. "I identally reopened the wound myself."

    Hearing this, half my anger subsided, but my concern only intensified. I put my phone away and stepped closer, my voice softening despite myself.

    "Uncle Marcus, you need to be careful.

    Reopening the wound will just make it heal more slowly." Inwardly, I berated myself for noting to check on him earlier, too caught up in my own business battles.

    Marcus didn¡¯t borate, simply buttoning his shirt in silence before abruptly changing the subject: "How did the dinner with the Simpson family go?"

    This was precisely why I¡¯de today.

    I sighed, feeling a wave of defeat wash over me as I sank into the chair across from him. "T¡¯ve offended the Simpson family. By now, the news must be all over Skyview City."

    To my surprise, Marcus personally poured me a cup of tea, his movements gentle and attentive despite his injury. His voice carried a hint of amusement: "Weren¡¯t they already offended?"

    I paused, thenughed at myself, the sound unexpectedly genuine. He was right-from marriage until now, I hadn¡¯t done a single thing that pleased Jack Simpson. Looking back, our rtionship was truly a mismatch from the start, with neither of us finding peace in it.

    "But now, no one will dare partner with me," I sighed again, lifting the teacup to my lips. The tea was the perfect temperature, and I found myself taking several consecutive sips, emptying the cup before I realized it.

    Seeing this, Marcus refilled my cup, his eyes never leaving my face. His voice was deep and steady, somehow dispelling the anxiety in my heart:

    "There¡¯s no rush. The development permits haven¡¯t been issued yet. Even if development ising, it¡¯s still early."

    He looked at me, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly in a smile filled with deeper meaning: "Even if someone is in a hurry, it shouldn¡¯t be you."

    Marcus¡¯s POV

    Anna sat across from me, her slender fingers tapping restlessly against the armrest of her chair. Despite herposed exterior, I could sense her inner conflict.

    "Uncle Marcus, why don¡¯t you just sell me that historic building?" she finally said, breaking thefortable silence between us. "I feel ufortable asking you to transfer the property without paying for it. I just can¡¯t bring myself to ask you toplete the paperwork."

    I studied her carefully, admiring the proud tilt of her chin and the determined set of her shoulders. There was something captivating about her stubbornness, a quality that simultaneously amused and attracted me. Her independence had always been one of her most endearing traits ¡ªand one I knew I could use to my advantage.

    "Anna," I began, my voice deliberately measured, "I have a proposition for you."

    Her eyes met mine, curiosity flickering across her features. "I¡¯m listening."

    "How about this-you don¡¯t pay me directly. Consider the $200 million as my investment." I kept my voice deliberately casual, though the proposal was anything but. "In the Skke District project."

    Anna¡¯s eyes widened slightly as she processed my words. "You... want to invest in Skke?"

    "I told you I was nning to shift some operations back to America." I shrugged, as if we were discussing something as trivial as the weather.

    "This could be a suitable starting point."

    She fell silent, her mind clearly racing through implications and possibilities.

    "That would make us partners," she said finally, her tone carefully neutral.

    "In a manner of speaking, yes. I¡¯d have a stake in Skke¡¯s development, but Shaw Corp would maintain operational control." I paused, allowing her time to consider. "You get your family¡¯s mansion back, and 1 secure a promising investment. A practical solution for both parties."

    The tension in her shoulders eased slightly. "I need to think about it."

    "Of course." I nodded, already knowing what her answer would be.

    Anna Shaw was nothing if not practical, and this offer solved her immediate problem while keeping her pride intact. "Take all the time you need."

    By afternoon, Rachel arrived with the drafted agreement. Anna had moved quickly, as I knew she would. The contract was elegant in its simplicity¡ª a straightforward investment arrangement that outlined my financial stake while preserving Shaw Corp¡¯s decision-making authority.

    "Everything appears to be in order," I remarked, scanning the document.

    Anna sat beside me at the dining table, her pen poised. "You¡¯re sure about this? Two hundred million is a significant investment."

    "I¡¯m sure." I signed my name with deliberate strokes, then watched as she did the same.

    "Uncle Marcus, once you¡¯ve recovered from your injury, we should goplete the property transfer," she said, extending her hand across the table. "To a sessful partnership."

    As she reached toward me, the sleeve of her blouse slid back slightly, revealing her wrist. My attention caught on a faint circle of reddish marks around the delicate skin¡ª marks I recognized immediately. I had left those marks myself the previous night in room 3303 of the Sapphire Sky Hotel, when I¡¯d pinned her wrists above her head against the cool wall.

    Heat surged through me at the memory, though my expression remained impassive.

    "A sessful partnership," I echoed, my voice deeper than I¡¯d intended.

    "I insist we handle the transfer as soon as possible," I said, redirecting the conversation. "My injury is minor. We shouldplete the paperwork tomorrow to avoid anyplications."

    She nodded, relief evident in her posture. "If you¡¯re certain you¡¯re well enough."

    The following day, wepleted all legal formalities with efficient precision. As the final papers were processed, I watched Anna¡¯s face transform. The relief that washed over her was palpable this historic building, this piece of her mother¡¯s childhood, was finally back where it belonged.

    In that moment, I glimpsed something beneath her carefully maintained exterior¡ªa vulnerability she rarely allowed others to see. Her hand trembled slightly as she received the property deed, and I resisted the sudden, inexplicable urge to reach out and steady it with my own.

    "Thank you, Uncle Marcus," she said quietly, once we were alone. "This means more to my family than I can express."

    "Your mother will be pleased," I said quietly.

    She nodded, carefully cing the deed into her leather portfolio. "More than pleased. This means everything to her."

    As we walked down the grand marble steps of the Municipal Hall into the bright afternoon sunlight, Anna turned to me with unexpected warmth in her expression.

    "Uncle Marcus, let me take you to dinner," she offered. "My treat."

    I looked down at her, enjoying how even in her high heels, she barely reached my jawline. Something about this height difference brought me a strange satisfaction.

    "Another thank you?" I asked, my tone lightly teasing.

    "Yes," she admitted freely, her smile genuine and unguarded. "I¡¯m truly grateful. Without you, my mother and I would have had to watch my grandfather¡¯s historic building be demolished. You have no idea what this means to us."

    I studied her for a moment, finding myself drawn to the sincerity in her expression. "Dinner sounds perfect."

    Anna chose a discreet, upscale restaurant tucked away from the bustle of downtown. The moment we entered, I recognized it as the type of establishment that catered to an exclusive clientele who valued privacy as much as exceptional cuisine.

    "Ms. Shaw!" The owner, a striking woman in her forties, approached immediately with obvious familiarity.

    "Your usual table is ready." Her eyes darted to me with unconcealed interest.

    She led us to a secluded corner booth, then leaned closer to Anna, her voice dropping to what she clearly thought was a whisper. "He¡¯s quite something, isn¡¯t he? So much more sophisticated and substantial than your ex-husband."

    I pretended not to hear, studying the wine list with apparent concentration while hiding my amusement.

    The owner wasn¡¯t finished. She leaned even closer to Anna¡¯s ear, though not nearly quietly enough. "Trust my judgment-this man looks extremely *capable*. Have you tried him out yet?"

    Anna¡¯s face flushed an attractive shade of pink. "Reba!" she hissed, mortified.

    Rebaughed, patting Anna¡¯s shoulder before backing away. "¡¯ll send over our best bottle of Bordeaux. On the house."

    Once we were alone, Anna struggled to meet my eyes. "Uncle Marcus, the restaurant owner can be rather direct and casual. Please don¡¯t take offense."

    I held her gaze steadily, allowing a small smile to y at the corners of my mouth. "She¡¯s right, you know. You should try it."

    Anna froze, her expression one of absolute shock. "*What?*"

    "How will you know she¡¯s not right unless you try?" I continued, enjoying her flustered reaction far too much.

    My voice dropped lower, more intimate. "I¡¯ve wondered about it myself."

 Chapter 38: Sweeter Stakes

    <h4>Chapter 38: Sweeter Stakes</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I quickly poured myself a ss of water to calm my nerves, feeling my heart about to leap out of my chest. In my mind, Marcus Murphy had always embodied stability, reliability, and integrity¡ªan uncle I could trust without question. But now, his meaningden gaze and ambiguous words stirred unprecedented unease within me, a sense of disillusionment washing over me.

    "Uncle Marcus, what are you saying? I don¡¯t understand." I struggled to maintain myposure, forcing a smile while desperately changing the subject. "By the way, this restaurant¡¯s signature dish is really exceptional.

    You should definitely try more of it."

    Marcus simply smiled without responding, his gaze seeming to prate my facade. I couldn¡¯t bring myself to meet his eyes.

    "I¡¯ll be sure to savor it," he finally replied, his deep voice tinged with amusement.

    His stare made my entire body tingle ufortably, as if I stood exposed before him. I endured the difort, barely finishing my meal before hastily fabricating an excuse about urgent work and making my escape.

    Even after getting into my car, I could still feel the heat of his gaze-that direct, intense scrutiny that made me want nothing more than to flee.

    Rachel caught my eye in the rearview mirror, her face etched with concern.

    "Ms. Shaw, has something happened?"

    I closed my eyes, pretending to rest.

    "Nothing. I¡¯m just feeling a bit tired."

    The phone¡¯s ringtone interrupted my thoughts. It was Logan Porter inviting me to dinner, mentioning he wanted to introduce me to a friend. Seeing that it was still early, I decided against going to Shaw Corp and instead headed home to pick up my mother so we could visit the historic building in Skke District that we¡¯d just reimed.

    Outside the tall Victorian-style house, my mother took the keys from Rachel¡¯s hand and carefully unlocked the heavy oak door. In that moment, I could clearly see the emotions swirling in her eyes¡ªnostalgia, sadness, and joy all intertwined.

    "T¡¯ll find professionals to handle the restoration and preservation work," I said softly, stepping forward to embrace her, feeling her body tremble slightly against mine. "Mom, what are your thoughts? Would you like to restore itpletely to its original appearance? Once it¡¯s fixed up, we could stay here asionally."

    Tears glistened in my mother¡¯s eyes as she gently stroked the damaged banister. "Just maintaining its historic character would be fine. Such arge house would feel too empty with just the two of us living here."

    Despite her words, I could see how attached she was to this home filled with memories. After returning to Goldenleaf Manor, I called Rachel over.

    "I need you to contact the best architectural restoration experts, especially those specializing in Victorian-era buildings."

    "Ms. Shaw, are you nning to restore the historic building in Skke?" she asked.

    I nodded firmly. "Since we¡¯ve bought it back, we certainly can¡¯t let it continue to deteriorate. Find a professional historic building restoration team. I want to restore it to its original appearance as much as possible." I had already decided internally that regardless of the cost, I would ensure my mother could reim the home filled with her memories.

    At six o¡¯clock that evening, I arrived punctually at Sapphire Sky Hotel to meet Logan Porter. Just as I stepped out of my car, a flirtatious whistle sounded from behind me. I frowned slightly but ignored it, continuing toward the hotel entrance.

    "Excuse me, beautifuldy... Holy shit, it¡¯s you!"

    Turning around, I was surprised to see the same man Peter Reed had escorted out of the charity event earlier. His expression quickly shifted from flirtation to distaste, and I really couldn¡¯t be bothered to engage with such childish behavior.

    When I reached our reserved private room and saw that the person engaged in animated conversation with Logan was none other than the man from moments ago, I froze in my tracks.

    "Anna! Come in," Logan greeted me enthusiastically. "Samuel, this is Anna Shaw I¡¯ve been telling you about, the CEO of Shaw Corp, one of the youngest executives in Skyview City.

    Anna, this is Samuel Griffin, heir to Heritage Group."

    My eyes widened in shock. The heir to Heritage Group? This was amercial powerhouse from Sovereign City, and I had mistaken him for nothing more than a spoiled rich kid.

    I quickly extended my hand, struggling to maintain professionalism.

    "Mr. Griffin, pleased to meet you. I¡¯m Anna Shaw."

    Samuel nced at my hand, his lips curling into a smirk. "I wouldn¡¯t dare shake that hand. What if your boyfriend has me thrown out again? I do have some dignity to maintain."

    Logan looked between us, confusion evident on his face. "You two... know each other?"

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I stood there awkwardly, realizing this dinner might be far moreplicated than I had anticipated. Logan stood between us, clearly baffled by the unexpected situation.

    "We¡¯ve... crossed paths before," I offered diplomatically, lowering my hand. "There seems to have been a misunderstanding."

    Samuel scoffed, settling back in his chair with an exaggerated casualness.

    "Misunderstanding? That¡¯s what you¡¯re calling it? You drenched me in champagne, and then your boyfriend had me thrown out of the charity g like somemon gatecrasher."

    My stomach tightened as I watched Logan¡¯s eyes widen in shock. *Great.

    Just great.* Of all the business magnates in the world, Logan had to introduce me to the very man I¡¯d publicly humiliated. The heir to Heritage Group¡ªamercial powerhouse that could either be a powerful ally or a devastating enemy.

    "He¡¯s not my boyfriend," I corrected automatically, then immediately regretted giving Samuel the satisfaction of a response.

    "Whoever he is," Samuel continued, his voice dripping with contempt, "I don¡¯t forget insults easily, Ms. Shaw."

    I forced myself to take a deep breath.

    For Shaw Corp, for the Skke District project, for my mother¡¯s ancestral home¡ªI needed to swallow my pride.

    The painful reality of business was crystallizing before me: sometimes you had to smile at the people you¡¯d rather p.

    "It truly was a misunderstanding, Mr. Griffin," I said, making my voice as conciliatory as possible. "And I apologize for how things unfolded that evening." The words felt like ss in my throat.

    "This is unexpected," Logan interjected, clearly trying to salvage the situation. "But surely we can move past it? We¡¯re all professionals here."

    Samuel¡¯s eyes never left my face. "T¡¯ll tell you what¡ªl¡¯m feeling generous tonight. Let¡¯s make this simple. I¡¯ll ept your apology... after you¡¯ve properly atoned." His smile was all teeth and no warmth.

    "I¡¯m willing to make amends," I said carefully. "What did you have in mind?"

    "Let¡¯s see..." He reached for a bottle of Scotch whisky that had been ced on the table and set it directly in front of me. "Finish this, and we¡¯ll call it even."

    My heart sank as I stared at the amber liquid. The bottle was nearly full-at least 700ml of high-proof alcohol.

    "Samuel, that¡¯s excessive," Logan protested, finally finding his voice.

    "Anna¡¯s here for a business discussion, not to_"

    Before he could finish, I reached for the bottle. *For Skke. For Shaw Corp. For everything my father built.* I unscrewed the cap in one decisive motion and brought the bottle to my lips.

    The first swallow burned like fire down my throat, bringing involuntary tears to my eyes. I¡¯d never been much of a drinker-two sses of wine was typically my limit. But I forced myself to take another gulp, and another.

    "Jesus, Anna! Stop!" Logan tried to take the bottle from me, but I jerked it away.

    My throat was on fire, my eyes watering so badly I could barely see Samuel¡¯s smug expression. After a few more desperate swallows, I finally choked, setting the bottle down hard on the table as I dissolved into a coughing fit.

    "You actually tried to drink it," Samuel remarked, sounding genuinely surprised. "I¡¯m impressed by your dedication, if nothing else."

    "Enough, Samuel," Logan said firmly, sliding the bottle away from me. "This isn¡¯t what I brought you two together for. Can we please behave like adults?"

    Samuel eyed me with what might have been grudging respect. "Fine. Consider us even, Ms. Shaw. For now."

    I nodded, still unable to speak through my burning throat. A waiter appeared with water, which I gratefully gulped down, feeling the alcohol already beginning to affect my system.

    "Well, I¡¯ve already ordered some appetizers," Logan said, clearly trying to steer us back to normalcy. "Why don¡¯t we start there and see where the evening takes us?"

    Twenty minutester, I managed to pull Logan aside while Samuel was distracted by a phone call.

    "What the hell, Logan?" I whispered harshly once we were in the hallway outside. "You could have warned me you were introducing me to *him*!"

    "I had no idea you two had... history,"

    Logan defended himself, looking genuinely apologetic. "Sam just mentioned he was interested in new projects in Skyview City, and I thought connecting you two might be mutually beneficial."

    A suspicion sparked in my mind.

    "Why is Samuel Griffin suddenly interested in Skyview City? Heritage Group is based in Sovereign City, right?

    They¡¯ve never shown interest in our market before."

    Logan¡¯s expression confirmed my suspicion before he even spoke. "I¡¯m sure you ve already guessed. He¡¯s here for Skke District."

    My pulse quickened. "So that¡¯s it. He¡¯s here to discuss potential partnership with Simpson Group, isn¡¯t he?"

    "Anna," Logan continued, his voice dropping lower, "if you¡¯re serious about Skke, this could be your opportunity. Heritage Group has the capital and resources you need. They could be the perfect counterweight to Simpson Group."

    I nodded slowly, my mind already racing ahead to map out possibilities.

    "I need to get back in there before he finishes his call."

    When we returned to the private room, I approached Samuel with renewed purpose. The stakes had just risen dramatically¡ªif I could convince Heritage Group to back Shaw Corp instead of Simpson Group, the bnce of power would shiftpletely.

    "Mr. Griffin," I began, carefully pouring him another ss of wine, I forced a self-deprecatingugh. "Perhaps we could start fresh?"

    Samuel studied me with those calcting eyes. "You¡¯re suddenly very amodating, Ms. Shaw."

    "I respect what Heritage Group has aplished," I said, choosing my words carefully. "And I believe there could be valuable opportunities for coboration here in Skyview City."

    "Such as?" He leaned back, watching me with undisguised amusement.

    "Skke District, for one," I said directly, seeing no point in ying coy.

    "It¡¯s poised to be the most significant development project in the city¡¯s history."

    Samuel¡¯s eyebrows rose slightly-the first genuine reaction I¡¯d seen from him. "You¡¯re well-informed."

    "I try to be." I took a small sip of water, allowing my next words tond with appropriate weight. "Simpson Group seems confident they¡¯ve already secured it, but their position isn¡¯t as unassable as they believe."

 Chapter 39: Poise

    <h4>Chapter 39: Poise</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I watched Samuel¡¯s face carefully as I leaned slightly forward, my voice deliberately casual despite the weight of my words.

    "Simpson Group wants to secure Skke District, which isn¡¯t particrly difficult for them. But Mr.Griffin, what you may not know is that there¡¯s a historic building in Skke that belongs to a private owner. For Simpson Group to develop Skke, they must first resolve the issue of this building."

    I intentionally left my words hanging, noting with satisfaction how Samuel¡¯s eyes sparked with interest. He set down his ss slowly, studying me with newfound attention.

    "And this building is significant because...?" he prompted, his tone still dismissive but his bodynguage betraying his curiosity.

    "Whoever controls that historic property essentially controls the development rights to the most valuable section of Skke District," I exined, taking a small sip of water to ease my still-burning throat.

    Samuel nced at Logan, then back at me. "So what you¡¯re saying is¡ª whoever gets this building, gets Skke?"

    "More or less," I answered vaguely, calcting my next move carefully. I needed to hook him without appearing desperate.

    His eyes narrowed as he leaned back in his chair. "I see. And you two-" he gestured between Logan and me with his fork, "¡ªyou¡¯re both interested in this Skke project together?"

    "Mr. Griffin is quite perceptive," I conceded, deciding to drop all pretense. "Yes, I am the owner of that historic building. It¡¯s my mother¡¯s family ancestral home, already in my name. If you¡¯re interested, we could potentially coborate."

    Samuel¡¯s lips curled into something between a smile and a sneer.

    "Coborate? With you? What was your name again? Anna... something?

    I apologize, but I¡¯ve never heard of any prominent Shaw family in Skyview City."

    My throat tightened at the deliberate slight, but I maintained my smile. He knew I needed him more than he needed me, and he was making sure I felt it. But I¡¯d developed a thick skin over years in business, so I only smiled more brightly.

    "Shaw Corp certainly can¡¯tpare to Simpson Group," I admitted. The decision was immediate. "But the Simpson family will undoubtedly take the lion¡¯s share of any partnership.

    You surely didn¡¯te all the way from Sovereign City just to pick up scraps from someone else¡¯s table, did you?"

    Samuel¡¯s eyebrow arched slightly.

    "Why bring in a partner at all? Why not develop it myself?"

    "There¡¯s a saying-outsiders struggle to navigate local markets," I responded confidently, raising an eyebrow with a self-assured smile that I knew conveyed both confidence and challenge.

    Samuel studied me for a long moment before standing up. "Interesting proposition, Ms. Shaw. But if you want me on board, you¡¯ll need to prove your worth."

    With that, he nodded curtly at Logan.

    "Porter, good seeing you. I¡¯ll be in town for a few days. We¡¯ll talk again."

    As soon as the door closed behind him, my face copsed into exhaustion. I slumped back in my chair, directing a frustrated re at Logan.

    Logan pushed a ss of water toward me, concern evident in his expression.

    "If I¡¯d known about your previous... encounter, I never would have arranged this meeting."

    "Don¡¯t worry about me," I waved dismissively. "I have Rachel to handle things. Besides, if he¡¯s truly interested in Skke, he¡¯ll think carefully about what I said tonight. "

    "I¡¯ve already spent the entire evening pretending to be nice," I sighed, fatigue evident in my voice. "When you¡¯re the one asking for favors, you have to perform well enough to make others willing to invest."

    Logan nodded sympathetically. As the waiter cleared our barely-touched meals, I hesitated before asking the question that had been lingering in my mind.

    "By the way, Logan, are you truly not interested in Skke?"

    His eyes softened as he looked at me.

    "Didn¡¯t I already tell you? If you need additional capital, I¡¯ll help you raise it."

    A warmth spread through my chest at his words. In a business world where loyalty was as rare as genuine

    altruism, Logan¡¯s steadfast support was something I¡¯de to treasure.

    As we walked toward the exit, he lightly tapped my forehead with his knuckles a gesture so familiar it immediately transported me back to our childhood, when we were neighbors and he¡¯d do the same thing whenever I said something he found amusing or naive.

    I rubbed my forehead with exaggerated indignation. "Stop hitting me. We¡¯re not kids anymore."

    Hisugh echoed in the quiet hallway.

    "Some things never change, Annie."

    That night, I dreamed of my father.

    We were at a charity g, simr to the ones I now attended regrly, but everything felt slightly distorted. My father stood in a corner, dressed impably as always, but somehow smaller than I remembered him.

    My heart ached as I watched other business leaders barely acknowledge him, offering perfunctory nods before moving on to more "important" conversations. Though my father¡¯s smile never faltered, I could see the tension in his shoulders, the subtle strain around his eyes. The powerful executives circted through the room, gravitating toward the Simpson and Murphy patriarchs while treating my father as though he were invisible.

    I woke with a start, my heart pounding against my ribs, a cold sweat coating my skin. The darkness of my bedroom at Goldenleaf Manor pressed around me, but the feeling of determined anger lingered.

    Iy awake until dawn, my resolve hardening with each passing hour.

    Shaw Corp would not be erased. I would not allow it.

    "Find out Samuel Griffin¡¯s preferences," I instructed Rachel as we drove toward Shaw Tower the next morning. "You¡¯l personally oversee all arrangements for him these next few days. Don¡¯t worry about the cost-just make sure he¡¯s satisfied."

    Rachel hesitated, her fingers hovering over her tablet. "Ms. Shaw, I discovered something else. There¡¯s someone in Skyview City he¡¯s... involved with. Apparently, she apanies him whenever he visits.

    She¡¯s quite a well-known socialite here, though you two move in different circles so you¡¯ve never crossed paths."

    I immediately looked up, my interest piqued. "Who?"

    "Nora Price."

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "Nora would be perfect for entertaining Samuel Griffin," I mused . "Her poise, her ability to navigate even the most awkward social situations..." I trailed off, already mentally calcting how to approach her.

    Rachel cleared her throat softly. "There might be a slight problem with that n, Ms. Shaw. ording to her social media, Ms. Price left for Paris yesterday. Fashion Week. She won¡¯t be back for at least three days."

    I let out an exasperated sigh. "Of course she did. Nothing can ever be simple, can it?" I drummed my fingers against the desk, recalibrating. "Find someone else then. Someone sophisticated, beautiful, capable of handling delicate situations.

    We need to keep Samuel Griffin thoroughly entertained while he¡¯s in Skyview City."

    Rachel nodded, already typing notes.

    "T¡¯llpile a shortlist by this afternoon."

    "Good. Now, for the quarterly meeting _"

    My phone vibrated against the desk, the screen lighting up with an iing call. The name disyed made my stomach drop: Samuel Griffin.

    I nced at the conference room visible through my office¡¯s ss wall, where Daniel Davis was already organizing the quarterly review meeting. Perfect timing, as always.

    "I need to take this," I told Rachel, waving her toward the door. "Tell Daniel to start without me."

    As soon as Rachel left, I took a deep breath,posed myself, and answered with my most professionally pleasant voice. "Mr. Grifin, what a pleasant surprise."

    "Is it?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Because I¡¯m not feeling particrly pleasant at the moment.

    The amodation your assistant arranged is... disappointing."

    I bit back a retort. Rachel had booked him into one of Skyview City¡¯s most exclusive boutique hotels. "I¡¯m terribly sorry to hear that. We can certainly arrange alternative lodging. Perhaps the Sapphire Sky Hotel? Their presidential suite is quite spectacr."

    "It¡¯s not about the money, Ms. Shaw." I could practically hear him rolling his eyes. "I¡¯s about hospitality. You extend an invitation to discuss business, yet you pawn me off on hotel staff rather than showing proper courtesy yourself."

    *This entitled asshole.* I kept my expression neutral even though he couldn¡¯t see me.

    "Jack Simpson called yesterday," he continued casually. "Invited me for drinks to discuss Skke District. Very attentive, wouldn¡¯t you say?"

    My grip tightened on the phone. The message couldn¡¯t have been clearer: y by my rules, or I¡¯ll take my business to Simpson Group.

    "You¡¯re absolutely right, Mr. Griffin.

    My hospitality has beencking." I smoothed my voice into something conciliatory. "¡¯a be happy toe by personally. What time would be convenient for you?"

    "Now would be good," he replied without hesitation.

    I nced at the conference room, where executives were already settling in for the meeting I was supposed to lead. "Of course. I¡¯ll be there shortly.

    And I¡¯ll bring some exceptional wine from my personal collection."

    "Perfect."

    "T¡¯ll see you soon," I said, already nning my strategy as I hung up.

    My expression hardened the moment the call ended. Samuel Griffin wasn¡¯t just testing my interest in a potential partnership¡ªhe was testing the limits of what I would tolerate.

    I nced at the conference room again. Rachel was out running errands, and Daniel was busy with the meeting.

    Who could I bring along? Going alone was out of the question.

    *Sean.*

    I headed to my office¡¯s discreet liquor cab, selecting two bottles of the premium vintage I¡¯d been saving for a special asion. Then I grabbed my purse and keys, shooting a quick text to Sean asking him to meet me at the Phoenix project office in fifteen minutes.

    When I pulled up to the Phoenix building, Sean was already waiting outside, looking impable in his tailored suit.

    "Get in," I instructed as I stopped the car.

    Sean slid into the passenger seat without question.

    "Samuel Griffin is being difficult," I exined as I pulled back into traffic.

    "He wants me to personally entertain him at his hotel. We¡¯re going there now."

    "The Heritage Group heir?" Sean¡¯s eyebrows rose slightly. "I¡¯ve heard he can be... challenging."

    I let out a shortugh. "That¡¯s putting it mildly. He¡¯s arrogant, entitled, and absolutely crucial to our ns for Skke District. So we¡¯re going to smile and be charming, no matter what."

    Sean nodded, eyes forward as I navigated through downtown traffic.

    "I may need to drink with him," I continued, my voice taking on a more serious tone. "You¡¯re not there to help me avoid alcohol-that would only insult him. You¡¯re there for my safety and to ensure I get home afterward.

    Understood?"

    "Completely, Ms. Shaw."

    When Samuel Griffin opened the door to his presidential suite at the hotel, he was wearing nothing but a white hotel towel wrapped loosely around his waist. His hair was wet, droplets of water still clinging to his broad shoulders, making it abundantly clear he¡¯d just stepped out of the shower.

    I kept my smile firmly in ce, refusing to show even a flicker of difort. "Mr. Griffin, I hope we¡¯re not interrupting." I extended the wine bottles toward him like a peace offering.

    His eyes moved from me to Sean, lingering on him with obvious assessment before his lips curved into a smirk. "Bringing reinforcements, Ms Shaw? Your reputation for poor alcohol tolerance must be well-earned."

    I maintained my pleasant expression.

    "This is Sean Smith, my assistant. He¡¯s driving today."

    Samuel stepped aside to let us enter, making no move to dress more appropriately. "What happened to the other guy? The one who had me thrown out of the charity g? You seem to change malepanions quite frequently."

    I took a slow breath, keeping my voice level. "That was Marcus Murphy, a family elder. He¡¯s my little uncle."

    "Little uncle?" Samuel repeated with exaggerated interest, his eyes drifting to Sean. "And this one? Another rtive? Ms. Shaw?"

    "Mr. Smith is my assistant," I repeated calmly. "He¡¯s responsible for driving and carrying things." I set my purse down on a nearby table. "But you¡¯re right about appreciating aesthetics, Mr. Griffin. I believe we share that quality.

    Your reputation precedes you."

    He nodded disapprovingly, then ripped off his swimming towel in front of me, turning to walk toward the indoor pool that dominated one side of the massive suite.

    "Care to join me for a swim?" he called over his shoulder.

    I kept my eyes carefully fixed on his face. "I¡¯m afraid I didn¡¯t bring a swimsuit. Perhaps I can prepare some tea while you enjoy your swim?"

    He shrugged, diving gracefully into the water. "Suit yourself."

    I exhaled slowly once he was in the pool, recalling what Trevor Torres had mentioned about Samuel Griffin: *He pushes boundaries constantly, but he knows exactly where the line is. He¡¯ll never cross it, just dance right along the edge.*

    The sound of a knock at the door came as a wee interruption. Hotel staff entered with a rolling cart of lunch and wine. I directed them to set up near the pool area but intercepted the server who was about to ce a vase of red roses as the centerpiece.

    "No roses, thank you," I said quietly, handing the arrangement back.

    As the staff departed, Samuel emerged from the pool, toweling his hair dry but once again wearing only the hotel towel around his waist. Watching him approach, something strange happened ¡ªa sh of memory hit me so suddenly I almost gasped.

    *A different suite. A different man.

    Stepping out of a bathroom, towel around his waist, water droplets on powerful shoulders.*

 Chapter 40: Whiskey & Power Plays

    <h4>Chapter 40: Whiskey & Power ys</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Standing before me, Samuel Griffin was undeniably fit, his physique speaking to regr workouts and a disciplined lifestyle. His arms looked powerful, his abdominal muscles well-defined beneath droplets of water that clung to his skin.

    I quickly averted my eyes, focusing instead on arranging the wine bottles on the table with steady hands that belied my inner turmoil. *Could Samuel possibly be..?* No, that was absurd. The timing, the build, the height... it could be pure coincidence.

    But the seed of suspicion had been nted, and I couldn¡¯t shake it.

    "How often do you visit Skyview City, Mr. Griffin?" I asked, keeping my tone conversational as I uncorked one of the bottles.

    Samuel raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. "Why the sudden interest in my travel schedule, Ms. Shaw? nning to arrange more *attentive* hospitality for my future visits?"

    His deliberate emphasis on "attentive" made my skin crawl, but I maintained my pleasant smile. "Just curious. For someone based in Sovereign City, you seem quite familiar with Skyview."

    He didn¡¯t answer directly, merely epting the ss of wine I offered.

    ¡¯This hotel has quite decent facilities, don¡¯t you think? Though their service leaves much to be desired."

    I noticed Samuel¡¯s face darkening when he saw the flowers on the table.

    "Can¡¯t this hotel even fulfill a customer¡¯s requests?" His tone turned sharp, genuine annoyance breaking through his carefully calcted demeanor.

    Before he could berate the server, I smoothly intervened. "I¡¯m allergic to roses, so I asked the staff not to ce roses. It¡¯s entirely my fault for not mentioning it earlier," I said softly.

    "Allergic?" he repeated once we were alone again. "How convenient."

    Samuel finally moved to the dining table, gesturing for me to join him.

    Sean positioned himself discreetly by the door, his presence both reassuring and necessary. I¡¯d never been more grateful for hispany.

    "So, Ms. Shaw," Samuel began as we settled into our meal, "tell me about your personal life. Do you have a boyfriend? Husband? Significant other of some description?"

    I nearly choked on my wine at the abrupt change of subject. "I don¡¯t see how that¡¯s relevant to our business discussions."

    "Indulge me," he insisted, cutting into his steak with precise movements. "I like to know who I¡¯m dealing with."

    "I¡¯m currently single," I answered simply, seeing no reason to lie about something so easily verified.

    Samuelughed, the soundcking genuine mirth. "Of course you are.

    Women like you-corporate sharks in stilettos-rarely maintain rtionships.

    No man wants topete with a boardroom for attention. You should know how to use your advantages, understand?"

    "Business and pleasure needn¡¯t be mutually exclusive," he continued suggestively, his eyes deliberately wandering over me in a way that made my skin crawl. "In fact, I find they oftenplement each other quite... satisfyingly."

    The implication was too obvious. My grip tightened on my knife, but my expression remained pleasantly neutral.

    "Are you suggesting what I think you¡¯re suggesting, Mr. Griffin?" I asked directly, setting down my utensils and meeting his gaze. "That if I sleep with you, you¡¯ll help me secure the Skke District project?"

    "Always straight to the point, aren¡¯t you? I admire that." He took a leisurely sip of his wine. "But yes, that¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m suggesting. It¡¯s a simple exchange. You give me something I want, I give you something you want."

    I leaned back in my chair, studying him with a detached curiosity that seemed to unsettle him slightly. "For the Skke District project?" I let out a small, deliberateugh. "Mr. Griffin, I¡¯m afraid you severely overestimate the value of a single night¡¯spany.

    If I were to make such a trade, it would have to be for something far more significant than a mere real estate development."

    I saw surprise sh across his face before he masked it with another smirk.

    "You¡¯re an interesting woman, Anna Shaw," Samuel finally said. "Most would have either pped me or eagerly epted by now."

    "I¡¯m not most women," I replied simply. "And the Skke District, while important to me, isn¡¯t worth that particr sacrifice."

    Something like genuine respect flickered across his features. "Fair enough. But securing my investment won¡¯t be easy either. I have standards."

    I smiled. "Then I suggest you take your time to properly evaluate Shaw Corp¡¯s potential. You can slowly assess my sincerity, Mr. Griffin."

    "Perhaps," he conceded, finishing his wine. "But for now, how about you show me around Skyview City?"

    "Ms. Shaw has meetings this afternoon," Sean interjected smoothly from his position by the door.

    Samuel¡¯s lips twitched in a slight sneer,pletely ignoring Sean: "Anna, your sincerity doesn¡¯t seem very impressive."

    "Cancel them. I¡¯ll apany Mr. Griffin," I decided immediately.

    Samuel¡¯s smile widened. "Excellent.

    Give me a few minutes to change."

    As soon as he disappeared into the bedroom, I turned away, pulling out my phone and dialing Rachel¡¯s number.

    "Rachel," I whispered urgently when she answered. "I need you to look into Samuel Griffin¡¯s travel schedule for the past two months. Every visit to Skyview City, every hotel he¡¯s stayed at."

    I need to figure out whether Samuel is actually that man from 3303.

    If he is, then this Samuel is quite frightening. What if he has some kind of ulterior motive...

    Now is not the time for wild guesses. I steady my nerves, deciding to wait until Rachel confirms everything.

    After a while, Samuel came out.Baseball jacket, sneakers, dressed very casually.

    I stepped forward and asked, "Should I make arrangements or do you have somewhere in mind?"

    Samuel put his hands in his pockets:

    "Follow me."

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I stared at the converted warehouse before me, its industrial fa?ade illuminated by flickering electric blue neon lights. This was definitely not the upscale venue I had expected Samuel Griffin to choose.

    "A pool hall?" I asked, unable to keep the surprise from my voice as I adjusted my zer - suddenly acutely aware of how out of ce my attire would be inside.

    Samuel shed me that insufferable smirk of his. "Disappointed? I thought corporate sharks in stilettos liked to slum it asionally."

    I ignored his bait and followed him through the heavy metal door. The moment we entered, my senses were assaulted by the cacophony of rock music ring from speakers, the sharp crack of pool balls colliding, and the distinctive smell of beer, leather, and motor oil.

    The space was a strange juxtaposition of elements -vintage motorcycles disyed like museum pieces between pool tables, while the industrial ceiling remained exposed, with iron rafters from which hung various motorcycle parts that had been converted into light fixtures. The second floor overlooked the main area through wire mesh barriers, where a small crowd of leather-d enthusiasts were headbanging to the music.

    I¡¯d never been anywhere remotely like this ce, and despite myself, I felt a spark of curiosity.

    "Who the hell came in?" someone shouted over the music.

    Samuel didn¡¯t answer, just sauntered in with an irritating swagger. I followed behind him, taking in the environment. At the far end was a well-stocked bar where several women with dreadlocks and leather skirts sat drinking and scrolling through their phones.

    As we moved deeper into the space, I became increasingly aware of the stares. Like a monkey in a zoo, I was the main attraction - a woman in a tailored suit amid a sea of leather and denim.

    Surprisingly, Samuel Griffin, heir to Heritage Group, seemed perfectly at home here. He nced back at me, clearly expecting me to be intimidated, but found only curiosity in my expression.

    "Holy shit, if it isn¡¯t Griffin!" A man with bleached blond hair leapt over a pool table and grabbed Samuel in a rough embrace after fist-bumping him.

    "Long time no see, man. Can¡¯t believe you still remember us little people."

    "That¡¯s why I¡¯m here, aren¡¯t I?" Samuel responded easily.

    The blond man looked me over, clearly impressed. "New girlfriend? Griffin, you lucky bastard, they just keep getting prettier."

    Samuel didn¡¯t bother to correct him, just tilted his head toward me.

    "Weren¡¯t you going to drink with me?

    Let¡¯s go."

    I sighed inwardly. I¡¯d hoped Samuel wouldn¡¯t try to get me drunk, but clearly, that had been his n all along. People started cheering, and within moments, the bar waspletely cleared for us. Even the rock musicians upstairs put down their guitars to peer through the wire mesh at the spectacle.

    Samuel leaned against the bar, his smile devilish. "Ms. Shaw, now let¡¯s see just how sincere you really are."

    I wanted to scratch that handsome face of his, but considering I¡¯d just had my nails done, I decided against it. If he wanted to drink, we¡¯d drink. This bastard could try his best to get me drunk. But I wouldn¡¯t be drinking for nothing.

    "Mr. Griffin, I¡¯ve brought an agreement." I pulled a folder from my bag, deciding to be direct. "Let¡¯s be clear-if I drink with you today, you¡¯ll sign it, correct?"

    Samuel looked slightly surprised, a sh of respect crossing his features.

    "Already trying to get me to sign a contract? Ms. Shaw, aren¡¯t you overestimating yourself?"

    I smiled back. "Mr. Griffin, surely you realize you¡¯re not my only option. I¡¯m simply trying to avoid owing favors, which is why I¡¯m seeking alternate partnerships."

    Samuel narrowed his eyes, and I knew he¡¯d investigated my connections to the Murphy family.

    "It¡¯s not professional favors you¡¯re trying to avoid, it¡¯s personal entanglements, isn¡¯t it?" Samuel taunted. "Ms. Shaw, Skyview City¡¯s celebrated female CEO-you¡¯ve got an uncle and his nephew, an ex-husband and a potential lover, all wrapped around your finger."

    That infuriated me internally, as if I¡¯d deliberately seduced Marcus and Jack.

    My smile faded, but I maintained myposure.

    "Just as you enjoy games with willing participants, Mr. Griffin, I do business with principles," I stated firmly. "Don¡¯t try to provoke me. Even without Uncle Marcus, without you, I¡¯m confident others would be willing to venture with me. Because while many people like you are interested in Skke District, there¡¯s only one historic building."

    Samuel¡¯s eyes shed with what seemed like appreciation for my response.

    I grew tired of our verbal sparring. My gaze swept over the row of already opened bottles on the bar, and without another word, I grabbed one and started drinking.

    The crowd erupted in cheers as I drained one bottle after another. By the end, the world was spinning around me. I leaned against the bar, my consciousness bing hazy, not noticing the sudden silence that fell over the room.

    After finishing thest bottle, I carelessly tossed it aside, slurring, "More... bring more alcohol."

    Suddenly, my body was lifted into someone¡¯s arms. I opened my eyes, unable to focus properly, and saw a familiar figure wavering before me.

    "Hmm, I think I see... Uncle Marcus," I mumbled groggily, feeling an unexpected warmth and dependence wash over me.

 Chapter 41: Scars Beneath the Surface

    <h4>Chapter 41: Scars Beneath the Surface</h4>

    Jack¡¯s POV

    The door to my office flew open with unusual urgency. Pax, my assistant, burst in without his typical measuredposure.

    "Mr. Simpson, we¡¯ve located Mr. Griffin." His voice carried a tension that immediately captured my attention.

    My heartbeat quickened despite my efforts to remain outwardly calm.

    "Where is he?"

    Pax hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other¡ªa nervous tell I¡¯d rarely seen from him. That split-second pause triggered an immediate sense of foreboding.

    "Mr. Griffin arrived in Skyview City and checked into Golden Ember Hotel, but he¡¯s just left the premises with..." He paused again, clearly ufortable with whatever he was about to reveal.

    "With Ms. Shaw."

    "Anna?" The name escaped my lips before I could contain it. A torrent of questions flooded my mind, none of them yieldingfortable answers. My voice rose involuntarily. "What the hell is she doing with him? Are you absolutely certain?"

    Pax nodded quickly, clearly sensing my growing agitation. "Positive, sir. They were also apanied by Sean Smith as the driver."

    At the mention of Sean, something hot and vtile ignited in my chest. "Let¡¯s go," I ordered, my voice dropping to an icymand.

    When we arrived at the bar, I saw Marcus carrying Anna as he walked out. Her eyes were closed, her hair and clothes soaked with the smell of alcohol, her bodypletely limp in his arms. Her eyes were closed, her hair and clothes drenched, her entire body emanating the smell of alcohol,pletely limp in his arms.

    "Uncle Marcus," I called out, my voice steadier than I felt.

    He acknowledged me with a brief nod as he passed, but didn¡¯t slow his stride. In his arms, Anna looked smaller, more vulnerable than I¡¯d ever seen her. Her face was pale, a strand of wet hair stered across her cheek.

    The sight of her in such a state sent a surge of protective rage through me that I hadn¡¯t felt in years.

    Samuel Griffin approached with that infuriating smirk that made me want to rearrange his face.

    "Mr. Simpson, what a surprise," he drawled, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "Too bad your uncle got here first. Quite the shining knight, isn¡¯t he?"

    Something in me snapped. Before I could even process what I was doing, my fist connected with his jaw, the impact sending a satisfying shock up my arm. I grabbed him by his shirt cor, yanking him close enough that I could smell the whiskey on his breath.

    "You bastard," I snarled, my voice barely recognizable even to my own ears. "You dared to get her drunk?

    What the hell were you trying to do?"

    My knuckles ached, but the fury pumping through me drowned out any pain. All I could see was Anna¡¯s helpless form in my uncle¡¯s arms, and all I could think was that this man was responsible.

    Pax rushed forward, his voice urgent.

    "Mr. Simpson, please let go of Mr. Griffin. This isn¡¯t the ce-"

    I ignored him, my grip on Griffin¡¯s cor tightening. Griffin, to my increasing rage, actually ughed*¡ªa soft, mocking sound that made me want to hit him again.

    "Such a temper," he taunted, eyes flicking toward the door where Marcus had disappeared with Anna. "Look at your uncle-so mature, soposed.

    No wonder she prefers hispany to yours."

    That was a deliberate jab, and we both knew it. Griffin¡¯s smug expression told me he understood the dynamics between Anna, Marcus, and me far better than he should have. This wasn¡¯t a random encounter-he¡¯de prepared.

    I shoved him away with disgust. "Stay away from Anna," I warned, my voice dropping to an icy growl. "If you go near her again, you¡¯ll regret it."

    I turned on my heel, suddenly desperate to check on Anna, to make sure she was alright.

    Pax hurried after me, panic evident in his voice. "Mr. Simpson, you just assaulted Mr. Griffin! Your father will ¡ª"

    "I don¡¯t care," I cut him off, pushing through the revolving door into the cool evening air. "Let him sue me if he wants to."

    Marcus¡¯s POV

    Anna¡¯s body felt impossibly light in my arms as I carried her from the bar to the waiting car. Her head lolled against my chest, the scent of whiskey clinging to her clothes and hair. Even through the overwhelming smell of alcohol, I could detect traces of her perfume-subtle and elegant, just like her.

    I slid into the back seat, deliberately keeping her in my arms rather than setting her beside me. Sean sat stifly in the passenger seat, his eyes carefully avoiding the rearview mirror. Smart man. He seemed to understand that looking back would be crossing a line.

    Anna stirred slightly, her face pressing against my neck as she mumbled something incoherent. The feeling of her warm breath against my skin sent a jolt of possessiveness through me. I tightened my hold instinctively, drawing her closer.

    "Drive to Rosa Vi, " I instructed, my

    voice betraying none of theplex emotions churning inside me.

    When we reached our destination, Peter silently opened the car door.

    "Ms. Shaw has people who can take care of her," Sean said from beside the car, a hint of caution in his voice. "I should stay with her."

    Peter stepped forward before I could respond. "Ms. Shaw has people to care for her here," he stated firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You may go now."

    Sean hesitated, then finally extracted a small package from his pocket.

    "This contains Ms. Shaw¡¯s sobering medicine," he said, handing it to Peter.

    "She¡¯ll need it when she wakes up.

    Please take good care of her."

    "Your nephew is here," Peter informed me quietly as I gentlyid Anna on the bed.

    I frowned, my fingers lingering as I brushed a strand of hair from her face.

    Jack¡¯s timing was impable as always -and entirely unwee.

    "Tell him Ms. Shaw is asleep," I replied coldly, my eyes never leaving Anna¡¯s face.

    I carefully removed her shoes, then pulled theforter over her sleeping form. She looked peaceful now, the tension that usually marked her featurespletely absent in slumber.

    My hand moved of its own ord, gently tracing the delicate curve of her cheek with my fingertips.

    I knew I should leave, give her privacy. Yet I found myself sitting in a chair not far from the bed, content to simply watch over her as she slept.

    Jack¡¯s POV

    I sat alone in the back seat of my car.

    My knuckles throbbed, a dull reminder of their recent connection with Samuel Griffin¡¯s jaw. The satisfaction that had momentarily red through me had already begun to fade, reced by the cold reality of what I¡¯d just done.

    *What the hell was I thinking?*

    Pax cleared his throat from the front seat, his eyes catching mine in the rearview mirror before quickly darting away. He was worried-and rightfully so. I¡¯d just assaulted the heir to Heritage Group in public, potentially sabotaging Simpson Group¡¯s business interests in one impulsive moment.

    "Mr. Simpson," he began hesitantly,

    "regarding Mr. Griffin..."

    I noted the uncertainty in his voice, the carefully measured concern. Pax had always been steady, reliable. The fact that even he seemed unsettled by my actions spoke volumes about the severity of my misstep.

    "I know, Pax. I was out of line," I admitted, massaging my temple as the image of Anna¡¯s limp body in my uncle¡¯s arms shed through my mind again. The sight had ignited something primal in me, a protective rage I hadn¡¯t felt in years. But now, with the adrenaline ebbing away, all I could think about were the consequences.

    "My father is going to be furious."

    The Skke District partnership with Heritage Group¡ªa cornerstone of our expansion strategy¡ªnow hung by a thread. My father had spent months cultivating that rtionship, and I¡¯d potentially destroyed it with one punch. Not to mention the way Marcus had stepped in, soposed and authoritative, making me look like a reckless hothead inparison.

    "You realize what this means for the East Lake project, right?" I voiced the concern that weighed heaviest on my mind. "Our entire approach with the Sovereign City investors..."

    *Ruined. All because I couldn¡¯t control myself when it came to Anna.*

    "Sir, would you like me to go apologize to Mr. Griffin personally?" Pax offered, always thinking three steps ahead.

    "Perhaps with an appropriate gift..."

    "Yes," I said firmly, cutting him off.

    "Take care of it tonight. Make it substantial."

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Sunlight sliced through the curtains, mercilesslynding across my face. I groaned, immediately regretting the sound as waves of pain rippled through my skull. My eyes squinted open reluctantly, taking in the familiar decor and furnishings as I gradually recognized I was at Rosa Vi.

    I blinked several times, piecing together fragmented memories from the night before. Samuel Griffin¡¯s taunting face. Bottles lined up on a bar. The thunderous cheers of leather-d bikers. And then... Marcus? Had I really seen Marcus at that pool hall, or was my alcohol-soaked brain ying tricks on me?

    Beside the bed stood a small table with a pitcher of water, a ss, and two pills that I recognized as my preferred hangover remedy. A folded towel and a fresh change of clothes sat neatly on a nearby chair. Someone had taken meticulous care of me.

    As I pushed myself up to sitting position, a fresh wave of nausea forced me back down. I pressed my palms against my throbbing temples, fragments of memories shing behind my closed eyelids-Samuel¡¯s smug face as I drained bottle after bottle, the roar of the crowd, the world tilting sideways, and finally, the sensation of being carried in strong arms.

    I tried to clear my head and only then noticed that Marcus had been sitting in a chair in the corner of the room the whole time, with aptop in front of him, apparently working. Seeing that I was awake, his expression softened.

    "You¡¯re up," he observed, closing hisptop and standing to walk toward me, his voice deliberately low as if he understood exactly how fragile my head felt. "How are you feeling?"

    "Like someone¡¯s using my brain for a drum solo." I managed a weak smile, reaching for the pills and water. "Was it you who brought me back?"

    "Yes." His voice remained gentle as he poured me a cup of tea that smelled faintly of ginger and honey. The temperature was perfect-hot enough to soothe but not scalding.

    He handed me the tea, which I epted gratefully. "Thank you," I murmured, taking a small sip. The warm liquid eased its way down my throat, bringing unexpectedfort.

    "Uncle Marcus, how did you know toe to that pool hall?" I asked, studying his face carefully.

    "Not just me. Jack was there too." He replied calmly.

    My eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Jack was there for Samuel, but why were you there?"

    Marcus sat in the chair beside the bed, maintaining a respectful distance. "I was concerned about you," he admitted simply. "I¡¯ve had people watching over you."

    The revtion should have made me angry, but all I felt was a confusing mix of irritation and warmth. "You¡¯ve been having me followed?"

    "Protected," he corrected immediately, his voice firm. "Whoever stabbed me is still out there."

    I looked away, processing this unexpected information. Although the feeling of being monitored wasn¡¯t pleasant, Marcus was only thinking about my safety.

    "You didn¡¯t need to worry. I had Sean with me, and Samuel wouldn¡¯t have done anything to harm me." Even as I said it, I wasn¡¯t entirely convinced of

    my own words.

    "Are you certain?" Marcus leveled his prating gaze at me. "Do you really know what kind of man Samuel Griffin is?"

    I hesitated, mentally cataloging what I knew. "Heritage Group heir, notorious yboy, business prodigy with as many sessful projects as rumored girlfriends."

    Then it suddenly dawned on me.

    "Uncle Marcus, do you suspect Samuel was behind your attack?" My heart rate elerated at the thought.

    "It¡¯s unclear," he answered, his expression guarded. "But his behavior yesterday was strange, almost as if he deliberately lured Jack and me there."

    "Why would he do that?" I asked, bewildered.

    Marcus¡¯s eyes held mine, his gaze intense. "To make us jealous over you."

    The bluntness of his statement caught me off guard. I swallowed hard, pretending not to hear him.

    I changed the subject, "Whatever he¡¯s doing, his target is the Skke District project."

    "So you¡¯d rather risk dealing with someone like Samuel than partner with me?" Marcus¡¯s voice had softened, but I didn¡¯t miss the hurt beneath his words.

    "Uncle Marcus..." I began, struggling to find the right words. "I just can¡¯t ept your feelings. It¡¯s not because there¡¯s anything wrong with you, it¡¯s just that..."

    "Because I¡¯m older and you see me as family?" His eyes revealed a vulnerability I rarely witnessed in him -hope mingled with insecurity.

    "No, that¡¯s not it." I hurried to correct him, fearing I¡¯d wounded him more deeply than intended. "You¡¯re only seven or eight years older than me, that¡¯s nothing. And you¡¯re certainly not old ¡ªquite the opposite, you¡¯re incredibly handsome and distinguished."

    I didn¡¯t dare admit that he was exactly my type.

    I paused, formting my thoughts carefully. "Since my divorce, I haven¡¯t wanted another rtionship. I just want to focus on thepany, to take care of my mother and grandmother the way my father would have wanted.

    I¡¯m sorry, I can¡¯t ept your feelings, nor can I ept your kindness. I¡¯ll work hard topete for the Skke District project. If I can secure it, I will; if I really can¡¯t, then there¡¯s nothing I can do. In any case, I¡¯ll do my best to preserve the historic mansion."

    "I understand," Marcus said after a moment, his expressionposed once more. "I won¡¯t pressure you."

    I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me. "Thank you, Uncle Marcus. I appreciate your understanding."

    "As for Samuel," he continued, switching back to business mode seamlessly, "don¡¯t rush into anything.

    I¡¯ll_"

    Later, I walked into the master bathroom, sighing with relief as I submerged myself in the warm water.

    The heat worked its magic on my aching muscles, releasing tension I hadn¡¯t even realized I was carrying.

    Samuel Griffin had yed me, and all that alcohol wasn¡¯t drunk for nothing ¡ªmy head and stomach were still aching. I decided I wouldn¡¯t suffer this pain for nothing.

    I reached for my phone beside the tub and dialed Samuel¡¯s number.

 Chapter 42: The Party

    <h4>Chapter 42: The Party</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "Awake?" Samuel¡¯s somewhat excited voice came through the phone, the music in the background softer but still clearly audible.

    Hearing that simple "awake," I immediately realized Marcus was right ¡ªthis bastard had deliberately gotten me drunk, luring Marcus and Jack to the bar. His tone was infuriatingly smug, filled with obvious malice. I bit my lip but decided not to let him see my anger.

    "I tricked you into drinking with me.

    Did your uncle scold you?" he asked with fake concern.

    I refused to let him treat me like his entertainment. Suppressing my rage, I deliberately softened my voice: "Mr. Griffin, I certainly did drink as promised. I wonder if you felt my sincerity?" I reminded him of our deal.

    "I felt your sincerity, but it¡¯s not enough," he replied, the dismissiveness in his tone making my blood boil.

    He clearly had no intention of honoring our agreement. I¡¯d anticipated this, but I¡¯d still won this round. I wouldn¡¯t let him see my disappointment.

    "As long as you felt it, that¡¯s fine. I¡¯m not in a hurry," I kept my face impassive, though my voice remained intentionally friendly. "Are you out drinking, Mr. Griffin? I can rmend a truly excellent ce.

    Olympus Club is very famous in Skyview City. Feel free to go and spend as much as you like-put it on my ount." I already had a n forming in my mind.

    After hanging up, Rachel entered the room.

    "Ms. Shaw, will Mr. Griffin go to Olympus Club?" she inquired.

    "Yes," I answered briefly, my mind already working through the next steps.

    "That¡¯s good. I¡¯ve already made arrangements at Olympus, Ms. Shaw.

    Please don¡¯t worry," Rachel¡¯s words brought me relief¡ªshe was always reliable.

    "By the way, Ms. Shaw, I heard that Mr. Simpson punched Mr. Griffin today," she suddenly mentioned, catching me off guard.

    "Punched him?" I asked in surprise.

    "Isn¡¯t the Simpson family trying to connect with Heritage Group? Why would he punch Samuel?" This made no sense.

    "Apparently it was because of you, Ms. Shaw. Mr. Griffin got you drunk, and Mr. Simpson became angry."

    Hearing Rachel¡¯s words, I felt a momentary flutter in my chest, but quickly shook my head, reminding myself, "What Jack does has nothing to do with us."

    That evening when I went downstairs at Rosa Vi, I saw that Marcus was still awake, with Peter Reed changing his bandages.

    "Uncle Marcus, your wound still hasn¡¯t healed?" I asked with concern.

    Peter nced at me: "Miss Shaw, Mr. Murphy¡¯s wound opened again today."

    "How did it open ag-" I stopped mid-sentence, my face suddenly burning. Iughed awkwardly: "Uncle Marcus, your injury really is having a tough time healing, isn¡¯t it?"

    Marcus¡¯s deep eyes met mine: "If a certain someone would behave, my wound would heal faster." His tone carried a hint of that familiar teasing I¡¯de to recognize.

    As Peter finished the bandaging, my gaze inadvertently fell on the skin visible beneath Marcus¡¯s ck silk robe hanging loosely on his body.

    "What are you looking at?" he quickly noticed my stare and swiftly adjusted his clothing.

    "Uncle Marcus, is that a birthmark or a scar on your shoulder?" I couldn¡¯t help asking, curious about the mark roughly the size of a quarter.

    Marcus gave me a long look before buttoning his robe, his tone t: "A scar."

    In that moment, I felt a flutter of awe, thinking of the various rumors about him-this man had reportedly faced down criminal organizations overseas.

    "Uncle Marcus, you¡¯ve had that scar for many years, haven¡¯t you?" I asked carefully.

    He looked at me deeply again: "Yes."

    His brief answer contained an unwillingness to discuss it further, so I didn¡¯t press the issue.

    The next day, I toured the historic building in Skke District with restoration experts. Walking through the rooms, I felt a powerful connection to my mother¡¯s childhood memories.

    One expert pointed to the ceiling.

    "These are quite rare now. If you want to maintain the historical integrity of the building, we should preserve as many of these elements as possible."

    "Whatever it takes," I replied without hesitation. "I want this ce restored to its original glory. Spare no expense."

    When we finished touring the house, my phone rang with an iing call.

    Samuel Griffin again.

    "Ms. Shaw," his voice was unnervingly cheerful. "¡¯ve been thinking about our conversation. Perhaps I was a bit harsh yesterday."

    I kept my tone neutral: "What can I do for you, Mr. Griffin?"

    "I¡¯ve been enjoying your hospitality at Olympus Club. But I¡¯m quite bored being alone."

    An idea began forming in my mind.

    "How about a wee party for you?

    I could host it, introduce you to some of Skyview City¡¯s prominent figures."

    "That sounds perfect," he replied, the smirk almost audible in his voice.

    After ending the call, I immediately dialed Rachel.

    "Arrange a wee party for Samuel Griffin at Olympus Club," I instructed.

    "Send invitations to everyone who matters in Skyview City. Let¡¯s see who shows up."

    Jack¡¯S POV

    I stood in my father¡¯s study as he fumed over the invitation that arrived today. The cardy on his desk like a deration of war.

    "What happened with Griffin? Weren¡¯t you watching him? How did Anna Shaw get to him first?" Father¡¯s face turned purple as he red at me.

    I felt irritated but kept my expression neutral. "Sean Smith introduced them.

    I didn¡¯t know he knew Griffin. They connected right after Griffin arrived."

    Mother snatched the invitation. "This is a challenge to the Simpson family!

    Who does Anna think she is, hosting a wee party for Samuel Griffin at Olympus Club?" Her voice rose sharply. "She¡¯s announcing their partnership to all of Skyview City!"

    Father ignored her outburst, his eyes fixed on me. "Fix this, Jack. Heritage Group is critical for our expansion in Sovereign City. We can¡¯t lose Griffin to Shaw Corp."

    I nodded. "I understand. I¡¯ll speak with Griffin again."

    "Speaking isn¡¯t enough." Father¡¯s voice dropped. "Win him over. Whatever it takes."

    He paused, "As for Anna Shaw, bring her to our side if possible. If that proves impossible..." His eyes met mine. "Then we¡¯ll need to take extraordinary measures."

    Anna¡¯s POV

    The party at the Olympus Club was ready to go. The borate event wasn¡¯t just to wee Samuel Griffin, it was to draw out the man behind the stabbing of Marcus Murphy.

    The thought of Marcus¡¯s wounds made my heart pound like iron.Someone in Skyview City¡¯s elite circle had nned the attack, and my instincts told me that when they were faced with such an unexpected alliance between Shaw Corp and the Heritage Group, they were bound to show their hand tonight.

    My thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the first guests; Logan and Oscar Porter pushed through the door at the same time, followed by Catherine Murphy, whose designer gown somehow seemed both casually elegant and deliberately pretentious.

    "Anna!" said Oscar as he came towards me with open arms, trying to give me a hug, which I gracefully sidestepped." This ce looks fantastic. Are you trying to dwarf the Simpsons¡¯ dinner party?"

    Before I could answer, Catherine had frowned and stepped between us." You wouldn¡¯t even recognize Grace if she pped you upside the head, Porter.Shouldn¡¯t you be in the hospital sewing up other people¡¯s wounds?"

    The easy smile on Oscar¡¯s face immediately disappeared." My surgical skills are impable, thank you very much. Unlike some people-"

    "Uncle Marcus¡¯ wounds haven¡¯t healed by now," Catherine interrupted, her eyes narrowing dangerously." How do you have the nerve to show up at a party when a so-called doctor like you has patients who are still suffering?"

    I watch Oscar¡¯s face redden with irritation." That¡¯s not fair! I told him to rest and avoid strenuous activity. If he-"

    "If he what?" Catherine challenged, crossing her arms.

    I sighed, watching these two near-thirty-year-olds turn into children before my eyes." Can we just act like adults tonight? The guests will be here any minute."

    Catherine wasn¡¯t finished." Fat girl, I¡¯m not done. You can question my character all you want, but never my medical skills."

    I could see the mischievous glint in Oscar¡¯s eye when he heard the childhood nickname.Catherine-now a stunning woman with a perfect body-had obviously never lost her sensitivity to being called a "fat girl."

    "Don¡¯t you dare," she hissed, clenching her hands into fists.

    "Fat girl, fat girl, fat girl," Oscar taunted her in a sing-song voice that looked more like a five-year-old¡¯s than a respected doctor¡¯s.

    "I swear to God, I¡¯ll get you,"

    Catherine growls, taking a threatening step forward.

    I did some silent math: two people approaching thirty with abined mental age of about five. Perfect.

    "That¡¯s enough," I say firmly, physically getting between them." Catherine, why don¡¯t you help me greet my guests? Oscar, the bar needs your expert opinion on whiskey."

    Having temporarily separated these two warring parties, Catherine pulls me aside, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

    ?Where¡¯s Uncle Marcus? He¡¯ll be here, won¡¯t he?"

    I was too busy adjusting the floral decorations to avoid eye contact with her." I... Didn¡¯t invite him."

    "What?" Catherine¡¯s shock is real, her eyes wide." You¡¯re hosting such a major power struggle without the support of Uncle Marcus? Are you insane? All the important people in Skyview City will be here, observing which side they should choose in the battle for the Skke District."

    A pang of guilt twisted my chest. The truth is, I don¡¯t want Marcus anywhere near this party-especially when I suspect that the person who stabbed him might be among tonight¡¯s guests. I couldn¡¯t risk him getting hurt again because of me.

    "I can¡¯t always depend on your uncle," I said, forcing a casual tone." I need to be independent on my own."

    Catherine surveyed my face thoughtfully, then slowly broke into a smile." You have the audacity to throw

    a party like this that might even piss off half of Skyview City¡¯s elite, including my father. That¡¯s pretty bold." She gives a thumbs up." I respect you. But I still think you¡¯re crazy."

    Her approval warmed me and strengthened my resolve at the same time. I would find the culprits who hurt Marcus and make them pay.

    The club began to fill with Skyview City¡¯s young elite-the sons and daughters of powerful families, rising executives, and socialites eager to position themselves in the shifting powerndscape. I noticed a few faces that had been at the Simpson dinner, people who just a few days ago had sided with the Jacks and were now betting on both sides of the fence by attending my party.

    "Ms. Shaw, Mr. Griffin has arrived," Rachel whispers in my ear.

    I turned to see Samuel Griffin striding into the entrance with a stunning woman on his arm. She wore a tight silver gown that left little to the imagination, and her lustrous ck hair fell down her back like a waterfall. It took me a moment to recognize her as Mia, one of the most sought-after hostesses at Club Olympus.

    Samuel¡¯s arm wraps possessively around her waistline as he greets a few guests, looking like the man she just spent the night with. As he exchanges pleasantries with the Turners, I notice Mia slipping over to Rachel, who¡¯s standing by the pir.

    "He didn¡¯t touch me," I overhear Mia whisper eagerly to Rachel." Let me sleep in the guest room and told me not to tell anyone. And he froze for thirty seconds when he first saw me.

    He looked at me strangely - like he¡¯d seen a ghost. Do I look like someone he used to know?"

    I saw satisfaction sh in Rachel¡¯s eyes before her face returned to its professional mask. Of course - she specifically chose Mia because she looked like Samuel¡¯s first love. It was

    another carefully calcted move in ourplicated game.

    "It¡¯s great as long as he keeps you around," Rachel instructs softly." Stay sweet, keep him happy, and text me if anything important happens."

    Amotion in the entryway caught my attention.Jack Simpson had arrived, and Lucy Taylor was holding onto his arm like a life preserver. He takes that familiar long-legged stride that used to make my heart race. Now, as I watch him search the room and inevitably find me in the crowd, I feel nothing but cold transcendence.

    Samuel appeared beside me with a mischievous glint in his eye." Ms. Shaw, Mr. Simpson has arrived," he announces superfluously, studying my reaction.

    Jack walks toward us, standing beside me in a territorial stance that gives me goosebumps. I move away subtly, putting distance between us. We were divorced; he had no right to act like my husband.

    "Simpson and Shaw are such a great couple," Samuelments in an exaggeratedly innocent tone." I do wonder why such a perfect match would get divorced."

 Chapter 43: Locked with My Mistake

    <h4>Chapter 43: Locked with My Mistake</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I stood in the center of the grand banquet hall at Olympus Club, watching the tension between Jack Simpson and Samuel Griffin gradually escte. My meticulously nned party was slowly turning into a psychological battlefield, with Samuel deliberately provoking Jack at every opportunity.

    I quickly interjected: "Mr. Griffin, both Mr. Simpson and I aren¡¯t people who settle for less. Our divorce simply means we¡¯re both better off going our separate ways. Isn¡¯t that right, Mr. Simpson?"

    Something shed in Jack¡¯s eyes-hurt, perhaps, or anger-but he quickly masked it with a smile. "Ms. Shaw¡¯s personal affairs aren¡¯t any of your concern, Griffin." He took three flutes of champagne from a passing server¡¯s tray. "I¡¯mte. I believe that means I owe a penalty."

    Jack downed all three sses in session, his eyes never leaving Samuel¡¯s face.

    He set the empty sses on the table.

    Without another word, he walked away toward Logan at the other side of the room.

    "Your nephewcks his uncle¡¯s maturity," Samuel called out, loud enough for others to hear.

    Jack¡¯s back stiffened momentarily, but he didn¡¯t turn around.

    Samuel¡¯sment confirmed my suspicion-he knew far too much about the rtionships between Jack, Marcus, and me. He wasn¡¯t just testing waters; he was deliberately stirring trouble.

    The evening continued, with me moving between various groups. I raised my ss frequently, toasting to partnerships, prosperity, and other diplomatic titudes.

    Catherine caught my arm. "Don¡¯t get drunk again," she warned, "I won¡¯t take care of you if you pass out."

    Iughed. "That won¡¯t happen tonight."

    Logan approached, concern in his eyes:

    "Anna, you should drink less."

    "Don¡¯t worry," I replied, "I¡¯ve improved my tolerance recently."

    Only Rachel and I knew that my ss contained mostly water. The real alcohol only appeared when necessary for show.

    Samuel materialized beside me again.

    "Speaking of drinking," he announced, drawing the attention of nearby guests, "I wonder who was carried home unconscious just days ago, rescued by none other than Mr. Murphy himself."

    The room didn¡¯t fallpletely silent, but I could feel the shift in attention, whispers mentioning my name. I saw Jack gripping his ss so tightly it might shatter.

    Damn it. Samuel was deliberately bringing up Marcus, knowing exactly what this implied to everyone especially to Jack.

    "Uncle Marcus happened to be at the bar when Mr. Griffin was testing my alcohol tolerance," I exined, "He took me home when I couldn¡¯t drive.

    My mother lectured me afterward, all thanks to you, Mr. Griffin."

    Samuel¡¯s smile remained unchanged:

    "Ms. Shaw, I¡¯m a man of my word.

    Show enough sincerity, and our partnership agreement can be signed anytime."

    I changed the subject: "Mr. Griffin, alcohol is harmful to health. Could we discuss our partnership some other way?"

    "Drink! Drink!" The crowd began to chant. I recognized this ritual¡ªa business gathering custom where alcohol served as both a social tool and a symbol of power. How many deals had been made or broken based on someone¡¯s drinking capacity? I detested it, silently vowing to change this culture someday.

    Samuel watched me expectantly, enjoying my predicament. The crowd grew louder. This was his test-how badly did I want the Skke District project?

    I signaled Rachel, who brought over a special bottle-one that looked like vodka but contained water.

    "Mr. Griffin," I announced, "here¡¯s the agreement. I¡¯ll drink first as a show of goodwill, then you can decide whether to sign."

    I unscrewed the cap and tilted my head back. The crowd cheered as I drank. Some water deliberately spilled, trickling down my neck, attracting male gazes.

    Jack noticed these looks, his expression darkening. He suddenly came over and grabbed the bottle.

    "Griffin, what kind of man picks on women?" he said, "I¡¯ll drink in her ce."

    Before I could react, Jack had already started drinking. For a moment, confusion crossed his face-he realized it wasn¡¯t alcohol-but he continued until he finished.

    Rachel and I exchanged bewildered nces. Neither of us had anticipated this.

    Pax stood nearby, looking ufortable. I could almost see his worry-how would he exin this to the Simpson family? His client defending his ex-wife at her party?

    Jack mmed the empty bottle down, challenging Samuel with his eyes.

    Samuel began to apud, others following suit.

    "Mr. Simpson¡¯s feelings for Ms. Shaw run deep," Samuel remarked, his tone suggestive.

    I felt the weight of every gaze in the room. Over the years, I¡¯d developed thick skin¡ªa necessary shield.

    "Thank you, Mr. Simpson, for drinking on my behalf. You¡¯re truly a good person," I said calmly.

    Jack maintained silence, looking ufortable. Around us,ughter rippled through the crowd. I kept my expression neutral. In these gatherings, projecting strength was far more important than caring what anyone thought.

    I turned to Samuel, meeting his gaze directly. "So, have I demonstrated my sincerity now that the drinks are finished?" Can this damn drinking game finally end?

    Samuel nodded, his eyes flickering between Jack and me. "Yes. How could I not consider it sincere when Mr. Simpson was so eager to drink on your behalf?"

    His insinuation infuriated me, but I maintained my smile. What a boundary-pushing bastard.

    My dress, damp from spilled alcohol, clung ufortably to my skin. The fabric felt cold and sticky, making me desperate to leave.

    "I need to freshen up in the restroom," I said, forcing a polite smile.

    When the restroom door closed behind me, I finally sighed with relief. I examined the alcohol stains on my dress.

    "Rachel, is there a spare outfit anywhere?" I asked, peeling the damp fabric away from my skin.

    Rachel frowned, searching through the closet in the restroom. "I thought I brought one in... Maybe it¡¯s still in the car?"

    "Could you check? This is unbearable," I said.

    Rachel nodded. "I¡¯ll go get it. Sean is right outside."

    Once she left, I decisively removed my wet dress and wrapped myself in a white towel. It wasrge enough to cover me from chest to thighs, much morefortable than the sticky dress.

    Just as I was contemting my next move, a knock came at the door.

    Finally. Rachel must have found the clothes.

    I opened the door, only to freeze in ce.

    Jack stood in the doorway, his eyes widening as he registered my state of undress. I instinctively tightened my grip on the towel, suddenly aware of my near-nakedness.

    "What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice catching in my throat.

    Jack¡¯s POV

    I pushed open the rest room door, expecting to find anyone but her. Anna stood there with nothing but a white towel wrapped around her body, her shoulders still damp in the light. The towel barely reached mid-thigh, exposing the legs.

    My mouth went dry. The air between us crackled, and I felt my body responding in ways I couldn¡¯t control.

    "I..." The word stumbled out, and I realized I was *stuttering*. Jack Simpson, heir to one of Skyview City¡¯s most powerful families, reduced to incoherence by the sight of his ex-wife in a towel.

    Anna¡¯s eyes widened, then narrowed.

    Her hand tightened around the towel where it was tucked above her chest.

    "What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded, backing up. "This is the women¡¯s rest room! Get out!"

    I struggled to remember why I¡¯de looking for her. The heat rising up my neck was unbearable.

    "You need to leave. Now." She motioned toward the door, her face flushing with anger¡ªor was it embarrassment?

    "Annie, I need to talk to you. I-"

    "Wait, what did you just call me?" She cut me off, her expression shifting to surprise.

    "Annie," I repeated, the nickname feeling right on my tongue. A softness spread through my chest, reminding me of better times.

    Her face hardened into disgust. "Stop it. Don¡¯t you dare call me that."

    The vehemence caught me off guard.

    "Why not? Marcus calls you that all the time." The words came out before I could stop them, thick with jealousy.

    "Jack Simpson, are you serious right now?" Sheughed without warmth.

    "You want to know why I don¡¯t let you call me that? It¡¯s simple. Only people who genuinely care about me get to call me that." She jabbed toward the door. "And you don¡¯t qualify. Now get out."

    The words stung. I took a deep breath, focusing on why I¡¯de looking for her.

    "Anna, I didn¡¯te here to argue. I wanted to talk about the Skke project. I¡¯m hoping you can put aside your prejudice and consider a partnership."

    "Not happening." Her refusal was immediate.

    "Why are you being so stubborn? I¡¯m trying to help you." I stepped further in, closing the door. "I know you want to keep that historic building. I promise I¡¯ll help you preserve it."

    Anna¡¯s eyes shed. "I don¡¯t believe you. From our marriage to our divorce, I¡¯ve learned one lesson: take control of your own destiny. Relying on others is pointless."

    Her words hit hard. Had our failed marriage taught her to trust no one?

    "Anna, don¡¯t try to fight the Simpson family, you can¡¯t!" Then I turned and left.

    I tried to open the door and go out, but the handle wouldn¡¯t turn.

    I tried the handle myself. Nothing.

    "It¡¯s locked. From the outside."

    Anna¡¯s expression shifted from confusion to suspicion. "This is a first ¡ªbeing set up at my own party." Her eyes scanned me with calction.

    "Why did youe in here, Jack?"

    "You¡¯re suspecting me?" I stared at her, hurt by the usation. "You think I nned this?"

    "I¡¯m suspicious of everyone right now."

    Her tone was ice-cold. "Someone locked this door, and it¡¯s too convenient that you¡¯re trapped in here with me."

    "Think logically," I argued. "How could this benefit me? Being discovered alone with you in the women¡¯s rest room-with you dressed like that¡ªwould cause a scandal."

    Anna¡¯s eyes never left mine. "For you, maybe a mild embarrassment. For me?

    My reputation would be destroyed.

    Everyone would assume I was trying to reconcile with you." She paced, clutching her towel. "The timing is too perfect. Samuel Griffin is outside making insinuations about us, and suddenly we¡¯re locked in here together?"

    She had a point. Someone was ying games. But who?

    "Let me call Pax. He can get us out discreetly." I reached for my phone, only to remember I¡¯d left it with my assistant.

    "Of course you don¡¯t have your phone," she muttered, eyes searching for alternatives. Her gaze settled on the window, and I saw the decision form.

    "No way," I said, reading her intention.

    "That¡¯s insane."

    Anna was already moving toward the window, testing whether it would open. "Do you have a better idea?

    Because I¡¯m not waiting to be discovered here with you."

    The window slid open. Anna peered outside, gauging the distance to the ground.

    "You¡¯re crazy," I said, stunned by her determination. "This is the third floor!"

    "So what¡¯s your solution?" She turned to face me, resolute. "If someone sees us in here alone, with me dressed like this, what do you think they¡¯ll believe?

    No matter what really happened, the gossip would be brutal."

    "Anna, we were married once. What¡¯s the big deal if we¡¯re found together?" Even as I said it, I knew it was weak reasoning.

    Herugh was bitter. "Married? If we¡¯d ever had a real marriage, that might be an argument. But the truth is, we never even..." She stopped herself.

    "Never mind. Even if this is just a misunderstanding, I don¡¯t want to be associated with you."

    Her words hit me like a blow. I stood stunned. There was a time when I might have berated her for being so blunt, for not caring about appearances. Now I could only me myself. I had her once and didn¡¯t appreciate what I had. Now that I wanted her back, it was toote.

    "I can¡¯t let you do this," I said firmly.

    "It¡¯s too dangerous."

    "I¡¯m not asking for your permission," she replied, unwavering. "And I¡¯m certainly not staying here to be discovered with you."

 Chapter 44: Whispers at Olympus Club

    <h4>Chapter 44: Whispers at Olympus Club</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I peered out the window of the Olympus Club¡¯s third-floor rest room, assessing the situation. While we were undeniably high up, I noticed a decorative terrace jutting out between the first and second floors. That buffer might just make the jump survivable instead of suicidal. But I couldn¡¯t possibly leap out wearing only a towel ¡ªthat would create an even more impossible-to-exin scenario than being discovered with Jack.

    I turned back to find Jack still standing there, seemingly transfixed. His gaze lingered on my legs, an almost palpable heat that made my skin crawl with both anger and difort. The irony wasn¡¯t lost on me-when we were married, he barely noticed me, but now that we were divorced, here he was, practically devouring me with his eyes.

    I snatched up my damp dress from the counter and shot him a re. "Turn around," Imanded, my voice sharp as ss.

    Jack blinked, as if emerging from a trance. "What for?"

    My patience, already hanging by a thread, snapped entirely. "What do you think? I¡¯m changing. I can¡¯t exactly jump out the window looking like this, can I?"

    The words came out in a hiss,ced with exasperation. Reality finally seemed to prate his brain. His eyes widened with genuine rm. "You¡¯ll kill yourself jumping from this height!

    Is avoiding being seen with me worth risking your life?"

    "Yes," I answered without hesitation, my voice t and decisive. "I¡¯d rather die than be caught with you."

    I shoved him hard, trying to force him to turn around, but he remained obstinate, rooted to the spot, his eyes filled with a messy cocktail of emotions I had no interest in deciphering.

    "Stop trying to do me any favors, Jack.

    Whatever was between us is long over.

    Anna Shaw doesn¡¯t recycle her trash."

    The words poured out, my voice growing steadier with each syble, though the bitterness felt like acid climbing up my throat. "Yes, I once cared deeply for you, but so what? You and your family killed every feeling I had. Think of me as yourpetitor now, nothing more. Don¡¯t bother with these meaningless gestures¡ªI won¡¯t appreciate them. Whatever tactics the Simpson family tries against me, I¡¯ll face them head-on."

    I paused, meeting his gaze directly, forcing myself to suppress the ache that still sometimes surfaced when I thought about our failed marriage.

    "Jack Simpson, have some dignity.

    Don¡¯t make me... lose what little respect I have left for you."

    His pupils contracted sharply, and for a fleeting moment, something unnameable passed between us¡ª perhaps regret, perhaps eptance, perhaps simply the acknowledgment of an ending that had urred long ago.

    "You don¡¯t have to jump," he said softly. "I will."

    His offer ignited a fresh spark of irritation. Thest thing I needed was his misced chivalry, and I certainly didn¡¯t want to owe him anything, not when I¡¯d worked so hard to sever all ties between us.

    "I don¡¯t want to owe you anything," I spat, fixing him with a venomous re. "Turn around!"

    This time, Jackplied without argument. His shoulders slumped slightly as he faced the wall, his entire posture radiating a cold silence.

    I had just grabbed my dress, preparing to change, when voices suddenly sounded from the hallway outside.

    Multiple voices. My heart lurched. The situation had just be much more urgent. I would never have enough time to change now.

    My pulse elerated to a frantic rhythm, my breathing turning shallow.

    I swiftly dragged a chair to the window, kicked off my heels, and mbered onto the windowsill without a second thought.

    Only when I stood at the edge, the cold night air whipping around me, did I realize just how high up we truly were. The wind cut through the thin towel, raising goosebumps across my skin. Strangely, heights had never bothered me before, but now my legs trembled like they might give out beneath me. A wave of primal fear washed over me, turning my muscles to water.

    The parking lot behind Olympus Club stretched out below,pletely exposed. Anyone could look up at any moment. But what terrified me more were the voices growing ever closer in the hallway. There was no time left for second thoughts.

    I drew a deep breath, my mind offering a final pep talk: *Don¡¯t be afraid, this is your only way out.* Those people would burst through the door any second. I had to act now.

    With onest desperate surge of resolve, I closed my eyes and leaped toward the terrace below.

    Jack¡¯s POV

    I heard a faint rustling sound behind me and whipped around, my heart suddenly clutched in an invisible vise.

    The room was empty. Anna had vanished without a trace. A wave of anxiety and tension surged through me.

    *Damn it, where did she go?* I silently cursed, my eyes frantically scanning the room.

    A movement from the second-floor balcony caught my attention. I rushed over just in time to see Anna getting to her feet, hesitating for only a heartbeat before leaping from the ledge.

    But I had no time to process what I¡¯d just witnessed. Footsteps approached from the hallway, growing louder by the second,pelling me into action.

    I quickly closed the window and moved the chair back to its original position, my heart racing with each hurried movement. I tried to appearposed, but my slightly trembling fingers betrayed my inner turmoil.

    Drawing a deep breath, I steeled myself and walked toward the door.

    My mind raced, calcting how to handle whoever was about to walk in.

    When I reached for the door handle, it turned easily under my grip.

    *Strange, it opens now?* My internal rm bells rang loudly. The door that had trapped us moments ago was suddenly unlocked. Why? A sense of being manipted crawled under my skin, making me deeply ufortable.

    The door swung open, and I found myself face-to-face with a small crowd.

    Several women stood there, apparently guided specifically to this location.

    Among them, I was surprised to see Lucy Taylor¡¯s face.

    Lucy wore an innocent smile,pletely oblivious to being used as a pawn. "Jack, we were justing to hang out. What are you doing in here?" she asked.

    Her question tightened something in my chest, but I quickly adjusted my expression, fabricating a usible excuse: "I had a bit too much to drink and needed to clear my head." My voice remained steady, carefully masking the turbulence I felt within.

    Just then, I noticed Rachel hovering at the edge of the group-she must have returned with clothes for Anna. When she saw me emerging from the rest room, she froze momentarily, then appeared to realize what had happened and quickly turned to leave.

    "Please, go ahead," I said, stepping aside with a neutral tone, as if everything was perfectly normal. In reality, every nerve in my body was stretched taut, my gaze sharply surveying the surroundings, searching for anything or anyone suspicious.

    As the chattering women entered the rest room, I scanned the area, confirming there was no one suspicious watching. The immediate danger had passed, but an unsettling feeling of being calcted against, of being watched, lingered like a shadow in my mind.

    Anna¡¯s POV

    The wind rushed past me as I fell, my heart thundering in my chest. I¡¯d braced myself for the inevitable painful impact, eyes squeezed shut, when suddenly I felt myself collide with something solid yet yielding. Not concrete, but arms-strong arms that caught me with such force that the air was knocked from my lungs.

    I finally dared to open my eyes, and found myself staring at a perfect jawline, then into Marcus Murphy¡¯s bottomless dark eyes. A strange flutter of excitement rose in my chest.

    "Uncle Marcus?" I asked tentatively, unable to hide the relief and unexpected joy in my voice. "Did you catch me? I already hurt my arm jumping from the third floor to the second-floor terrace¡ªif it weren¡¯t for you, I would¡¯ve been much worse off."

    Marcus¡¯s face was ashen, his expression hard as stone as he stared down at me. I couldn¡¯t read what was hidden in that gaze, but I could feel the anger radiating from him. His silence was more intimidating than any words could have been.

    Only when Peter Reed approached with a coat to drape over me did I suddenly realize my predicament¡ªI was wearing nothing but a towel! Oh God, had it slipped during my fall?

    The thought was mortifying. I could only console myself with the fact that it was dark; surely he hadn¡¯t seen anything clearly.

    I instinctively curled deeper into Marcus¡¯s arms, with just one thought: this was absolutely humiliating.

    Marcus carried me to his waiting car, his grip firm but careful around my towel-d body. As he gently ced me in the backseat, Rachel appeared, breathless and clutching a bag.

    "Ms. Shaw! Thank goodness you¡¯re alright," she eximed, sliding in beside me. "I have your clothes."

    As Rachel helped me change in the rtive privacy of the car¡¯s tinted windows, we discussed what had happened.

    "Ms. Shaw, I saw several women heading toward the restroom and immediately realized something might be wrong," Rachel exined while helping me into my blouse. "Those women aren¡¯t prominent in Skyview City¡¯s social circles, and I noticed Lucy Taylor was among them. But when I saw Mr. Simpson emerge from the room, I had the feeling this might not be Ms. Taylor¡¯s doing. She wouldn¡¯t set such an obvious trap."

    I nodded, analyzing the situation coolly despite my physical difort.

    "You¡¯re right. It doesn¡¯t seem like her style. If my suspicions are correct, whoever nned this incident is likely the same person who stabbed Uncle Marcus."

    "What would they hope to aplish?" Rachel asked, confusion evident in her voice.

    I gave a bitter smile. "To create conflict between Jack and Marcus." I shook my head with self-deprecating humor.

    "Apparently, my allure is excessive enough to warrant such borate schemes."

    Rachel responded immediately: "You are indeed the most exceptional woman in Skyview City."

    After changing into proper clothes, I stepped out of the car to see Marcus standing a short distance away, his back to us. The ck shirt he wore entuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist, his posture impably straight. If he weren¡¯t Marcus Murphy, I would definitely have snapped a photo to send to Catherine.

    "Uncle Marcus, thank you so much for earlier," I said, approaching him. "If not for you, I could have been seriously injured." I suddenly realized I was constantly thanking him, umting a debt of gratitude that grew heavier by the day.

    Marcus turned to face me, his expression still cold with anger, apparently too upset to speak. His intense stare made me ufortable, but I pushed forward. "Uncle Marcus, I... need to get back to the party."

    At that moment, Rachel gasped. "Ms. Shaw, your arm is injured... and your back as well..."

    Marcus¡¯s gaze immediately dropped to my injuries. I¡¯d felt the burning pain already but hadn¡¯t dared to look¡ª afraid it would only increase my anxiety.

    "It probably looks worse than it is just some scrapes. It doesn¡¯t hurt much," I lied, forcing a smile for Marcus while my fingers trembled uncontrobly.

    Marcus studied me critically. "Are you sure you want to go back?"

    I gritted my teeth with determination.

    "Uncle Marcus, I believe the person behind your attack is inside Olympus Club right now. I need to return and find out, otherwise this jump was for nothing."

    Peter quickly retrieved a first aid kit from the car. When the alcohol touched my wounds, I nearly jumped from the seat. I clenched my fists tightly, my face contorting in pain. Just as I was about to cry out, I felt a firm pressure around my waist, and my head was pulled against a solid chest.

    Marcus¡¯srge hand steadied the back of my head, as it cing me in a safe space that shielded me from pain and fear. My heart raced wildly. Logic told me I should push him away, but I found myself craving this warmth and security.

    When injured, having someone to lean on made me want to linger just a little longer.

    Once the bandaging wasplete, I reluctantly pulled away from Marcus¡¯s embrace, forcing a smile. "It really doesn¡¯t hurt that much. I can manage."

    Marcus took his jacket and personally draped it over my shoulders. "Let¡¯s go," he said simply.

    "T¡¯lle with you," he added.

    I didn¡¯t immediately process what he meant. "Uncle Marcus..." I hadn¡¯t invited him.

    Marcus looked at me, his expression stern. "Why else do you think I came all this way?"

    "Uncle Marcus..." A wave of emotion rose in my chest, difficult to suppress.

    At Simpson family dinners, George Simpson took charge while Jack merely needed to attend and assist. But me? I stood alone. Having someone willing to stand beside me, to face challenges together-of course I was grateful. But this was Marcus Murphy, who had no obligation to involve himself in these matters.

    "That¡¯s not necessary, Uncle Marcus. I can handle it," I refused.

    But Marcus was already striding toward Olympus Club, giving me no opportunity to object. Helpless, I hurried after him.

    Our return to the party together sparked immediate surprise and gossip. I knew exactly what people were saying¡ªa woman freshly divorced from Jack Simpson, already so close to his uncle. The implications were obvious and ugly.

    I could hear the whispers: "Why is Marcus Murphy here?"

    "I heard Mr. Murphy bought that historic building everyone was bidding on at the charity auction and just gave it to Anna Shaw¡ªis that true?"

    "It must be true, look at them-their rtionship is definitely unusual."

    "Anna Shaw is so clever, dumping the nephew and immediately snagging the uncle, such calcted moves."

    "I can¡¯t believe Mr. Murphy would be interested in a divorced woman, it¡¯s inconceivable."

 Chapter 45: He Knew

    <h4>Chapter 45: He Knew</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I¡¯m not afraid of being the subject of gossip. Over the years, I¡¯ve collected enough rumors and whispers to fill a small library, and I¡¯ve developed a thick skin as a result. Standing in the grand hall of the Olympus Club, I could feel eyes on me from every direction, but none of it could shake me.

    My mind drifted to a scene from a few years back¡ªa wealthy Skyview City socialite had mistaken me for her husband¡¯s mistress and burst into Shaw Tower with security in tow. The man had somehow obtained photos of me, causing his wife to seek me out. In the end, I sued him for sexual harassment and won a million-dor settlement. I split the money evenly, sharing half with the employees who had helped me through the ordeal, while treating myself to several limited-edition handbags with the remainder. This was one of the many reasons Mary Simpson disapproved of me-in her eyes, a "proper" society woman shouldn¡¯t be so assertive.

    My thoughts were interrupted as Marcus Murphy returned to the party with me. His presence immediately became the focal point of the room; all conversation paused momentarily before erupting into more fervent whispers.

    "Well, if it isn¡¯t Mr. Murphy! We meet again." Samuel Griffin greeted him with exaggerated enthusiasm, calction gleaming in his eyes. His gaze shifted between Marcus and me, a mocking smile ying at the corners of his mouth.

    Marcuspletely ignored him, turning to me instead. "Go ahead and attend to your guests. I¡¯ll just find a ce to sit for a while." His voice was calm, yet somehow instilled in me an inexplicable sense of security.

    I watched as he made his way to a sofa in the corner. People immediately flocked around him with offers: "Mr. Murphy, please sit here." "Sir, what would you like to drink?"

    Someone remarked with thinly veiled sarcasm: "Ms. Shaw certainly has influence, even Mr. Murphy hase to show his support."

    Before I could respond, Catherine jumped in: "Is there something wrong with my uncleing to pick me up?" Her tone carried obvious displeasure.

    Samuel persisted: "Of course not, but that jacket Ms. Shaw is wearing¡ªit certainly doesn¡¯t look like yours, does it?" He fixed me with a pointed look, his eyes full of insinuation.

    I felt a tightening in my chest, knowing he was testing me.

    Catherine shot back without hesitation:

    "Mr. Griffin, don¡¯t your many female admirers find your meddling tiresome?"

    I decided to take control of the situation, deliberately adjusting Marcus¡¯s jacket to reveal my bandaged arm. With a practiced air of resignation, I said: "When I heard Mr. Murphy had arrived, I went out to greet him and unfortunately took a fall." I let out a small sigh, infusing my voice with a touch of pain. "It hurts terribly. Mr. Murphy lent me his jacket¡ªotherwise, I wouldn¡¯t be presentable at all."

    Catherine asked in surprise: "How did you manage to fall so badly? Since when did you be so delicate?"

    Thanks a lot, I mentally rolled my eyes. Looking around, I noticed everyone staring at my arm. Jack had even stood up, seemingly intending toe check on my injury. Oscar and Logan were already approaching, with Oscar beginning his customary stream of concern.

    Only Samuel maintained his knowing smile, eyes fixed on me. I was absolutely certain he knew exactly how I¡¯d gotten hurt. This sent a wave of unease through me, though I couldn¡¯t let it show.

    "You need to go to the hospital," Oscar insisted, his doctor¡¯s instincts taking over. "That doesn¡¯t look like a simple scrape."

    I tried to refuse, but Oscar was adamant about taking me to the hospital. Eventually, Catherine suggested that Marcus drive us.

    Sitting in the back seat of Marcus¡¯s luxury sedan, I could sense Oscar¡¯s displeasure. I actually wanted to speak with Marcus privately about Samuel, but Oscar¡¯s presence forced me to change the subject.

    "It¡¯s just a minor injury, no need for such a fuss," I said impatiently to Oscar, trying to mask my nervousness.

    "I organized this party, and now the host is leaving in the middle of it¡ª how does that look?"

    Oscar retorted indignantly: "You shouldn¡¯t have thrown that kind of party in the first ce. Do you know what they¡¯re saying about you behind your back?" His tone wasden with protectiveness.

    I feigned indifference: "What could they possibly say? Just the usual clich¨¦s-damaged goods, ball-buster, seductress, shameless... They hate me yet want to be me¡ªit¡¯s love and hate intertwined." On the surface, I appeared nonchnt, but there was a tinge of bitterness inside. Over the years, I¡¯d grown ustomed to idle gossip, but that didn¡¯t mean it couldn¡¯t still hurt.

    Oscar remained silent for a moment, then suddenly apuded. "Brilliant and spot-on. That¡¯s so you, Annie." His eyes reflected both admiration and concern.

    Throughout all this, Marcus maintained his silence. But I could feel

    his gaze asionally resting on me, giving me an inexplicable sense of calm.

    At the emergency room, I removed the jacket, and both Marcus and Oscar¡¯s expressions immediately changed. My injuries were worse than I¡¯d let on¡ª blood had seeped through the temporary bandages.

    "Anna, are you insane? You¡¯re bleeding through and you didn¡¯t say anything?" Oscar¡¯s voice carried both anger and worry. He quickly removed his suit jacket, tossing it to Rachel, then grabbed a white coat from a rack and put it on, expertly retrieving a mask from a nearby drawer.

    Faced with the attending physician¡¯s bewildered expression, I could only exin awkwardly: "Sorry, he¡¯s a doctor too¡ªupational hazard."

    As Oscar tended to my wounds, he muttered curses under his breath, though his touch remained exceptionally gentle. I kept my eyes closed, not daring to look, gripping Rachel¡¯s hand so tightly I was likely leaving marks.

    When the bandaging was finallyplete, Oscar removed his mask and looked down at me, his eyes filled with suspicion: "A fall? You jumped from a building, didn¡¯t you? How else could you possibly end up like this?"

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I exhaled deeply, deciding to be honest with Oscar. "You¡¯re right. I actually did fall from a building."

    Oscar¡¯s face immediately transformed, his expression hardening with concern.

    "What the hell, Anna? Are you out of your mind? What did you do this time?"

    I couldn¡¯t stand his motherly fussing.

    "Nothing," I said dismissively. "I¡¯m kidding. It was just a fall." His skeptical expression amused me, but I didn¡¯t feel like exining. I nced around the room, suddenly noticing someone was missing. "Where¡¯s Uncle Marcus? I don¡¯t see him."

    Oscar let out a cold snort. "Your uncle dropped you off and disappeared.

    Probably left already."

    The attending physician prescribed an anti-inmmatory spray, and was about to write a prescription for scar removal cream when Oscar intercepted. "We don¡¯t need that. I have some at home."

    The doctor smiled at me. "When your boyfriend is a doctor, why evene to the hospital? He could¡¯ve treated you at home."

    Oscar jumped up as if his tail had been stepped on. "No, no, no! I am not her boyfriend."

    I nodded, adding very seriously, "And I could definitely do better than him."

    Rachel drove me back to Rosa Vi, where I declined Oscar¡¯s offer to stay and help with my wounds.

    Back at Rosa Vi, I still didn¡¯t see Marcus anywhere. I guessed he had probably returned to the Murphy estate.

    Since I couldn¡¯t shower with my injuries, I had Rachel help me clean up with a damp towel, her movements gentle yet efficient.

    "Ms. Shaw, you should rest. Your body needs time to recover," she advised.

    I nodded, settling back against the pillows.

    My phone rang¡ªit was Sean. I picked up, putting it on speaker so Rachel could hear.

    "Ms. Shaw, the party has ended. After you left, I continued monitoring the situation," he began. "You should know that shortly after your departure, Mr. Griffin went to a private room for drinks with Logan Porter and Mr. Simpson. I don¡¯t know what they discussed specifically."

    After hanging up, Rachel brought me some pain medication and a ss of water.

    "Try to get some sleep, Ms. Shaw. I¡¯ll be just down the hall if you need anything."

    I nodded gratefully, though I doubted sleep woulde easily. After Rachel closed the door, I was left alone with my thoughts. I reyed recent events in my mind, bing increasingly suspicious of Samuel Griffin.

    Iy in bed, unable to sleep. Every inch of my body felt like it was on fire, the pain from my wounds refusing to let me rest. Just then, a knock sounded at my bedroom door.

    "Come in," I called, assuming it was Rachel.

    The door opened, and to my surprise, Marcus Murphy stepped into the dim room. My eyes widened. "Uncle Marcus?"

    Feeling it improper to receive him while lying down, I quickly tried to sit up, but the sudden movement pulled at my shoulder wound. "Oww!" I gasped, copsing back onto the pillow.

    Marcus set down whatever he was carrying and crossed the room in a few long strides. With one fluid movement, he slipped his arm behind me and gently pulled me upright. His voice carried an edge of urgency and worry. "Did you tear your wound?"

    I felt suddenly self-conscious, acutely aware of how practiced his movements seemed. As if he¡¯d done this before.

    "Does it hurt?" Marcus frowned deeply, "Let me take a look."

    I frozepletely. Take a look? Where exactly was he nning to look?

    Before I could process that thought, Marcus was already gently pulling aside the strap of my nightgown. I felt my entire body temperature skyrocket, certain I now resembled a thoroughly cooked lobster, bright red and radiating heat.

    Marcus had juste in from outside, and his fingers were slightly cool.

    When they made contact with my skin, I couldn¡¯t help but shiver. He carefully pulled down my gown just enough to reveal the shoulder wound. The bandage had a bright spot of fresh blood.

    "You¡¯re bleeding," he said, his voice dropping to a deep rumble.

    I quickly pulled my gown back up and grabbed the robe lying nearby, wrapping it around myself. "It¡¯s fine.

    Doesn¡¯t hurt." The embarrassment was overwhelming; I wished I could disappear into the mattress.

    Thankfully, Marcus stood and retrieved what he¡¯d brought with him. Desserts, of all things.

    "Uncle Marcus, where did you get these?" I asked, surprised.

    Marcus answered simply: "I bought them."

    He took out a small cake from the paper bag and handed it to me. I happily epted it. "Thank you, Uncle Marcus." A sweet treat was exactly what I needed right now.

    As I took the cake, a familiar aroma of milk and chocte wafted up to my nose. I paused for a second, though I thought that particr shop had probably closed years ago.

    I scooped up a small bite with the provided spoon and put it in my mouth. The melt-in-your-mouth cream and slightly caramelized chocte instantly awakened memories that had been dormant for years. I stared at Marcus in shock. "Uncle Marcus, where did you buy this dessert?"

    Marcus looked down at me from his imposing height. "A little-known dessert shop. It¡¯s quite far from here, which is why I¡¯mte."

    "This... this..." I was too shocked to form aplete sentence. "Uncle Marcus, is this ce called I¡¯s Bakery?"

    Marcus nodded. "Yes."

    My surprise intensified as I looked at him incredulously. "Uncle Marcus, how did you know about this bakery? How did you know I like their desserts?"

    Marcus just regarded me silently, offering no exnation. Instead, he asked, "Are you still in pain?"

    My heart was racing, my mind filled with questions. The story behind I¡¯s Bakery was special-the owner had once been a pastry chef for the Shaw family, whoter left to open her own cake shop. My father frequently bought me treats from there. Those desserts had been my emotional anchor during difficult times. After my father passed away, the shop suddenly changed hands, and I¡¯d spent a long time searching for it without sess.

    Even my mother probably didn¡¯t remember this detail. How could Marcus possibly know?

    I barely slept that night, and was up early the next morning. As I made my way downstairs, I saw Peter Reeding in from outside, one arm in a sling. When he spotted me, he clearly wanted to retreat but wasn¡¯t quick enough.

    My expression darkened. "You¡¯re injured?"

    "M-Miss Shaw," Peter actually stuttered, "I-I took a fall, and then..."

    I had no patience for his fabricated story and cut him off. "Did someone attack Uncle Marcus against night?

    Is that why he came back sote?"

    Concern and anger surged through me simultaneously. Marcus had not only risked himself to buy my favorite dessert but had likely encountered danger on his way. This realization made my chest tighten with both gratitude and distress.

    "Tell me what happened," I demanded, stepping closer to Peter.

 Chapter 46: Not Mine to Protect

    <h4>Chapter 46: Not Mine to Protect</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Peter shifted ufortably, his professional demeanor cracking under my scrutiny. "Miss Shaw, Mr. Murphy specifically asked me not to worry you with unnecessary details."

    "I¡¯m already worried," I snapped, gesturing at his injured arm. "Spill it.

    Now."

    He sighed in defeat. "Mr. Murphy wasn¡¯t attacked. He¡¯spletely fine."

    Relief flooded through me so intensely my knees nearly buckled. "He wasn¡¯t hurt?"

    "No, Miss Shaw. Mr. Murphy is uninjured." Peter¡¯s voice softened slightly. "He didn¡¯t want you to know because he thought you¡¯d me yourself, given that he was out getting your favorite dessert."

    The relief was quickly reced by confusion and concern. "Then what happened to you?"

    Peter shrugged his good shoulder, trying to appear nonchnt. "Just some street thugs. They kicked me once, causing a minor fracture. It¡¯s nothing serious."

    "Nothing serious?" I stared at him incredulously. "Someone attacked you and you call that nothing serious?

    What were they after?"

    "They seemed to know exactly who Mr. Murphy was, but they weren¡¯t particrly skilled. I handled it myself." Peter¡¯s practiced indifference couldn¡¯t mask the seriousness of the situation.

    My mind raced, connecting the dots.

    First Marcus gets stabbed, then I¡¯m trapped in a restroom with Jack, and now this? The timing was too perfect to be coincidental. Someone was watching us closely, someone who desperately wanted control of Skke District and wasn¡¯t afraid to get physical.

    Just then, Marcus appeared at the doorway, his imposing figure filling the frame. My heart skipped in that now-familiar way, but I pushed the feeling aside, instead scanning him anxiously for any signs of injury.

    "Uncle Marcus," I said, unable to keep the concern from my voice. "Are you really okay? Peter was just telling me aboutst night."

    His eyes darkened as they moved from me to Peter, clearly displeased that his employee had revealed what happened. "I¡¯m fine," he replied curtly.

    I stepped closer, the realization hitting me hard. "You caught me when I jumped yesterday. You held me for so long... did your wound reopen?" The thought of him suffering because of me made my chest tighten painfully.

    "I said I¡¯m fine," Marcus repeated, his tone gentler this time. "Breakfast is ready."

    The dining room at Rosa Vi was bathed in morning light, making the polished wooden table gleam. I stared at my untouched te, appetite nonexistent as my mind churned with troubling thoughts. Across from me, Marcus ate quietly, his movements precise and controlled as always.

    "Is your wound still painful?" Marcus broke the silence, gesturing toward my bandaged arm.

    I looked up, ready to ask about I¡¯s Bakery, about how he knew it was my favorite, about why he¡¯d gone to such lengths just for me-but the words died in my throat. Suddenly, I didn¡¯t want to know the answer. I was afraid of what it might mean, of how it might change things between us.

    That moment of hesitation became rity. I saw with painful lucidity how selfish I¡¯d been-selfishly enjoying his protection, selfishly leaning on him, selfishly pretending I didn¡¯t see his feelings for me.

    This is wrong. The thought hit me with the force of a physical blow.

    Marcus¡¯s business empire was in Europe. He shouldn¡¯t be lingering in America, putting himself in danger because of me. This time it was Peter who got hurt, but next time... next time it could be Marcus himself. The thought of him seriously injured-or worse-because of me was unbearable.

    I remembered the promise I¡¯d made at my father¡¯s grave¡ªto care for my grandmother and mother, to build Shaw Corp into something formidable, to ensure my mother never had to feel inferior when facing Mary Simpson again. I had to forge my own path, no matter how difficult.

    "Uncle Marcus, you¡¯ve been in America for quite a while now," I began cautiously, forcing steadiness into my voice. "Yourpany must be missing you."

    His sharp gaze fixed on me immediately, those dark eyes seeming to read every thought behind my carefully constructed facade. "What are you trying to say?"

    My heart hammered against my ribs, but I pressed on. "Uncle Marcus, if you¡¯re staying here because of me... there¡¯s really no need."

    "My affairs don¡¯t require your concern," he replied coolly, returning his attention to his breakfast.

    I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I had to do. "But I don¡¯t like you that way. I¡¯ve just been using you."

    The words felt like ss in my mouth, jagged and painful, but I forced them out anyway. I expected anger, disappointment, perhaps even hurt¡ª what I didn¡¯t expect was his calm reply.

    "Feel free to use me as you see fit," he said, his voice perfectly steady as he took another bite of his food.

    I fell silent,pletely thrown by his response. The practiced speech I¡¯d prepared crumbled to dust in my mina. I set down my spoon, abandoning all pretense.

    "Uncle Marcus, thank you for taking care of me all this time," I said sincerely, my voice softening. "Apart from William and Catherine, no one has ever been as good to me as you have. It truly means a lot to me."

    I paused, gathering my courage for the final push. "But I also know that I can¡¯t repay you, so I can¡¯t continue epting your kindness. Uncle Marcus, you should go back to Europe soon."

    Without giving him a chance to respond, I stood and bowed formally, a gesture that felt both respectful and final. When I straightened, I caught a glimpse of his expression¡ªa mask of controlled displeasure that nearly broke my resolve. But I knew this was best for both of us.

    "Rachel," I called, my voice unnaturally high as I fought back tears, "pack my things. We¡¯re leaving."

    Back at Goldenleaf Manor, exhaustion hit me like a tidal wave. Although technically Rosa Vi was my property, I couldn¡¯t stay there-not in a ce filled with his presence, with memories of a rtionship that could never be.

    I copsed onto the sofa in the living room, unable to muster the energy even to change my clothes. Everything hurt¡ªmy physical injuries, yes, but more than that, my heart felt like it had been torn from my chest.

    When Daniel and Sean arrived to report on work matters, I couldn¡¯t even sit up properly. I justy there, half-reclined on the sofa, my face turned away as I listened to their updates on Phoenix Project.

    "Ms. Shaw, are you alright?" Sean¡¯s concerned voice interrupted Daniel¡¯s report on production figures. I could hear the rm in his tone, see the worry in his eyes when I finally turned to look at him.

    "I¡¯m fine," I lied, not bothering to make it convincing. "Just tired.

    Continue with your report."

    Marcus¡¯s POV

    I sat in silence, nursing a cold cup of coffee. The doorbell rang. Peter returned momentster with Daniel Davis.

    "Mr. Murphy, Ms. Shaw instructed me to deliver this card to you. It contains the money for the historic building and the fees you paid at the charity auction," Daniel said, his difort evident.

    My heart seized, though my face remained expressionless. Was she ending everything just like that?

    Daniel shifted his weight. "Ms. Shaw said to consider the previous agreement void, and wishes you a safe journey."

    A safe journey? Anger boiled within me. Being discarded so easily irritated me.

    Daniel nced toward Peter, who gestured that he could leave. "Then, Mr. Murphy, I¡¯ll take my leave."

    After he left, silence fell. I picked up the card. "Shaw Corp moving two hundred million dors in one night-impressive."

    Peter attempted to lighten the mood.

    "Ms. Shaw really won¡¯t ept any favors from you. That¡¯s unusual."

    "Did I not allow her to ept?" I erupted. "I practically ced the money in front of her begging her to take it, yet she refused."

    I mmed my fist against the table.

    The coffee cup rattled. Peter¡¯s startled expression made me realize how uncharacteristic my outburst was.

    I let out a cold snort. "And she thinks she canpete for Skke District?

    What does she have? Money? Power?

    What is she willing to risk? Her life?"

    The memory of Anna jumping from that window shed in my mind-her reckless determination to handle everything herself. If I hadn¡¯t caught her...

    "What¡¯s your take on this situation?" I asked Peter.

    "I looked into it today. Those thugs from the other night were street criminals. Their leader runs some inte caf¨¦. They were hired for a one-time job. I suspect they¡¯re connected to whoever targeted Ms. Shaw."

    "No need to suspect-it¡¯s definitely the same person," I stated.

    "Those thugs didn¡¯t seem like they were aiming to do serious harm," Peter said.

    "It was for show," I replied.

    "For whose benefit?"

    "The effect was quite obvious."

    Peter¡¯s expression changed as he understood.

    "Sir, you¡¯re saying it was staged for Ms. Shaw to see? To force you to leave? Was your previous injury also part of this n?" Peter frowned.

    "Could Samuel Griffin be behind this? I heard from Rachel that Griffin has been stirring trouble between you and your nephew. But if it¡¯s him, why not just partner with Ms. Shaw directly?

    Why drive a wedge between you and Jack?"

    I walked to the window, gazing at the grounds.

    I turned back to Peter. "Now someone¡¯s staging attacks, making Anna believe she¡¯s putting me in danger."

    My jaw tightened. "It¡¯s working as nned. She¡¯s cutting ties, thinking she¡¯s protecting me."

    "But why would Griffin go to such lengths?" Peter asked.

    "Whether it¡¯s him or not, the truth wille to light."

    "Sir, should I have him followed?"

    "No. Book a flight," I said decisively.

    "To where?" Peter looked surprised.

    "Back," I answered.

    Anna¡¯s POV

    My phone lit up-the bank confirmed the transfer to Marcus¡¯s ount. Two hundred million dors for the Skke historic building. My ountant panicked about the cash outflow, but Shaw Corp would be fine.

    The Phoenix project was about tounch domestically, and the final payments from overseas orders would arrive soon. Our cash flow was secure.

    But I had a lot of work to do, and I couldn¡¯t stay home to recover, so I decided to go to the office the next day.

    The following day, I was deep in paperwork at Shaw Tower when Catherine Murphy burst into my office without knocking. Her face was flushed, and her eyes held an usatory gleam that immediately put me on edge.

    "Uncle Marcus left. Did you know?" she demanded without preamble.

    The pen I was holding ttered onto my desk. I felt my heart skip a beat.

    Despite my best efforts to maintainposure, I knew my expression had betrayed me.

    "I guess you didn¡¯t know." Catherine¡¯s eyes narrowed with spection.

    "When did he leave?" I managed to find my voice, struggling to maintain a level tone while my insides churned with unexpected turmoil.

    Catherine pointed upward at the ceiling. "The ne should be in the air by now."

    I found myself involuntarily ncing toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, as if I could somehow spot his ne through the ss. He had left just like that¡ªno goodbye, no exnation, as suddenly as he had appeared. An indefinable sense of loss gradually crept over me.

    Catherine leaned across my desk, staring at me intently. "Uncle Marcus didn¡¯t tell Grandfather anything, just said he needed to go back.

    Grandfather and I figured it had to be about you."

    "Did your grandfather say anything?" I asked carefully, worried that William Murphy might hold me responsible.

    "Not really, he just sighed." Catherine studied my face with unabashed curiosity. "Annie, do you really not have feelings for my uncle? Isn¡¯t he a hundred times better than that blind fool Jack Simpson? Isn¡¯t he exactly your type, both face and physique?"

    I took a deep breath, suppressing the ache in my chest. "I really don¡¯t want to be in a rtionship again."

    I couldn¡¯t help but sigh. "It¡¯s tooplicated, for both me and your uncle. His business empire is in Europe, and I can¡¯t possibly go overseas. What would be the point of us being together?" The words sounded like I was trying to convince Catherine, but really, I was trying to convince myself.

    Catherine nodded, feigning indifference. "You have a point. Uncle Marcus has over a dozen listed

    She shrugged dramatically. "Besides, men will do anything for you before they get you into bed. After they¡¯ve slept with you enough? Hah! He may be my uncle, but you¡¯re my best friend, so I¡¯m on your side."

    I forced a smile, my gaze drifting back to the window and the sky beyond.

    Marcus was truly gone. A profound emptiness suddenly enveloped me.

    Skyview City was still Skyview City, and yet something felt fundamentally different.

    Iughed bitterly to myself. *It¡¯s easier to adjust to luxury than to give it up.* In just a few days, I had grown ustomed to having him nearby, and now, being alone again, I felt strangely disoriented.

    When the workday finally ended, I found myself walking through the Shaw Tower lobby with Rachel nking me.

    But as we approached the main doors, a familiar figure materialized from the crowd of departing employees.

    Jack stood near the entrance, hands in his pockets, his tall frame impossible to miss. My step faltered slightly before I regained myposure. His presence was thest thing I needed today.

    "Mr. Simpson, what brings you here?" I maintained a polite but distant demeanor.

    Jack frowned, clearly displeased by my formality. "Let¡¯s talk. I¡¯ll buy you dinner."

    I kept my tone businesslike. "Mr. Simpson, we have nothing to discuss.

    If Simpson Group wants to coborate with me, you¡¯ll need to show some sincere goodwill that satisfies me.

    Otherwise, there¡¯s nothing to talk about." In my heart, all romantic feelings for him had evaporated.

    Jack¡¯s gaze darkened as he looked at me. "You know that¡¯s not what I want to talk about."

    "Then we have even less to discuss." I turned away, denying him any opportunity to pursue the conversation.

    "Back to Goldenleaf Manor," I instructed as I settled into the car¡¯s backseat.

    Through the rear window, I could see Jack still standing where I¡¯d left him.

    As the car pulled away, the distance between us grew-much like our rtionship, which could never return to what it once was.

    "Any updates on Mia?" I asked, eager to redirect my thoughts to work matters.

    Rachel consulted her tablet before responding. "Mr. Griffin has been taking her around to social events, but they¡¯re either drinking with people or just staying at the hotel. Last night he hosted a pool party at the hotel, invited quite a few people, and itsted until dawn. They¡¯ve been sleeping at the hotel all day today."

    I leaned against the car door, supporting my head with one hand, fatigue seeping into my bones. "Samuel still hasn¡¯t touched her?"

    Rachel shook her head. "No, he hasn¡¯t, though he acts quite wild in front of others. He gave Mia arge sum of hush money, so she¡¯s making money from both sides and seems to be enjoying herself."

    I pondered Samuel¡¯s behavior, finding it at odds with his reputation as a notorious yboy. This discrepancy piqued my curiosity about the man¡¯s true nature and intentions.

    "By the way, Ms. Shaw," Rachel added, "Nora is back. She attended Mr.

    Griffin¡¯s pool partyst night. Should we contact her?"

 Chapter 47: Where It Hurts Most

    <h4>Chapter 47: Where It Hurts Most</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I shook my head. "Samuel already has Mia ying his panion. Let¡¯s leave Nora out of this for now."

    Honestly, I had nned to discuss Samuel with Marcus-to share my suspicions and perhaps develop a strategy. But now that he¡¯d returned to Europe, I was on my own. The phantom pressure of his absence weighed on me more than I cared to admit.

    My phone buzzed. Speak of the devil ¡ªSamuel Griffin¡¯s name shed on the screen. I answered with practiced neutrality.

    "Mr. Griffin, what can I do for you?"

    "Ms. Shaw," his voice dripped with that artificial charm that made my skin crawl. "I was hoping you¡¯d join me for dinner tonight. Just a casual business discussion."

    I hesitated, weighing my options. After his behavior at the party and the twisted games he¡¯d been ying, the smart move would be to keep my distance. But I also needed to understand what he was nning next.

    "Where and when?" I finally asked.

    "The rooftop restaurant at Golden Ember Hotel, in an hour?"

    At least this time he¡¯d chosen a public, respectable venue. "I¡¯ll be there."

    When I got to the restaurant, Samuel sat alone at a corner table, looking infuriatingly at ease in his suit. No Mia in sight. When he spotted me, his face lit up with that practiced smile that never reached his eyes.

    "Ms. Shaw," he stood to greet me, pulling out my chair with exaggerated gantry. "You look exquisite tonight."

    I took my seat, maintaining a polite smile while mentally calcting how quickly I could leave if necessary.

    "Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Griffin. I must admit I was surprised."

    Samuel signaled for the waiter, ordering an expensive bottle of wine without consulting me. "Why surprised? We¡¯re both business people with shared interests."

    "Are we?" I raised an eyebrow, scanning the empty chair beside him.

    "Where¡¯s yourpanion tonight?

    Mia, wasn¡¯t it?"

    His eyes glinted with something predatory. "With a beautiful woman like Anna Shaw joining me, who needs anyone else?"

    I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at his transparent ttery. Instead, I decided to cut through the charade.

    "Mr. Griffin, I doubt you invited me here just for dinner. What is it you really want to discuss?"

    He leaned back, studying me with unconcealed amusement. "What else?"

    "Perhaps you wanted to inquire about why Marcus Murphy suddenly left America? Whether he¡¯sing back?"

    I kept my tone light, but watched his reaction carefully.

    He asked with a smile. "Is your ¡¯Uncle Marcus¡¯ing back?"

    His expression told me the truth. My practiced smile faded as cold realization washed over me. All the pieces clicked into ce-the stabbing, the rest room incident, Peter¡¯s injury.

    Samuel Griffin wasn¡¯t just an annoyance; he was the puppetmaster.

    "You¡¯ve got quite the appetite, Mr. Griffin," I said coldly, anger simmering just beneath my controlled exterior.

    "Skke District is Skyview City¡¯s crown jewel-countless families have their eyes on it, yet you want it all for yourself?"

    "Impressive, Ms. Shaw. You caught on quickly." He didn¡¯t even bother denying it, his face lighting up with smug satisfaction. "Going after Marcus Murphy was indeed the right move. I said he was your lover, which you denied, but you were clearly afraid of him getting hurt. So you sent him away, didn¡¯t you?"

    Ice spread through my veins. I regretted ever considering him as a potential ally. This man was far more dangerous than I¡¯d anticipated-he¡¯d dropped all pretense, not even bothering with the fa?ade anymore.

    Clearly, he didn¡¯t consider me a worthy opponent.

    "Let me guess," I analyzed, keeping my voice steady despite the rage building inside me. "That night at the charity g when I spilled champagne on you¡ªthat was deliberate, wasn¡¯t it?

    This was shortly after my divorce, before the historic building was back in my possession. You weren¡¯t targeting me at all; you were after Jack Simpson. You just didn¡¯t expect to be thrown out by Peter Reed."

    Samuel apuded softly, his eyes lighting with unexpected admiration.

    "What can I say, Ms. Shaw? I¡¯m genuinely intrigued by you now."

    "Shaw Corp is a small enterprisepared to yours," I said, no longer able to maintain my smile. "Why not just leave me alone?"

    Samuel leaned forward, his voice dropping to a meaningful murmur.

    "That historic building is in your hands, and as you said yourself¡ª whoever controls the building controls Skke. Who knows? Perhaps we¡¯ll end up working together after all."

    The threat in his words was unmistakable. With Marcus gone, he thought I¡¯d lost my protection. In his eyes, the historic building was just another asset to be acquired or destroyed. My ancestral home, my mother¡¯s childhood memories-none of that mattered to a man like Samuel Griffin.

    I forced onest smile, though it felt like stretching ss across my face.

    "Mr. Griffin, I think I¡¯ll let you enjoy your dinner alone. I have othermitments."

    "Leaving so soon?" He feigned disappointment, though his eyes remained calcting. "We¡¯ve barely started."

    "I¡¯ve seen and heard enough," I replied, rising from my chair with deliberate poise. "Goodnight, Mr. Griffin."

    The moment the elevator doors closed behind me, I let myposed expression copse. That bastard! I leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath to steady myself.

    Yet beneath my anger, I felt an odd sense of relief. I didn¡¯t regret sending Marcus away-quite the opposite. I was grateful he was gone. The waters in Skyview City were getting deeper and more treacherous with Heritage Group¡¯s entrance. More power yers would inevitably follow. Marcus¡¯s business empire was in Europe; he had no reason to waste time here, entangled in local power struggles.

    As I passed the hotel¡¯s front desk, I paused. "The bill for Mr. Griffin¡¯s should be charged directly to him.

    Make sure you collect payment."

    The small act of pettiness gave me a fleeting sense of satisfaction.

    In the car heading back to Goldenleaf Manor, I stared out at the cityscape, mind racing through potential next steps. With Marcus gone, Samuel would likely target the Simpson family next. The thought of Samuel going after Jack and his family almost made me smile. If those two collided, I would happily watch from the sidelines.

    I¡¯d lost my most powerful ally, but at least I¡¯d seen Samuel¡¯s true face. That knowledge was valuable in its own way. After calming myself, I called Logan Porter and exined the situation.

    "He admitted everything?" Logan sounded incredulous. "Just like that?"

    "He¡¯s arrogant," I replied. "And now that Marcus is gone, he sees no reason to hide his intentions."

    Logan was silent for a moment. "This changes everything, Anna. We need to regroup. I¡¯lle by tomorrow morning."

    The next morning, I descended the grand staircase of Goldenleat Manor to find Logan already waiting in the living room. He paced back and forth across the carpet, a nervous energy radiating from him that seemedpletely at odds with his typicallyposed demeanor.

    When he heard my footsteps and turned, I noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes. He clearly hadn¡¯t slept well. His normally immacte appearance was slightly rumpled, as if he¡¯d dressed in haste.

    "Anna," he said, relief flooding his face. "We need to talk."

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "Anna, you weren¡¯t taken advantage of by Samuel, were you?" The concern in his eyes made warmth spread through my chest. Even though I was no longer a little girl, Logan still protected me like he did when we were kids.

    "No, I kept my guard up and realized quickly this man is nothing like the rumors suggest." I shook my head, a hint of self-mockery pulling at my lips.

    "Once Uncle Marcus left, I suddenly became insignificant in his eyes. He didn¡¯t even bother to keep up appearances anymore."

    Inside, I felt bitter. I¡¯d been incredibly naive to think I could partner with Samuel Griffin and secure the Skke District project. The very idea seemedughable now. Samuel had never taken me seriously from the start-he was only using me to get closer to Marcus. The realization left me feeling hollow, but what bothered me more was my own foolishness and embarrassment.

    "Have you eaten yet, Logan? Let¡¯s grab something," I said, gesturing toward the restaurant¡¯s dining area, forcing myself to change the subject.

    "I barely sleptst night, worried you might have gotten burned. After all, I¡¯m the one who introduced him to you." Logan pushed his sses up, his eyes full of regret. "I¡¯m so sorry, Anna.

    I misjudged himpletely. I haven¡¯t known him long¡ªI shouldn¡¯t have rashly introduced him to you. I just thought Heritage Group could be a counterweight to Simpson Group, and if you could partner with them, it would benefit you. Damn, I really screwed up."

    Seeing Logan me himself made me feel even worse. This wasn¡¯t his fault at all; I¡¯d ced too much hope in Samuel Griffin.

    "Samuel had his eye on me first. Even if you hadn¡¯t introduced us, he would have found another way to approach me. Maybe he deliberately befriended you to get to me? He¡¯s too calcting ¡ªI just underestimated him this time."

    I forced a smile, though I knew my carelessness stemmed partly from my trust in Logan. I needed outside help, and Samuel appeared at the perfect moment. Looking back, Samuel had shown plenty of red gs, but I was too desperate for an ally to notice.

    "I should have done better research," Logan was still ming himself.

    "Stop beating yourself up. I didn¡¯t lose anything substantial. Heritage Group¡¯s target is Skke District, and their real opponent is Simpson Group." I appeared nonchnt, but my mind was already plotting my next move.

    Samuel¡¯s betrayal had taught me that Shaw Corp still had a long road ahead.

    Logan sighed heavily. "This is a major development initiative. Skke District property values are going to skyrocket, and Skyview City is about to be a battleground. Anna, you¡¯re holding that historic building¡ªbe careful."

    "I know. Thanks for the warning." I nodded gratefully. Logan always spotted risks I missed.

    "Let¡¯s eat. I don¡¯t have anything prepared, so you¡¯ll have to make do with what we have."

    was already plotting my next move.

    Samuel¡¯s betrayal had taught me that Shaw Corp still had a long road ahead.

    Logan sighed heavily. "This is a major development initiative. Skke District property values are going to skyrocket, and Skyview City is about to be a battleground. Anna, you¡¯re holding that historic building¡ªbe careful."

    "I know. Thanks for the warning." I nodded gratefully. Logan always spotted risks I missed.

    "Let¡¯s eat. I don¡¯t have anything prepared, so you¡¯ll have to make do with what we have."

    "When you were little, you used to run over to our house for dinner all the time. You loved my mom¡¯ssagna," Logan said, his eyes crinkling with a gentle smile.

    Memories of childhood brought an unexpected blush to my cheeks. "I was just a kid then. Don¡¯t tease me."

    "I¡¯m not teasing. You shoulde over more often. My mom makessagna andins that I¡¯m not thoughtful enough to bring you around anymore."

    As we reminisced about our childhood, the unpleasantness Samuel had caused quickly dissipated. I felt a warm glow inside, grateful to have friends like the Porters in my life.

    Later that afternoon, just before I was about to leave the office, Catherine suddenly appeared, insisting we go to dinner. I assumed it was just a casual friend meetup, never suspecting it was a trap.

    When we arrived at the restaurant, I immediately spotted Jack. I felt my face fall.

    "That jerk forced me into this,"

    Catherine quickly exined, seeing my expression change. "He said he had something important to tell you, but you wouldn¡¯t take his calls."

    Irritation surged through me. "What did he use to ckmail you?"

    Catherine looked genuinely annoyed as she exined: "He promised Quentin Walker would perform at my birthday party. That¡¯s *Quentin Walker*-my absolute idol. How could I refuse that?"

    I had to suppress an eye-roll.

    Catherine would do anything for her favorite idol.

    Since I was already here, I reluctantly sat down, though my guard remained firmly up. Since our divorce, every encounter with Jack had ended unpleasantly, and today would likely be no different.

    "If you¡¯re here to ask about Uncle Marcus, I have nothing to say. He¡¯s gone back to Europe now, just as your family wanted." I gave him a cold look, my eyes holding a hint of contempt.

    Jack seemed to avoid confrontation for once, getting straight to the point: "I wanted to warn you about Samuel Griffin. That man is dangerous and extremely calcting."

    Hearing Samuel¡¯s name gave me pause. Jack had no idea that Samuel and I had already had our falling out.

    "Thank you for the warning, Mr. Simpson. I¡¯ll keep that in mind." My response was deliberately cool and revealed nothing. In truth, I¡¯d already experienced Samuel¡¯s true nature firsthand, but I refused to appear vulnerable in front of Jack.

    "I¡¯m not trying to drive a wedge between you two, even though Simpson Group does want to partner with Heritage Group. But I wouldn¡¯t stoop to stealing from you." Jack¡¯s tone grew more serious. "And let me say something you don¡¯t want to hear¡ª can Shaw Corp reallypete with Simpson Group? If Samuel isn¡¯t a fool, he¡¯d never choose to partner with you.

    Does Shaw Corp have the capacity to share the risk?"

    His words cut like knives. I knew he was speaking the truth, but I couldn¡¯t ept it, much less acknowledge my naivety and weakness in front of him.

    "If you know I don¡¯t want to hear it, then please shut up," I said coldly, struggling to contain my anger and shame.

    He was right¡ªI had been naive. Little Shaw Corp trying to stake a im on Skke District? Samuel had given me a reality check, yet here I was, pretending to be unfazed in front of Jack. The embarrassment only fueled my irritation.

    "That¡¯s not what I meant. I¡¯m worried he¡¯s using you," Jack frowned as he tried to exin. "I had someone investigate thoroughly. I suspect Samuel arranged for us to be locked in that rest room that night."

    I was surprised he¡¯d gone to the trouble of investigating the incident.

    Though I already knew the truth, I couldn¡¯t help but scoff: "Is that so?"

    "Anna, wake up. You¡¯re not his match." Jack suddenly grabbed my hand, his voice carrying an unusual urgency. "I¡¯m trying to help you."

    The moment his hand closed around mine, I stiffened. The once-familiar touch stirred unwanted memories.

    "Whoa, hands off! Jack, remove your paws immediately. She¡¯s not your wife anymore, remember?" Catherine¡¯s eyes widened in rm.

    "Let go," I demanded coldly, fighting to keep any emotion from showing.

    Just then, an angry voice cut through the restaurant: "What are you two doing?"

    I turned to see Mary Simpson and Lucy Taylor standing nearby. The coincidence was almostughable-of all the restaurants in Skyview City, we had to run into them.

    I tried again to pull my hand away, but Jack¡¯s grip remained firm.

    "Jack, Anna... are you two back together?" Lucy¡¯s voice trembled, her eyes filled with disbelief and barely concealed anger.

    That question was like a match to gasoline. Mary Simpson immediately stormed over and pped me hard across the face.

    Because Jack was still holding my hand, I couldn¡¯t dodge. The stinging pain spread instantly across my cheek, but the humiliation and fury burned even hotter. I felt blood rushing to my head, my ears ringing.

    "What are you doing?" Jack finally released my hand, staring at his mother in shock.

    And I-I could no longer control myself. Before anyone could react, I raised my hand and delivered a resounding p to Lucy¡¯s face.

    The sharp crack echoed through the suddenly silent restaurant.

    Lucy held her cheek, looking at me in disbelief. "Anna, why did you hit me?"

 Chapter 48: Exposed

    <h4>Chapter 48: Exposed</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I stared back at her coldly, my palm still tingling from the p. The entire restaurant had fallen silent, all eyes on our little drama. I didn¡¯t care.

    "Anna Shaw, how dare you p Lucy?" Mary Simpson¡¯s voice cut through the silence, her face contorted with rage.

    I met her gaze without flinching, my expression as frigid as my voice. "I pped her because she deserved it.

    And next time, it¡¯ll be you."

    My words ignited something dark in Mary¡¯s eyes. "What did you say? You want to hit me?" Sheughed, the sound brittle and mocking. "Marcus leaves and you immediately start chasing after Jack again. What kind of woman are you? You have the audacity to strike someone? Anna Shaw, let¡¯s see if you dare to hit back."

    When she raised her hand again, I didn¡¯t move, didn¡¯t even blink. I just watched her, my body tensed but still.

    I wouldn¡¯t give her the satisfaction of seeing me cower, nor would I give her the excuse she wanted by fighting back. But inside, my heart had hardened to ice-this woman who had made me swallow my words for years was nothing but a pathetic clown in my eyes now.

    Before her hand could connect with my face again, Catherine lunged forward, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Try hitting her again, I dare you," she growled, her voice thick with protective fury.

    Mary didn¡¯t hesitate, her hand swinging with even more force. I felt a surge of warmth at Catherine¡¯s defense, mixed with worry that she¡¯d be caught in the crossfire. But the blow nevernded-Jack caught his mother¡¯s wrist mid-air.

    "Enough!" His voice carried exhaustion and frustration. "I¡¯m the one who asked Anna to meet. This has nothing to do with her."

    I studied his face, noting theplex emotions flickering across his features.

    A small, bitter part of me wanted tough. *Now* he sees his mother for what she is? Too little, toote. In that moment, I felt a strange sense of gratitude for our divorce-it had freed me from this toxic family.

    Catherine gently touched my reddening cheek, her eyes zing with anger. "She hit you so hard, it¡¯s already swelling." She frantically waved over a waiter, demanding ice.

    "Go throw your weight around at your own house, Simpson. Anna isn¡¯t part of your family anymore-what gives you the right toy a hand on her?"

    Mary stood tall, chin lifted with aristocratic disdain. "I¡¯m her elder.

    What¡¯s wrong with disciplining a younger person who¡¯s out of line?

    Anna Shaw, I¡¯m warning you¡ªstay away from my son."

    I couldn¡¯t suppress a coldugh, my contempt impossible to hide. "That¡¯s rich. Your son is the one who won¡¯t leave me alone. Please control him better. I don¡¯t want to see anyone from the Simpson family, ever."

    My voice remained steady, each wordnding like a stone in still water.

    Catherine red at Jack. "Take your mother and go. Now."

    Jack opened his mouth then closed it, his eyes fixed on the angry red mark blooming on my cheek. His expression crumbled into shame and regret, perhaps even nostalgia for what we¡¯d once had. But it was all meaningless now. I was no longer the Anna Shaw who would sacrifice everything for him.

    As he led Mary away, I caught Lucy¡¯s smug expression from the corner of my eye, confirming I¡¯d pped exactly the right person. That woman needed to be put in her ce.

    "Mary ispletely unhinged these days," Catherine said, disgust written across her face. "You know what?

    After Uncle Marcus returned to Europe, she went running to Grandfather. I don¡¯t know what she said, but it made Grandfather so angry he nearly hit her. Everyone at the Murphy Estate heard him tell her to get out."

    At the mention of Marcus, my thoughts drifted. *He must be back in Europe by now*. I didn¡¯t voice the thought, just listened as Catherine continued.

    "The moment Uncle Marcus leaves, these peoplee after you," she fumed, then abruptly changed course.

    "You know what? Just marry Uncle Marcus and be done with it. Let¡¯s see if they dare mess with you then. "

    Catherineughed at her own suggestion. "Actually, that¡¯s not a bad idea. Jack would have to call you ¡¯aunt. Can you imagine his face? That would be so satisfying."

    Jack¡¯s POV

    I gripped my mother¡¯s elbow firmly as I guided her through the restaurant, past the curious stares and hushed whispers of people. The red mark on Anna¡¯s cheek burned in my memory, usation in her eyes piercing straight through me.

    "Let go of me, Jack," my mother hissed, trying to wrench her arm away, but I held firm until we reached the exit.

    Mother¡¯s driver hurried to open the car door, and I practically pushed her inside. As I turned around, I caught sight of Lucy standing a few feet away, that practiced wounded expression already firmly in ce.

    "Jack..." Her voice trembled, her eyes wide and glistening with perfectly timed tears.

    My heart instantly turned cold. I had seen everything unfold with perfect rity¡ªif Lucy hadn¡¯t made that provocativement, my mother would never have pped Anna. This was her carefully orchestrated scheme.

    My mother had always disapproved of my marriage to Anna, harboring resentment toward her from the beginning. After finally getting her wish when we divorced, hearing rumors about our reconciliation had naturally sent her into a rage.

    *If only they knew there was nothing to reconcile.*

    My chest tightened with a mixture of anger and helplessness. I wanted tosh out at Lucy, to finally call her out on all her maniptions, but I couldn¡¯t bring myself to do it. The debt I owed to her brother Felix hung around my neck like an albatross¡ªa constant reminder of the promises I¡¯d made. I could only respond coldly:

    "I have things to attend to. The driver will take you home."

    Mother¡¯s driver sensing the tension, immediately approached to escort Lucy to the car. But she stood her ground, tears streaming down her face like perfectly timed raindrops.

    "Jack, are you angry with me? Is it because I said something wrong? I didn¡¯t mean to, I just..."

    Her well-rehearsed performance only increased my disgust. I had seen this act too many times now-the quivering lip, the doe-eyed innocence, the strategic vulnerability that had once made me want to protect her.

    Now it just made me tired.

    "Whether it was intentional or not, you know the truth," I said, my tone ice-cold. "Lucy, don¡¯t take people for fools, because you¡¯re not necessarily smarter than everyone else."

    Something shed in her eyes then¡ªa brief crack in the fa?ade, a glimpse of the calction beneath. It vanished as quickly as it appeared, reced by even more dramatic tears.

    A wave of unprecedented regret washed over me. For years, I¡¯d seen through Lucy¡¯s schemes but continued to tolerate her behavior because of my promise to Felix. Even when she cost Simpson Group significant money on the Phoenix project, I never held it against her. I let her manipte her way into the position of project manager despite her obviousck of qualifications. I let her integrate herself into my family, winning over my mother with ttery and false submission.

    But she shouldn¡¯t have targeted Anna.

    Thinking about Anna made my heart ache like it had been pierced with a needle. The woman I once loved most had suffered because of my inaction.

    How many times had I stood by while my mother undermined her? How many times had I pretended not to notice the way the household staff disrespected her on Lucy¡¯s subtle instructions?

    Remorse and guilt surged through me like a flood, nearly overwhelming me.

    "Stop provoking Anna," I stated, my voice low but resolute, each word forced from the depths of my heart. "I won¡¯t tolerate it anymore."

    I didn¡¯t wait for Lucy¡¯s response. I immediately turned and got into the car, mming the door behind me.

    Inside the luxury sedan, the silence was suffocating. My mother sat across from me, her posture rigid with indignation, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against her handbag.

    Finally, sheughed¡ªa sharp, sarcastic sound that cut through the silence.

    "Now you don¡¯t want Lucy to provoke Anna? Wasn¡¯t it you who allowed it before?"

    Her words left me speechless, a direct hit that struck me with shame and self-reproach. My hands curled into fists on my knees.

    She continued relentlessly: "If you hadn¡¯t tacitly approved, Lucy and I wouldn¡¯t have treated Anna poorly every day; if you hadn¡¯t permitted it, the household staff wouldn¡¯t have disrespected her."

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I still had the p mark on my face, so I didn¡¯t dare go back to Shaw Estate and remained back at Golden-leaf Manor.

    I was halfway through my evening skincare routine when my phone buzzed. The screen lit up with "Mom" and I hesitated before answering.

    "Annie, darling," my mother¡¯s cheerful voice filled the room. "I have wonderful news! An old friend of mine has a son about your age, and we thought it would be lovely if you two met for dinner tomorrow. He¡¯s such a charming young man with excellent prospects¡ª"

    "Let me just be clear - if you¡¯re trying to set me up, just say so. Don¡¯t use these flimsy excuses. You¡¯re my mother, for God¡¯s sake. You really think you can pull one over on me?" I pressed the speaker button on my phone, not bothering to hide the irritation in my voice.

    Mom¡¯s chiding voice filtered through the speaker. "Oh, look who¡¯s so clever while her poor mother is just an idiot, is that it? Fine. The man is someone you already know. Just go and see him, that¡¯s all I¡¯m asking. Both families have already discussed it, but there¡¯s no pressure. If it doesn¡¯t work out, it doesn¡¯t work out."

    "Someone I know?" The mask slipped off my face in surprise as my heartbeat suddenly elerated. "That makes it even worse! How awkward would that be?"

    "How is that awkward? If it doesn¡¯t work out, you¡¯ll just stay friends. You young people are so sensitive about everything." She sighed dramatically.

    "Your grandmother and I both think he¡¯s quite suitable. Just go, if only to humor your mother."

    Hearing her put it that way, I could only swallow my objections and reluctantly agree. After hanging up, an ufortable feeling washed over me.

    Grandmother had always known I wasn¡¯t interested in dating right now and had consistently supported my decisions. Why the sudden change of heart from both of them? I couldn¡¯t make sense of it, but I was too tired to dwell on it further.

    Just as I was about to set my phone down, I realized with horror that I¡¯d identally dialed a number. The name "Uncle Marcus" red at me from the screen. I froze, my mind racing about whether to hang up, but then I thought that ending the call would only make me seem guilty... but guilty of what? What would I even say to him?

    Before I could decide, Marcus¡¯s voice came through the speaker: "Yes?"

    I heard a cacophony of background noise - what sounded like a multilingual meeting in progress.

    Clearly, he was busy, which only made me more flustered. My face grew hot with embarrassment.

    "Nothing important, I was just wondering if you¡¯d arrived safely and how your trip was." I scrambled for an excuse, my voice unintentionally softening.

    The background noise suddenly disappeared - he must have stepped out of the meeting room. "Smooth flight." Just three sybles, delivered without a trace of emotion.

    I¡¯d never felt so awkward on a phone call before. I wanted nothing more than to end it immediately. "That¡¯s good. I¡¯ll let you get back to work, Uncle Marcus."

    "Okay." Still as concise as ever.

    I quickly hung up, fighting the urge to throw my phone across the room in frustration. What a pointless conversation. He probably thought I was strange, like I couldn¡¯t let go of him or something. I took a deep breath and reminded myself: I managed just fine before Marcus Murphy entered my life, and I would continue to do so. Whether dealing with the Simpson family, Samuel Griffin, or the Skke District project, I could handle it all on my own.

    The next day, I deliberately styled myself as an unapproachable career woman - a sophisticated but severe suit, trench coat, hair pulled back into a tight bun, and ck-framed sses.

    The overall effect aged me by at least a decade.

    "Ms. Shaw, what are you..?" Rachel¡¯s expression was priceless when she saw me.

    I pushed my sses up the bridge of my nose with feigned nonchnce. "If I show up to this blind date looking like this, any normal man would have a heart attack, don¡¯t you think?" I secretly congratted myself on my foolproof n.

    During a meetingter that day, I spotted Jack Simpson. He stared at me for a good minute before recognition dawned on his face. Fortunately, we were seated far apart, and I made a swift exit as soon as the meeting concluded, making it clear I had no intention of speaking with him.

    As I arrived at the designated restaurant, I spotted my "blind date" already seated, reading the menu. He wore an impable suit that was The knock on my office door was familiar-three sharp raps, precisely spaced. Peter.

    "Come in," I called, grateful for the interruption from my increasingly distracted thoughts.

    Peter entered with an unusually animated expression, his typically stoic demeanor showing cracks of barely contained excitement.

    "Sir, Ms. Shaw has had a falling out with Samuel. It turns out he was the mastermind behind everything," Peter reported, eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

    At the mention of Anna¡¯s name, my pulse quickened. I carefully kept my expression neutral, though I couldn¡¯t prevent the slight tightening of my fingers on the armrest.

    "Exin," Imanded, my voice deliberately measured.

    "Ms. Shaw is quite remarkable. As soon as you left, she exposed Samuel¡¯s true intentions," Peter continued, admiration evident in his voice. "She arranged a meeting with him at Golden Ember Hotel and confronted him directly. Rather than deny it, he admitted to orchestrating your stabbing and the incident at Olympus Club."

    A surge of pride coursed through me.

    *Of course she figured it out*

    Anna¡¯s intelligence had always been one of her most captivating qualities. In my mind¡¯s eye, I could see her facing Samuel-chin lifted in that defiant angle she adopted when challenged, eyes zing with righteous anger.

    "It seems Samuel noticed your departure and no longer considered Ms. Shaw worth the charade. He admitted everything quite bluntly," Peter exined.

    "What else?" I prompted, back still turned to Peter.

    "Mia also mentioned that when Samuel checked out of the hotel, he discovered Ms. Shaw hadn¡¯t covered his bill. He was furious." A hint of amusement crept into Peter¡¯s voice. "He¡¯s since dismissed Mia as well; she¡¯s returned to Olympus Club. She performed her task perfectly-neither Samuel nor Ms. Shaw suspected she was working for us."

    My lips curled into the ghost of a smile. That small act of defiance was so quintessentially Anna-practical yet pointed.

    "Samuel has been extremely cautious,"Peter continued. "All his important calls are made in secure environments."

    "Quite bold," I muttered, my cold tone masking theplex emotions beneath ¡ªadmiration for Anna¡¯s courage mixed with deep concern for her safety.

 Chapter 49: Grace Under Fire

    <h4>Chapter 49: Grace Under Fire</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "Logan?" I gaped in shock, momentarily forgetting how to respond. My brain short-circuited as I stared at the man across the table.

    "How the hell is it you?"

    Logan chuckled, his eyes wandering over my severe business attire, tight bun, and ck-framed sses. His lips twitched. "Dressed like that? Clearly trying to sabotage the date before it even started, huh?"

    Heat crawled up my neck as I yanked off the unnecessary sses. "My mom said I¡¯d be meeting someone I already knew, but I never imagined it would be you." My fingers fidgeted with the temple of the sses. "I just... I¡¯m focusing on my career right now, not rtionships. Hence the tactical fashion choice."

    After ordering our meals, curiosity got the better of me. "Did Doris tell you I was your blind date?"

    Logan¡¯s smile widened as he poured water into my ss. "Not explicitly.

    She just said she was setting me up with someone I already knew, and I figured it out from there." He shrugged with exaggerated helplessness. "Given my mother¡¯s standards, how many women in Skyview City would she actually approve of as potential daughters-inw?"

    "If you knew it was me, why did you stille?" I asked, increasingly confused.

    Logan¡¯s eyes softened as they met mine. "Consider it making the parents happy. Besides, I needed to talk to you anyway, so I thought I¡¯d kill two birds with one stone and buy you dinner."

    I couldn¡¯t help butugh. "I¡¯m here for the exact same reason-keeping my mother happy. If I¡¯d known it was you, I wouldn¡¯t have been so nervous."

    "Why¡¯s that?" Logan raised an eyebrow.

    The absurdity of the situation hit me all at once, and I burst into genuineughter. "Because going on a date with you feels like... I don¡¯t know, dating my brother or something? I¡¯ve always seen you as an older brother.

    I¡¯d feel the same if I walked in and found Oscar sitting here instead."

    Loganughed with me, the tension between us evaporating. It felt good to just be ourselves again, without the awkward pretense of romantic possibility hanging over us.

    His expression suddenly turned serious, theughter fading from his eyes. "I heard Samuel Griffin met with George Simpson."

    My stomach tightened into a knot.

    "Have you heard anything specific?"

    Logan shook his head, his jaw set in a grim line. "No concrete details yet, but I¡¯m concerned they might join forces." He leaned forward, his voice dropping.

    "Anna, you need to prepare yourself.

    You¡¯ve seen what Samuel is capable of, and if he aligns with the Simpson family, I¡¯m worried about your safety.

    If necessary, that historic building might need to be¡ª" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Your father, if he were here, wouldn¡¯t want to see you hurt because of it."

    A wave of warmth rushed through me at his concern. "Thank you, Logan. I appreciate the warning." But even as I said the words, I knew I had no real options. My only hope was that Samuel and the Simpsons would end up fighting each other, creating a space for me to maneuver.

    "Griffin is dangerous," Logan continued, swirling the water in his ss. "He didn¡¯t be Heritage Group¡¯s heir by being soft."

    I nodded, absorbing his words. "If Heritage and Simpson Groupbine their resources against Shaw Corp..." I didn¡¯t need to finish the thought. We both knew what that meant.

    "Just be careful," Logan said, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand briefly. "I don¡¯t want to see you get hurt."

    When I returned to Shaw Estate, my mother was waiting, practically hovering by the entrance with barely concealed anticipation.

    "So?" she asked, attempting and failing to sound casual. "How was dinner?"

    I brushed past her, heading for the kitchen. "Enlightening."

    She followed me, her steps quick and nervous. "Look, it was all Doris¡¯s idea.

    She said both her sons are avable¡ª if you don¡¯t like Logan, there¡¯s always Oscar."

    I simply hummed nomittally, filling a ss with water.

    Mom pressed on, the words tumbling out faster. "Your grandmother and I both think the Porter boys would be perfect for you. We¡¯ve watched them grow up alongside you. They¡¯re aplished, talented, good-hearted ¡ª truly worthy matches. And since you¡¯re already so familiar with their family, and Doris adores you, there wouldn¡¯t be any of those nasty mother-inw problems."

    I nodded slowly. "That¡¯s quite the sales pitch. Very thorough."

    Mom¡¯s face brightened instantly. "So you like Logan?"

    I continued my humming. "Oh, I¡¯ve always liked Logan. I¡¯ve respected him like an older brother since childhood."

    Her face fell dramatically. "You terrible girl! I knew this would happen." She threw her hands up in exasperation.

    "If you won¡¯t even consider Logan Porter, who *would* you consider?

    Marcus Murphy?"

    "Pffft!" Water sprayed from my mouth as I choked in shock. My eyes widened in horror. "Mom! Do you even hear what you¡¯re saying?"

    My mother seemed equally startled by her own words. "Good heavens, what am I saying?" She pressed her fingers to her lips, looking genuinely aghast.

    "I¡¯m just concerned about you," she recovered quickly, patting my arm.

    "You¡¯ve been through so much, and I want to see you happy."

    I kissed her cheek, promising nothing.

    A weekter, my wounds had improved but were still visible. The uing g demanded my presence ¡ªand my absolute best appearance. I couldn¡¯t afford to look vulnerable, not with so many sharks circling.

    I stood before my closet, contemting my options. Finally, I selected a ck knit dress with a strategic design that concealed my right shoulder and arm injuries while still highlighting my figure. The high neckline was elegant without being prudish, and the skirt hugged my hips before ring out slightly at mid-calf.

    I swept my hair into an intricate updo, exposing the graceful line of my neck, and addedrge pearl earrings and a matching ring-the stark contrast of white against ck creating a dramatic effect.

    When Rachel entered my room to remind me about the time, she stopped in her tracks, her usual professional demeanor momentarily slipping. "Ms. Shaw, you look... stunning."

    I checked my reflection one final time, satisfied with what I saw.

    "Let¡¯s go," I said, gathering my clutch.

    "We don¡¯t want to bete."

    The moment I entered the ballroom, I felt the shift-conversations pausing mid-sentence, heads turning, eyes locking onto me. I kept my chin up, my posture wless, my expression a carefully calibrated blend of confidence and approachability.

    I spotted Catherine across the room, deep in conversation with some celebrity I vaguely recognized. She caught my eye and waved enthusiastically, obviously nning to make her way over at the first opportunity.

    But then I saw him-Samuel Griffin, standing by the champagne fountain, one arm draped possessively around Nora¡¯s waist. My stomach tightened at the sight, but I forced myself to look away before he noticed me staring.

    Toote. Just as I turned, his gaze found mine across the crowded room.

    Anna¡¯s POV

    He had noticed me, and that look in his eyes sent a cold chill down my spine. I watched as he whispered something in Nora¡¯s ear before making his way toward me.

    "Ms. Shaw, it¡¯s been a while," Samuel said as he approached. His posture was rxed, confident-the stance of a predator who believed he had his prey cornered.

    I forced my lips into a polite smile.

    "Mr. Griffin, you¡¯re still in Skyview City. Your business must be going well." My tone remained light, but I kept my guard firmly up.

    Samuel raised his champagne flute, a smirk ying at the corners of his lips. "When Samuel Griffin sets his mind to something, failure is not an option." The threat behind his words hung in the air between us, unmistakable yet impossible to directly call out.

    I simply smiled in response, taking a sip of my own champagne. There was no need to escte things in the middle of a charity g. Besides, antagonizing him openly would only give him the satisfaction of knowing he¡¯d gotten under my skin.

    And then I saw her-Jasmine Butler, the forty-something investment mogul whose career I¡¯d followed since my college days. She stood near one of the fundraising disys, sipping a martini while observing the crowd with keen eyes.

    "If you¡¯ll excuse me, Mr. Griffin, " I said, already moving past him, "there¡¯s someone I need to speak with."

    I didn¡¯t wait for his response, striding purposefully toward Jasmine. Here was a woman who had started with nothing, raised a child as a single mother, and built an empire of five sessful investment firms. If I needed a role model in this male- dominated industry, she was it.

    "Ms. Butler," I greeted her with genuine warmth, extending my hand.

    "I¡¯m Anna Shaw. It¡¯s such an honor to meet you."

    Jasmine¡¯s handshake was firm, her smile reaching her eyes as she assessed me. "The pleasure is mine, Ms. Shaw.

    I¡¯ve heard impressive things about you."

    "All good, I hope," I replied, feeling a girlish nervousness I hadn¡¯t experienced in years.

    "Ms. Shaw, you began managing your family business at eighteen? That¡¯s truly impressive," Jasmine said, studying me with interest.

    I shifted slightly, not wanting to dive into my family history during our first meeting. "Yes, circumstances were...plicated back then." The understanding in her eyes made me rx a little. "But honestly, I admire you more, Ms. Butler. Building five investment firms on your own-you¡¯re my role model."

    Herugh was warm and genuine. "I had my share of sleepless nights and disaster meetings. The morous part onlyes after you¡¯ve survived the struggles."

    We fell into an easy conversation about business strategies and market trends.

    For the first time that evening, I felt truly engaged rather than merely performing the social dance required of me. Jasmine¡¯s insights were sharp, her advice practical, and I found myself absorbing every word.

    Then I heard it-the unmistakable sound of mockingughter just behind me, followed by a voice that was deliberately pitched to carry.

    "Shaw Corp is such a majorpany, yet they only donated $100,000? How stingy."

    My spine stiffened. I didn¡¯t need to turn around to know who was behind this performance.

    "Lucy, your future father-inw is so generous," another voice chimed in.

    "When that Hope Elementary School is built, those children will have Jack¡¯s father to thank."

    My throat tightened. Being publicly humiliated like this stung, especially in front of someone I admired. I caught Jasmine¡¯s eye and saw her watching the scene unfold with interest.

    "Please don¡¯t say that," Lucy¡¯s sharine voice dripped with false modesty. "Mr. Simpson does charity without expecting anything in return.

    Besides, he¡¯s not my father-inw yet.

    Stop saying that or I¡¯ll get upset."

    *God, could she be more obvious?* I wanted to roll my eyes at her transparent performance. Lucy had perfected the art of attacking while appearing to defend.

    "And don¡¯t talk about Anna like that," she continued, her voice a masterpiece of insincere concern. "Whether someone donates a lot or a little, it¡¯s the thought that counts."

    I mentally snorted. *The thought that counts?* This woman was getting better at her backhandedpliments.

    As expected, her friends immediately seized the opening she¡¯d provided.

    "It is the thought that counts-just seems like Anna Shaw doesn¡¯t have much thought for those children in the mountains," one of them said, barely suppressing a giggle.

    "Exactly," another chimed in. "Even the Turner family, who aren¡¯t as wealthy as the Shaws, donated $100,000. And the Porters, who are close to the Shaw family, donated $300,000."

    I took a deep breath, forcing my shoulders to rx. Turning to Jasmine, I decided to be straightforward. "Cash flow has been tighttely," I admitted.

    "Sorry you had to witness that, Ms. Butler."

    Jasmine waved her hand dismissively, a knowing smile ying on her lips.

    "What¡¯s there to be sorry about? Every businessperson goes through cash crunches. I once attended charity events without donating a cent. I was so broke I could barely make payroll.

    If I hadn¡¯t finally turned things around, who knows what I¡¯d be doing now. Don¡¯t feel embarrassed."

    Her candor was refreshing, washing away my difort in an instant. "I¡¯m not embarrassed, really. I was just worried you might think poorly of me.

    Ms. Butler, I¡¯d love to learn from you ¨CI wouldn¡¯t want you thinking I¡¯m stingy."

    "Stingy?" She chuckled. "That¡¯s not the word thates to mind when I hear your name. ¡¯Resilient¡¯ is more like it."

    Just as I was about to respond, Catherine¡¯s voice cut through the air like a whip crack.

    "Some people never learn. Lucy Taylor, didn¡¯t that p hurt enoughst time?

    Why are you here putting down Anna Shaw? Is your name on the donation list?" She stalked toward Lucy¡¯s little group, her eyes zing. "Lucy, how much did you donate anyway?"

 Chapter 50: Not Yours to Touch

    <h4>Chapter 50: Not Yours to Touch</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    My lips twitched with the effort not to smile. Trust Catherine toe charging to my defense like an avenging angel in heels.

    Lucy immediately pivoted to her favorite role the victim. "Catherine, I¡¯m just here with Jack," she said, eyes widening in feigned innocence.

    "Charity events like this are meant for established families-it¡¯s not my ce as a young woman to take the lead."

    Her friends closed ranks around her.

    "Miss Murphy, everyone knows you¡¯re close with Anna Shaw," one of them said, indignation coloring her voice.

    "Even if you want to stand up for her, you shouldn¡¯t bully Lucy."

    "That¡¯s right," another added. "Anna is already divorced from Jack Simpson, and Jack is going to marry Lucy. Lucy is your cousin¡¯s future wife, after all.Did you donate money?"

    I watched Catherine fold her arms across her chest, her expression one of pure disdain. Someone from the crowd, apparently checking the donation disy, whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear:

    "Catherine¡¯s name is actually on the list¡ªshe donated $80,000."

    Lucy and her friends fell silent.

    Catherine didn¡¯t miss a beat. "People who haven¡¯t donated a cent should keep their mouths shut. Who are you to judge how much others give? Even if someone donated just ten dors, it¡¯s not for your nasty mouth toment on."

    I bit the inside of my cheek to keep fromughing as Lucy¡¯s group retreated, thoroughly chastened.

    Walking forward, I ced a hand on Catherine¡¯s arm, giving it a grateful squeeze before making introductions.

    "Ms. Butler, may I introduce Catherine Murphy? Catherine, this is Jasmine Butler."

    "I¡¯ve heard so much about you, Ms. Butler," Catherine said, her business instincts immediately kicking in. "If you have any profitable venturesing up, would you keep me in mind?"

    I smiled indulgently at my friend¡¯s directness. "Our Miss Murphy only loves two things: freedom and investment."

    Jasmine seemed more amused than put off by Catherine¡¯s straightforwardness.

    "Next time I have a project suitable for you, Miss Murphy, I promise you¡¯ll be the first to know."

    I watched as Jasmine Butler slid into her ck Bentley, the driver closing the door with practiced precision. The cool evening air felt refreshing against my skin after the stuffy atmosphere of the g. Around us, a parade of luxury vehicles rolled through the circr driveway, valets rushing between them with keys jangling in their hands.

    As her car pulled away, I exhaled deeply, feeling the tension finally drain from my body. I turned to Catherine, wrapping an arm around her waist and leaning against her slightly.

    "Thanks, babe." My voice came out in a near-whisper, fatigue suddenly washing over me. "I owe you dinner for that save back there with Lucy."

    Catherine¡¯s shoulder bumped mine yfully, but I could sense something different in her demeanor¡ªa subtle undercurrent of restlessness that wasn¡¯t typically there.

    "Don¡¯t mention it. Besides, I genuinely want to work with Jasmine too. I¡¯m not getting any younger, and I can¡¯t just keep floating around doing nothing forever." Her tone aimed for casual, but missed the mark by inches.

    I straightened up, studying her face in the soft glow of the exterior lighting.

    "What¡¯s going on? Did your parents say something?"

    Catherine held up two fingers, a sh of irritation crossing her features.

    "Marriage or career, pick one." A defiant snort escaped her. "Are they kidding? What¡¯s so great about marriage? Unless I find a man who makes me want to say yes willingly, nobody¡¯s forcing me into anything."

    I nodded, a surge of admiration rising in my chest. "So you chose career.

    Good for you."

    "I¡¯m serious-if you¡¯re going after the Skke District, count me in." Her eyes locked onto mine with surprising intensity.

    My heart warmed at her offer, but caution tempered my reaction.

    "We can do that," I said after a thoughtful pause, "but we should sign a proper agreement. Business is business, even between friends."

    Catherine rolled her eyes, waving dismissively. "Fine, fine, whatever you say. I¡¯ll set up thepany right away so my parents and Simon can stop nagging me."

    That caught me off guard. "What does Simon have to do with you starting apany?"

    She sighed, frustration radiating from her in waves. "That little brat¡¯s getting too big for his britches, wants to follow Uncle Marcus¡¯s footsteps and build his own empire overseas. He¡¯s trying to dump Murphy Global in myp." She shook her head, lips pressed into a tight line. "But in this economic climate, what¡¯s he going to aplish out there?"

    I waited, sensing there was more.

    "Besides, I¡¯m not like you, Anna." Her voice dropped, vulnerability seeping through the cracks of her usual confident facade. "I don¡¯t have the confidence to take over Murphy Global. If anything went wrong under my watch, I¡¯d be the family disgrace forever."

    "You know me-I¡¯m used to my freedom," she continued, her eyes reflecting a yearning I recognized all too well. "I just want a smallpany to y with, and someone to manage it for me. Meanwhile, I can do whatever I want, go wherever I please."

    "Alright, call me when you¡¯re ready," I said, giving her arm a gentle squeeze.

    "¡¯ll help you figure it out."

    She smiled, the tension in her shoulders visibly easing. A ck Escde pulled up, and her driver stepped out, nodding respectfully in our direction.

    "That¡¯s my ride," Catherine said, suppressing a yawn. "Time to call it a night."

    We exchanged quick goodbyes, and I watched as she climbed into the SUV and disappeared into the night traffic of Skyview City.

    Turning back toward the g, I decided to make a final round of goodbyes.

    As I walked past a private lounge area, a strong hand suddenly shot out from the doorway, grabbing my wrist and pulling me inside with surprising force. The door mmed shut behind me with a loud bang, the sound echoing in the small space.

    My heart lurched into my throat, adrenaline flooding my system. I whirled around, ready to defend myself, when my eyes locked with a familiar pair.

    "You?" I blurted out.

    Samuel¡¯s POV

    "You¡¯re still here?" I asked irritably, bracing one hand against the wall, effectively caging her between my body and the wallpaper. I knew I reeked of alcohol and sweat, but the uncontroble fire coursing through my body was far worse.

    Seeing Anna pressed against the wall trying to escape gave me a twisted sense of satisfaction.

    "When I leave is none of your business, Mr. Griffin," she responded, feigningposure though her pulse visibly raced at her throat.

    "You really are... asking for trouble," I managed through gritted teeth, fighting against the raging inferno inside me. I could feel veins pulsing at my temples, my vision swimming with need.

    Her eyes narrowed, scanning my face.

    "Are you drunk or have you been... drugged?"

    The question cut through my haze momentarily. Drugged? The possibility hadn¡¯t even urred to me, but it made sense.

    I didn¡¯t want to admit I¡¯d been caught off guard, but I was in too much difort to maintain the pretense.

    I¡¯d only intended to grab a random server to help relieve my condition, nning to pay them off generously afterward. Never did I expect to pull in Anna Shaw of all people.

    I forced my face into a casual, flirtatious expression. "That¡¯s right, Ms. Shaw. I¡¯m in quite a state, and since you¡¯ve interrupted my ns, perhaps you could be a good Samaritan?" I blew gently on her ear, deliberately provocative despite the way my lungs burned for oxygen.

    "I¡¯m sorry, Mr. Griffin, but I¡¯ve never been much for charity work. You¡¯ll need to find someone else," she tried to push me away, but I didn¡¯t budge.

    Though I¡¯d cultivated the image of just yboy, my chest and arms possessed genuine strength. I looked her up and down shamelessly: "Finding someone else wouldn¡¯t be nearly as exciting as you, Ms. Shaw. With looks like yours, anyone would be tempted."

    I moved closer to her ear, my burning lips almost touching her earlobe: "I told you before, I¡¯m interested in you."

    The moment those words left my mouth, a searing pain shot up from my groin. I doubled over, clutching myself, my face instantly turning dark as agony exploded through my lower body. "You... you bitch..." The pain was so intense I couldn¡¯t even finish my sentence.

    "My looks came from my parents, not for perverts like you to fantasize about," Anna dered, looking down at me with undisguised triumph. "Mr. Griffin, this is karma for all your misdeeds!"

    The pain forced me to close my eyes, cold sweat breaking out on my forehead even as the rest of my body continued to burn. She poked my shoulder, her voiceced with satisfaction: "Not feeling so predatory now, are you? See, one move from me and you¡¯re cured. No need to thank me."

    I leaned against the wall, hunched over, in too much pain to even retort.

    The drug still raged through my system, but the agony she¡¯d inflicted had momentarily overpowered it.

    "Um, are you... broken?" Anna suddenly looked worried, which surprised me.

    I didn¡¯t answer, but when she took out her phone to record video, I wished I could smash it to pieces.

    "Mr. Griffin, here¡¯s the deal. I¡¯ll take you to the hospital. But to ensure you don¡¯t try to me meter, I¡¯m recording this as evidence. You¡¯ve been drugged, right? You¡¯re in pain, correct?"

    I red at her with pure venom, mentally imagining terrible revenge scenarios. The pain was something only men could truly understand, and this damned woman wasn¡¯t rushing to help me but was instead recording me in my weakest moment!

    "Mr. Griffin, if you don¡¯t nod, I¡¯m leaving, and tonight¡¯s events will have nothing to do with me."

    Assessing the situation, I realized being seen in this state by Anna alone was better than being exposed to everyone at the g. With extreme reluctance, I nodded.

    "Mr. Griffin, you forced my hand. I¡¯m no match for you physically, and if you recover tomorrow and decide to cause trouble for me, I¡¯d be in a difficult position," Anna said with satisfaction as she backed up the video. "Rest assured, as long as I remain safe, no one else will see this video."

    "Stop talking and get me to a hospital," I said through clenched teeth. If I didn¡¯t get medical attention soon, I felt I might explode from thebination of drug-induced heat and the throbbing pain between my legs.

    Seeing Anna take out her phone again, I became alert: "What are you doing now?"

    "Calling my security team..." she began, but I cut her off.

    "Don¡¯t call anyone," I said coldly.

    "Either you take me to the hospital yourself, or I¡¯ll use you as my remedy right here." Despite being in excruciating pain, I maintained my intimidating demeanor, refusing to appearpletely vulnerable.

    When we left the private room, the hallway was mercifully empty. I straightened my posture, pretending nothing was wrong, deliberately draping my arm around Anna¡¯s shoulders and enjoying her obvious difort.

    "Mr. Griffin, don¡¯t push your luck," she warned through gritted teeth.

    The intense pain had subsided somewhat, but I was still fighting waves of heat coursing through my body. I leaned in close to her ear with a mockingugh: "If you want me to take you, just say so. I promise you¡¯ll see stars."

    Seeing her trying to move her head away, I deliberately moved closer:

    "What should we do, Ms. Shaw? It seems our fate isn¡¯t finished yet."

    "Mr. Griffin, you¡¯d better behave.

    Getting to the hospital quickly is important-your future happiness depends on it," she said coldly, which effectively silenced me. I had no desire to risk permanent damage to my "manhood."

    Rachel Wilson suddenly appeared, her eyes widening at the sight of us: "Ms. Shaw, what¡¯s going on...?"

    "Quick, help me get Mr. Griffin to the hospital," Anna said, eagerly pushing me toward Rachel as if she¡¯d found a lifeline.

    In the car, I gulped down ice water from the minibar, which did ease the burning sensation somewhat. However, the area Anna had struck still throbbed painfully¡ªI was afraid to touch it, uncertain it there was any damage. The drug still pulsed through my system, but the pain and cold water had diluted its worst effects.

    I leaned back against the seat, closing my eyes and beginning to mentally review everyone I¡¯d encountered that evening. I¡¯d primarily been drinking with George and Jack ... aside from them, who else could have drugged me?

    Lucy¡¯s POV

    I stood at the hotel entrance, watching until Anna¡¯s carpletely disappeared from view before finally putting away my phone. I couldn¡¯t help the smile that crept across my lips -what perfect timing. Samuel and Anna leaving together? This "fact" would be my perfect weapon, requiring no fabrication to drive a wedge between them.

    When I spotted Jack heading my way, I quickly adjusted my expression, stering on a mask of genuine concern before hurrying toward him.

    "Jack, are you looking for Samuel? I just saw him leave with Anna." I made my voice sound slightly urgent, looking directly into his eyes with feigned helpfulness.

    Jack¡¯s face immediately darkened, his piercing gaze fixed on me. "Lucy, how can you lie so easily? Anna and Samuel have fallen outpletely¡ª they wouldn¡¯t leave together."

    I pouted, deliberately making my eyes water as I adopted the expression of someone unjustly used.

    "Jack, don¡¯t you trust me? I¡¯m not lying to you, and I certainly don¡¯t want to incriminate Anna. She really did leave with Samuel. I tried to call out to them, but they¡¯d already gotten into Anna¡¯s car and driven away. Jack, everything I¡¯m saying is true."

    I calcted every expression and tone with clinical precision, tears welling up perfectly in my eyes without falling.

    This was my specialty-innocent, sincere Lucy Taylor, the poor girl who only wanted to help but was misunderstood instead.

    However, Jack¡¯s reaction caught mepletely off guard. He violently shook off my hand, his eyes filled with disappointment and anger: "ENOUGH!

    I don¡¯t want to hear another negative word about Anna from your mouth.

    You think I don¡¯t know about the conversation you had with your friends at the party today? Lucy, I¡¯m so disappointed in you."

    I stood frozen, watching in shock as he walked away without looking back. He knew about my conversation with my friends! The carefully crafted image of innocence I¡¯d built was crumbling before my eyes! For a moment, I felt both furious and panicked, but I quickly regained myposure.

    After Jack left, I remained standing there, all traces of hurt and sadness instantly vanishing from my face, reced by a cold smile.

    This attempt may have failed to drive a wedge between them, but I certainly wasn¡¯t giving up. Jack¡¯s reaction today only confirmed what I¡¯d begun to suspect-his feelings for Anna hadn¡¯t died.

    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and

    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 51: Still the Queen

    <h4>Chapter 51: Still the Queen</h4>

    Rachel¡¯s POV

    I stood in the hospital room watching Samuel Griffin. The doctors had treated the aphrodisiac in his system.

    His face was no longer red, his breathing normal, but fury filled his eyes.

    "Your boss made a mistake," Samuel said, ring at me from the bed. "Tell Anna Shaw I won¡¯t forget tonight."

    I met his gaze. "Mr. Griffin, the doctors say you¡¯ll recover fully. This ended well for everyone."

    His jaw clenched. "I can¡¯t have sex for a month. Do you know what that means for someone like me?"

    "Medical advice should be taken seriously," I replied. "Ms. Shaw brought you to the hospital immediately. You should thank her."

    I picked up my purse. "We did what anyone would do. No need for thanks."

    Thement silenced him. I turned, and walked to the door.

    I crossed the parking lot. Ms. Shaw waited in her car near the entrance.

    When I opened the door, she reclined in the driver¡¯s seat with eyes closed.

    "Let¡¯s go," she said without looking.

    "I¡¯m dead tired."

    I got in, studying her face. The g had exhausted her-shadows showed under her makeup.

    "Rosa Vi is closer," I suggested. "We could stay there tonight."

    Ms. Shaw opened her eyes, frowned, then nodded. "Fine."

    She didn¡¯t ask about Samuel, and I didn¡¯t say anything. The drive to Rosa Vi was silent.

    The house was dark when we arrived.

    No one had been here since Mr. Murphy left, but the management service kept it clean.

    "T¡¯ll prepare the bedroom," I said.

    "Want something to eat?"

    "No." She headed upstairs. "Just a shower and sleep."

    Ms. Shaw emerged from the bathroom in a robe. Iid out pajamas from the emergency bag I keep in the car.

    "Get the scar cream from my purse," she said. "Oscar said apply it every night."

    I got the cream as shey on her stomach, robe pulled down to expose her back. Red marks from her jump at Olympus Club stood out against her skin.

    As I applied cream to the wounds, she tensed beneath my fingers.

    "Samuel will recover," I said. "Though he can¡¯t have sex for a month."

    Ms. Shaw made a sound like a suppressedugh. "That¡¯s torture for someone with his reputation."

    "He was displeased," I said, applying cream to a scrape on her shoulder.

    "Will he seek revenge on you?"

    Anna¡¯s POV

    The few sses of champagne I¡¯d had at the charity g had left me with a pleasant buzz but no desire to sleep.

    Restless, I reached for my phone on the nightstand. Before I could think better of it, my fingers were already typing a message to the mysterious man from room 3303 at Sapphire Sky Hotel.

    [Meet up?)

    The directness of my own message surprised me. I stared at the screen, my heartbeat quickening as I waited for his response. It came just secondster, a single word:

    [No.]

    "Typical," I muttered, tossing my phone onto the duvet beside me. A sh of irritation surged through me.

    During our brief encounters, he¡¯d made his interest in me painfully obvious. And now that I was actually reaching out, he dismissed me with a single word?

    I grabbed a pillow and pressed it over my face, trying to smother the conflicting emotions bubbling inside me. Then my phone lit up again. I snatched it up, half-expecting some lengthy exnation.

    Instead, there was just one more word:

    [Busy.)

    I raised an eyebrow, feeling oddly vindicated by this addition. At least he felt the need to exin his refusal. The irritation began to dissolve, reced by a reluctant understanding. Considering his physique and...other qualities, I supposed I could forgive this one instance. After all, Mr. 3303 had earned some grace with his performance.

    I ced the phone face down on the nightstand and pulled the covers up.

    This time, sleep came more easily.

    Hearing Rachel¡¯s words, I sighed, "Samuel is a vindictive bastard, but I¡¯m prepared. Make sure you keep that video I sent you."

    "Understood," Rachel nodded, her eyes reflecting trust in me.

    "I wonder who drugged him tonight," I murmured, more thinking aloud than asking.

    Rachel pondered for a moment before saying, "Recently, I haven¡¯t heard of Samuel being close to anyone except the Simpson family. But since Samuel is already in contact with the Simpson family, surely they wouldn¡¯t do something like this right now?"

    "That¡¯s not necessarily true. George and Samuel are cut from the same cloth-equally ruthless in their methods," I replied with sarcasm and mockery. This was the first time I¡¯d spoken so candidly about my former father-inw. Before, no matter what I thought, I would never easily reveal my opinions about him, but now, all pretense and respect had vanished.

    "Ms. Shaw, we have a situation."

    Rachel¡¯s voice, tinged with unusual concern, interrupted my morning skincare ritual.

    "What happened?" I asked casually.

    "You¡¯re trending online."

    I shrugged. "That¡¯s nothing new. My evening gown fromst night must have created quite a stir." My dress had been a calcted choice elegant yet daring, designed to make a statement without appearing desperate for attention.

    Rachel shifted her weight, clutching her tablet tightly. "Your gown did trend, yes, but there¡¯s something else¡ª rumors about you and Samuel."

    That got my attention. "Samuel and me?" I turned to face her directly.

    "What kind of rumors?"

    She handed me her tablet without a word. The screen disyed a series of photographs taken atst night¡¯s g ¡ªall featuring Samuel and me leaving together. While only our backs were visible in most shots, my distinctive dress made me immediately identifiable.

    "The initial trending topic was about your stunning appearance," Rachel exined, "but these rtionship rumors just surfaced. I suspect someone paid to promote them." She pointed to several details in the photos. "Moreover, all press had left thetter half of the g-they weren¡¯t allowed to stay. From the image quality, these were definitely taken with a smartphone."

    I nodded, quickly following her reasoning. "So you¡¯re suggesting whoever took these photos and pushed the story is the same person, and likely someone who has a grudge against me?"

    "Precisely. And I have a strong suspicion about who it might be."

    "Who?" Although I already had my own suspicions.

    "Lucy."

    Anna¡¯s POV

    At the mention of Lucy¡¯s name, I took the tablet from Rachel¡¯s hands and carefully scrolled through the photos again. The angles were deliberately misleading¡ªin one, Samuel appeared to be whispering intimately in my ear; in another, a dismissive nce I¡¯d thrown his way had been captured in a way that made it look like a coy smile.

    "It must be her," I agreed, a coldugh escaping my lips. "Look at these camera angles¡ªin this one, Samuel¡¯s face is practically pressed against mine.

    And this one? I never smiled at him like that. That was clearly a dismissive smirk."

    I scrolled through thements, each one more vicious than thest. They spected wildly about my "rtionship" with Samuel, suggesting I was desperate to align myself with Heritage Group. Some even implied I¡¯d orchestrated my divorce from Jack to pursue wealthier, more powerful men.

    Thements made my blood boil, but I refused to let it show. Instead, I exited that trending topic and clicked on the one about my appearance at the g.

    Here, the tone was entirely different.

    Users had posted multiple high-quality photos of me, captured by professional photographers before they¡¯d been asked to leave. Thements were universally positive:

    [Anna is absolutely stunning! She should be on runways instead of in boardrooms¡ªbut we¡¯re d she¡¯s blessing the business world with her presence.]

    (Perfect figure, gorgeous face, impable style this woman has it all!]

    [Whoever started those other rumors is clearly just jealous of her. No question.]

    By the time I handed the tablet back to Rachel, my mood had miraculously stabilized. Compared to the genuine admiration I received for simply being myself, the manufactured scandal seemed insignificant.

    "Should I arrange for someone to check the security footage? If Lucy is behind this, she must have left some evidence," Rachel asked cautiously.

    I returned my attention to my skincare routine, pumping a small amount of moisturizer onto my fingertips. "Don¡¯t bother. Do you really think I¡¯m worried about rumors like this? If I dealt with every piece of gossip, I¡¯d have time for nothing else."

    Just then, the doorbell downstairs rang frantically. Not knowing who it was, Rachel went down to check.

    I pulled out a soft gray knit dress and paired it with a camel-colored cardigan ¡ªperfect for the light rain currently falling outside.

    I had just taken off my pajamas when rapid footsteps approached my bedroom, apanied by Rachel¡¯s urgent voice:

    "Mr. Simpson, you can¡¯t go in there!

    Ms. Shaw isn¡¯t receiving visitors right now."

    Hearing Jack¡¯s name, my body instantly tensed. I hastily wrapped my robe around my half-dressed body and moved toward the door, ready to confront him.

    I reached the door just as it began to open, catching a glimpse of Jack¡¯s determined expression. Without hesitation, I mmed it shut with enough force to make the wood frame shudder.

    I stared at the door I¡¯d just mmed in Jack¡¯s face, my heart racing. The nerve of that man, barging into Rosa Vi like he still had some im to me or this ce.

    "Anna, we need to talk," Jack called through the door, his voice muffled but still carrying thatmanding tone I¡¯d grown to detest.

    "I¡¯m changing," I replied coolly. "Wait downstairs if you must, but I¡¯m not discussing anything with you half-dressed."

    Silence followed, then the sound of retreating footsteps. I exhaled slowly, my shoulders rxing as I moved away from the door.

    I slipped out of my robe and quickly dressed. As I stepped into a pair offortable ts, I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror.

    The woman staring back at me looked nothing like the polished, untouchable figure fromst night¡¯s charity g.

    Gone was the sleek updo and statement jewelry, reced by soft waves and minimal makeup. This version of me looked more approachable.

    When I descended the stairs, I found Jack standing in the living room with Rachel hovering nearby, her posture tense and watchful. Jack¡¯s eyes snapped to me immediately, tracking my movement as I reached the bottom step.

    "You¡¯re going out," he stated, his tone somewhere between usation and disbelief.

    I deliberately maintained my distance, positioning myself near the entry table where I ced my purse. Rachel moved to stand slightly behind me, a silent ally.

    "I have a lunch appointment," I replied evenly, checking my watch with exaggerated care. A flicker of annoyance passed through me-why did he always feel entitled to exnations about my life? "If there¡¯s nothing urgent, Mr. Simpson, I¡¯d prefer if you said nothing at all."

    I knew him too well-the slight narrowing of his eyes, the tightening of his jaw. Even before he opened his mouth, I could predict his next words with depressing uracy.

    "With whom?" he demanded, that familiar possessive edge creeping into his voice.

    "How is that any of your business?" I asked, my voice dropping several degrees colder.

    Jack took a step closer, his expression hardening. "Is it Samuel?"

    Of course. He was still fixated on those ridiculous rumors. A sharp painnced through a tender spot in my heart¡ªa ce that once held trust and hope, now housing only disappointment and hurt.

    I sighed beyond the point of exnations. "Think whatever you want, Jack."

    I turned toward the door, gesturing for Rachel to follow. "Lock up when you leave," I added without looking back, my hand already on the doorknob.

    "Anna¡ª" he started, but I was already stepping outside, letting the door close firmly behind me.

    Once inside the car, Rachel turned to me with a curious expression. "Ms. Shaw, why didn¡¯t you just tell Mr. Simpson the truth? About your lunch with Mr. William Murphy?"

    "Let him believe what he wants," I said softly, a barely perceptible note of sadness coloring my voice. "If his misunderstanding keeps him away, all the better."

 Chapter 52: The Lie Between Us

    <h4>Chapter 52: The Lie Between Us</h4>

    Jack¡¯s POV

    I stood in the living room of Rosa Vi, the door still vibrating from the force with which it had closed behind Anna. The message couldn¡¯t have been clearer if she¡¯d painted it on the wall¡ª she didn¡¯t care enough to even offer an exnation. The utter dismissal left me feeling hollow, like I¡¯d be nothing more than a nuisance to be brushed aside.

    "Jack...

    I turned to see Lucy standing behind me, her eyes filled with unmistakable sympathy. I hadn¡¯t even noticed her following me here.

    "Anna¡¯s already gone, Jack," she said softly. "She doesn¡¯t care about you anymore."

    Her words pierced through me like shards of ss. My ears rang with denial, my mind refusing to process what she was saying. This can¡¯t be happening. Not Anna. Not like this.

    How could the woman who once pledged herself to me at the altar change sopletely? The Anna I knew would have at least offered an exnation, would have cared enough to clear up a misunderstanding. We had built a life together, shared dreams, made promises-how could all of that evaporate so quickly?

    I shook my head, my throat constricting painfully. "She wouldn¡¯t..."

    Lucy¡¯s eyes reddened as she stepped closer. "Jack, I wasn¡¯t lying to you. You saw the photos online, didn¡¯t you?

    Anna really did leave with Samuelst night."

    The evidence crashed down on me like a physical weight. The pictures didn¡¯t lie-Anna and Samuel, leaving together, his hand possessively ced on her lower back. All those whispers at the g suddenly made sense. My chest tightened with each breath, reality finally breaking through my desperate denial.

    "Jack, I might envy Anna," Lucy continued, her voice catching. "But I would never lie to you about this. You used me unfairly."

    Tears began streaming down her face, silent but impossible to ignore.

    Watching her, I felt a stab of guilt pierce through my pain. I had taken my frustration out on her, ming the messenger for a message I didn¡¯t want to hear.

    I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to keep my own emotions in check. The mixture of hurt, jealousy, and regret was overwhelming, threatening to pull me under. With a heavy sigh, I awkwardly ced my hand on her shoulder.

    "I¡¯m sorry," I managed, my voice rough. "I was wrong to use you.

    What do you want? I¡¯ll get it for you."

    The words came out t and mechanical, but it was the best I could offer in my state. A peace offering, a way to make amends for misdirecting my anger.

    Like flipping a switch, Lucy¡¯s expression transformed. The tears still glistened on her cheeks, but a smile now brightened her face. "I don¡¯t want anything," she assured me. "I just want you to be happy. Please don¡¯t be sad anymore."

    I attempted a smile in return, but it felt like a grimace,sting only a fraction of a second before my face fell back into its natural state of misery.

    "Come on," I said, already moving toward the door. "I¡¯ll take you home before heading to Simpson Group."

    Anna¡¯s POV

    At the Murphy Estate, I had just finished telling Catherine about what happenedst night.

    Catherine¡¯s eyes were wide open.

    "Annie, you¡¯re absolutely insane! If that bastard had really gotten hurt, you¡¯d bepletely screwed." She shook her head in disbelief.

    I shrugged with practiced nonchnce, hoping she couldn¡¯t detect the nervousness fluttering beneath myposed exterior. "I didn¡¯t have time to think it through. He was drugged, aggressive, and I was trapped in a room with him. What was I supposed to do? Let him use me as his remedy?"

    I took another sip of tea, avoiding her gaze. "Besides, he crossed paths with me at exactly the wrong moment.

    That¡¯s his bad luck, not mine."

    Catherine leaned forward, even though we were alone, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper: "Samuel isn¡¯t someone who forgets slights. You basically incapacitated him, then abandoned him at a hospital. He¡¯s definitely going to seek revenge." Her manicured nails tapped anxiously against the armrest. "I¡¯m serious, Annie. That man is dangerous."

    "I¡¯ve already made an enemy of him," I replied, setting my cup down with more force than necessary. "What¡¯s one more offense at this point? I¡¯m not afraid of him." The words came out strong and confident, but internally, I knew the situation was far from resolved. Samuel wasn¡¯t the type to let things go, especially when his pride had been wounded so publicly.

    I had specificallye to have lunch with William today, and after chatting with Catherine for a while, I got up to find William.

    Ever since sending Marcus back to Europe, I had been afraid to face William. After all, Marcus left because of my rejection.

    The rain outside had stopped, and William wasn¡¯t in the living room but in the garden outside.

    "Annie!" His face lit up with genuine warmth as he waved me over. "Perfect timing. Come,e. I have something fascinating to show you."

    Relief washed over me at his weing tone. I noticed an elegant birdcage on the stone table. Inside perched a sleek gray bird with a vibrant red tail, watching me with an intelligence that was almost unsettling.

    "William, what kind of bird is this?" I asked, leaning closer to examine the creature. Its dark eyes followed my movement with eerie focus. "It looks remarkably... aware."

    William¡¯sughter filled the room, a deep, genuine sound that had always made me feel at home. "This is an African Grey parrot. His name is Einstein, and he¡¯s quite the genius." He beamed with the pride of a new parent. "Watch this."

    Just as I was wondering what was so special about this particr bird, it suddenly opened its beak and spoke in a clear, oddly British ent: "All style, no substance!"

    I jerked back in shock, nearly toppling the nearby side table. "William! Did that bird just insult me?" My voice rose in both outrage and amazement.

    "It¡ªit¡¯s actually talking!"

    William¡¯s shoulders shook with mirth.

    "What do you think, Annie?

    Impressive, isn¡¯t he? I traded him from Joseph¡¯s grandfather for a bottle of my best Scotch and quite a bit of begging." He reached out to gently stroke the bird¡¯s head with one finger. "Joseph¡¯s grandfather trained him personally."

    "That exins the attitude," I said, eyeing the bird with newfound respect.

    "These insults are definitely Joseph¡¯s grandfather¡¯s style." I wiggled my fingers at the cage yfully. "Hey there, Einstein. Got anypliments in that repertoire of yours, or is it all criticism?"

    The parrot tilted its head, seeming to consider me for a moment before squawking: "Faker, faker!"

    I gasped in mock offense, cing a hand over my heart. "Excuse me? You mouthy little bird!" But I couldn¡¯t suppress my smile.

    "Troublemaker, troublemaker!"

    Einstein continued, bobbing his head up and down with obvious delight at having captured my full attention.

    "Featherbrain, featherbrain!" I retorted, leaning toward the cage with hands on my hips.

    To my satisfaction, the parrot appeared genuinely affronted. It fluffed its feathers and hopped to the other side of its perch, finally turning its back to me with what could only be described as avian disgust.

    I looked up at William with sudden concern. "Oh no, I didn¡¯t actually hurt his feelings, did I?"

    William was practically wiping tears from his eyes. "Einstein has never been bested in a battle of wits before.

    He usually has thest word with everyone. He met his match today!" His eyes crinkled with genuine affection as he regarded me.

    Something in his gaze-that same warmth, that same eptance I¡¯d always found in the Murphy homemade my throat tighten with emotion.

    William wasn¡¯t just being polite; he was deliberately showing me that nothing had changed between us, that Marcus¡¯s departure hadn¡¯t altered my standing in his eyes.

    "William," I said softly, unable to keep the emotion from my voice, "you¡¯re too good to me."

    He waved away my words with a gentle dismissal. "Nonsense. You¡¯re family, Annie. That doesn¡¯t change with theings and goings of anyone, not even my son."

    I swallowed hard, unexpectedly moved by his simple deration. Before I could respond, the door opened, and the butler entered carrying a tablet.

    "Mr. Murphy, I apologize for the interruption," he said with a slight bow. "There¡¯s a video call. Mr. Marcus Murphy is on the line."

    Anna¡¯s POV

    William¡¯s face lit up instantly. "Perfect timing! Bring it here, please."

    The butler handed him the tablet and discreetly withdrew. William adjusted his position on the bench, patting the seat beside him. "Come sit, Annie.

    Let¡¯s see what my wayward son is up to."

    I hesitated, suddenly feeling like an intruder. "Maybe I should give you some privacy? I can wait inside_"

    "Nonsense," William interrupted, already tapping the screen to ept the call. "Marcus would want to see you too."

    Before I could protest further, the screen fickered to life, revealing Marcus sitting in what appeared to be a luxurious hotel room. His hair was damp, and he wore only a ck silk robe loosely tied at the waist. He¡¯d clearly just stepped out of the shower.

    "Marcus!" William¡¯s voice boomed with delight. "Finally remembering your poor old father, are you?"

    Marcus¡¯s expression remained impassive, though I detected a subtle softening around his eyes. "Father.

    You look well."

    "And you look like you¡¯re working yourself to death again," William replied, his tone half-joking, half-concerned. "When was thest time you had a proper sleep?"

    Marcus nced down, adjusting something off-screen. "Just signed a major contract. The negotiations took longer than expected."

    I tried to shrink back out of the camera¡¯s view, but William suddenly angled the tablet to include me. "Look who¡¯s here with me, Marcus! Annie came to visit."

    "Hello, Uncle Marcus," I finally said, actually inquiring about his injury.

    "How are you?"

    Marcus¡¯s gaze locked onto mine through the screen, his dark eyes unreadable. The silence stretched, bing ufortably taut.

    "Marcus," William prompted, a hint of reprimand in his voice. "Annie asked how you are."

    "Fine," Marcus replied curtly, understanding the true meaning behind my words, his gaze still fixed on me. "And you?"

    "I¡¯m well too, thank you," I answered.

    Marcus nodded once, his expression unchanged. Then, without warning, he asked: "What about that trending topic? The one with you and Griffin."

    I felt my cheeks flush with heat.

    "You. know about that?"

    William seemed to sense the tension, rising abruptly to his feet. "You know what? I think Einstein needs some fresh air. I¡¯ll take him for a little walk around the garden." He picked up the birdcage, already moving toward the path. "Annie, you and Marcus catch up. I¡¯ll be back in a bit."

    "Scoundrel! Scoundrel!" Einstein squawked indignantly, pping his wings in protest at being moved.

    Marcus¡¯s brow furrowed as he leaned closer to the screen. "What is that?"

    "A parrot," I exined quickly.

    "Hmm," was all Marcus said in response.

    Once William was out of earshot, Marcus¡¯s full attention returned to me, his gaze intensifying. "Tell me about the news report. What happened?"

    I shifted ufortably, deciding to give him a simplified version.

    "It¡¯s nothing serious,¡¯ " I said with a dismissive wave. "Lucy Taylor took some photos of me helping Samuel to the hospital when he¡¯d had too much to drink. The angles were deliberately misleading-made it look like something romantic was happening." I forced augh. "You know how these things go. It¡¯ll blow over in a day or two."

    Marcus¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly. "And Griffin? He¡¯s no longer causing trouble for you?"

    I nodded quickly-too quickly.

    "Actually, he owes me a favor now. I helped him out of a... difficult situation. He won¡¯t be a problem anymore."

    *Please don¡¯t ask for details*

    I silently begged.

    "Thank you for your concern, Uncle Marcus," I added softly. "I really am fine. You don¡¯t need to worry about me."

    "I¡¯m worried about you?" he asked, his tone so cold it made me flinch.

    I stared at him,pletely caught off guard by the abrupt shift.

    "I-I should go," I stammered, desperate to end this increasingly ufortable conversation. "It¡¯s gettingte, and you must be tired after your negotiations. You should rest."

    I barely waited for his response before reaching over to end the call. The screen went ck, and I slumped back against the bench, exhaling a breath I hadn¡¯t realized I was holding.

    My heart was still racing, my palms slightly damp with nervous sweat.

    *Dating someone like that would require nerves of steel*, I thought wryly. *It would be more stressful than outwitting Samuel Griffin.* Catherine was always joking about me bing her aunt by marrying Marcus, but the very thought made me shudder.

    Marcus¡¯s POV

    I rubbed my tired eyes as the screen before me went dark. Recent events had left me restless, especially everything concerning Anna Shaw.

    A knock interrupted my thoughts.

    Peter Reed entered with a grave expression.

    "Sir, we¡¯ve obtained the security footage. Lucy Taylor did indeed take those photos," he paused l, carefully choosing his words, "but I found something else. Samuel Griffin¡¯s behaviorst night was very strange."

    My hand froze on the desk, rm bells ringing in my mind. Anna¡¯s words from ourst conversation suddenly echoed-she had lied to me.

    "What exactly happened?" My voice was noticeably deeper than usual, tension evident even to my own ears.

    Peter quickly operated theputer, bringing up the surveince footage for me to view.

    "Look, sir. Griffin doesn¡¯t appear to be merely intoxicated," Peter pointed out.

    In the footage, Samuel behaved erratically, tugging at his shirt while stumbling into a private lounge.

    Minutester, Anna passed by the door and was suddenly pulled inside.

    My heart sank instantly, my hands unconsciously clenching into fists, nails digging deep into my palms. I felt no pain¡ªonly a burning rage mixed with profound concern as horrific scenarios shed through my mind.

    Peter, noticing my change in demeanor, quickly added: "Don¡¯t worry, sir. Miss Shaw appears unharmed. They emerged shortly after."

    The video fast-forwarded to show Anna cautiously peering out, checking for onlookers before helping Samuel leave.

    "The final footage shows Griffin entering Miss Shaw¡¯s car-likely heading to a hospital. I¡¯m certain Griffin was drugged," Peter exined.

    "Drugged?" My frown deepened, expression darker than before. This girl was truly bold, risking herself to take Samuel to a hospital? Didn¡¯t she realize how dangerous it could be if Samuel acted on his drug-induced impulses? I couldn¡¯t bear to follow that train of thought.

    I took a deep breath, struggling to control my emotions. "Can we determine who administered the drug?"

    "Investigation overseas presents challenges, but knowing Griffin¡¯s character, he won¡¯t let such humiliation slide. Ive arranged surveince on his movements," Peter replied.

    I nodded. "Good."

    Seeing I had no further instructions, Peter exited the office.

    Alone in my office, my thoughts churned. Why had Anna lied to me?

    Was she worried I¡¯d be concerned, or was there another reason? If Samuel was indeed drugged, the situation might be moreplex than I imagined. I needed to verify certain things personally.

    Night had deepened, but my thoughts only grew clearer. I had made my decision.

    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and

    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 53: No Words, Only Fire

    <h4>Chapter 53: No Words, Only Fire</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Flowers. Goddamn too many flowers.

    My office had transformed into some botanical nightmare overnight. Roses, lilies, orchids expensive arrangements with cards attached from men whose names I barely recognized from Skyview City¡¯s social circuit. The scent was overwhelming, cloying sweetness that made my stomach turn.

    "Ms. Shaw, another delivery just arrived," Rachel announced, her usualposure visibly tinged with disgust.

    "This makes seventeen today."

    I exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of my nose as I stared at thetest monstrosity¡ªan ostentatious arrangement of white roses and gold-painted leaves. The apanying card offered to gift me a sports car, asking only for one night with me in return.

    I felt nauseated. The online rumors about Samuel and me had unleashed a feeding frenzy. Apparently, Skyview City¡¯s bachelors saw me as some prize to be imed¡ªa business asset with a conveniently attractive package.

    "Get rid of them," I said, my voice sharp as a de. "All of them. Please tell my assistant to stop epting any deliveries."

    Hourster, my phone vibrated on the desk. Catherine¡¯s name shed on the screen. I picked up, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder as I continued typing.

    "Catherine? What¡¯s up?"

    The response was a garbled mixture of slurred words and what sounded like ss clinking.

    "Annie... need you..." Her words were nearly unintelligible.

    I sat up straight, my full attention now on the call. "Catherine? Are you okay?

    Where exactly are you?"

    "Olympus Club...e quickly...

    " The line went dead.

    "Rachel!" I called, already grabbing my purse and coat. "We need to go to Olympus Club. Catherine¡¯s¡ª"

    Just as I stepped through the doors of Olympus Club, I heard Catherine¡¯s voice louder and more belligerent than I¡¯d ever heard it.

    "You pathetic excuses for men! Who the hell do you think you are?"

    I followed themotion to the far corner, where Catherine stood swaying slightly, pointing an using finger at a group of well-dressed men seated around a table. Champagne bottles and sses littered the surface. I recognized one of the men as someone who had sent me flowers and invited me to dinner.

    Catherine¡¯s eyes were bright with fury, her clothes slightly disheveled. When she spotted me, her face lit up. "Annie!

    There she is! The woman you¡¯re all betting on like she¡¯s a racehorse!"

    My blood ran cold. Betting?

    I approached slowly, Rachel following close behind. The men shifted ufortably, several unable to meet my gaze.

    "What¡¯s going on here?" I asked, my voice deliberately calm.

    "Oh, Annie," Catherineughed, a harsh sound devoid of humor. "These gentlemen have been having the most fascinating discussion about you." She picked up a champagne flute, draining it before continuing. "Apparently, there¡¯s a betting pool. Who¡¯ll be the first to get Anna Shaw into bed.

    They¡¯ve even set odds."

    My expression remained unchanged, despite the disgust and rage flooding through me.

    "It¡¯s just a bit of fun," one of them offered weakly. "Nothing serious-"

    Catherine pointed at him, her finger inches from his face: "LOOK IN THE MIRROR AND ASK YOURSELF IF YOU¡¯RE WORTHY OF ANNA! You¡¯re not even good enough to shine her shoes!"

    The man¡¯s face reddened with anger.

    "Catherine, you crazy woman. If it weren¡¯t for your father¡¯s position, I¡¯d have pped you already."

    In one fluid motion, Catherine climbed onto the table, champagne bottle in hand. "Try it, asshole! I dare you! I promise I won¡¯t go crying to Daddy."

    The men nced nervously at each other, aware of the scene they were creating. The surrounding area had gone quiet, other patrons watching with undisguised interest.

    Catherine swung the champagne bottle wildly, pointing it at each man in turn.

    "Listen up, everyone. Anyone who thinks they¡¯re going to pursue Anna has to go through me first."

    To emphasize her point, she smashed the bottle against the edge of the table, sending ss and champagne spraying. Several men jumped back, their expensive suits now stained.

    "Catherine," I said quietly, taking her arm. "Let¡¯s go."

    She allowed me to guide her down from the table, though her eyes never left the group of men. "Remember what I said," she snarled at them.

    Rachel helped me maneuver Catherine into the back seat of my car. She copsed against the leather, her head rolling back as the adrenaline seemed to drain out of her.

    "Those vultures," she muttered, eyes half-closed. "Circling around you like you¡¯re some kind of prize."

    I arranged her morefortably, gently moving her head to rest on my shoulder.

    Before the driver could pull away, I rolled down my window and leveled onest cold stare at the group of men who had followed us outside. "Even your fathers show me respect when we meet. Who do you think you are?"

    As we pulled away from the curb, Rachel spoke from the front seat, her voice low with concern. "Ms. Shaw, something doesn¡¯t feel right about this.

    It feels... orchestrated."

    I nodded, absently stroking Catherine¡¯s hair as she drifted off to sleep against my shoulder. "Find out who organized this betting pool. Whoever¡¯s behind it will lead us to our answer."

    Rachel nodded, already tapping notes into her phone.

    I turned my gaze out the window, watching the glittering skyline of Skyview City pass by. The city I¡¯d fought so hard to im a ce in now felt hostile, full of predators waiting for me to show weakness.

    My thoughts drifted to my father.

    Would these men have dared to disrespect me this way if he were still alive? Since his death, I¡¯d fought an uphill battle to maintain that respect, to prove I was more than just a pretty ceholder.

    At least my mother and grandmother remained insted from the ugliness.

    Later that night, as I was finally settling into bed, my phone lit up with a text from my contact in Sapphire Sky Hotel Room 3303.

    (Avable?)

    Despite my exhaustion and lingering anger, I felt a flicker of interest.

    [Yes) I replied simply.

    The hallway of Sapphire Sky Hotel¡¯s exclusive top floor was quiet as I made my way to Room 3303. I knocked once, and the door opened immediately.

    The suite was dimly lit, with just enough light to make out the familiar silhouette of my anonymous partner.

    As I stepped inside, he moved toward me, his hand gently cupping my face as he leaned in, pressing his forehead against mine in a surprisingly intimate gesture.

    I pulled back, ufortable with the tenderness. "Skip the romance," I said coldly. "That¡¯s not what this is about."

    I kept my emotions carefullypartmentalized as I reached for his shirt buttons. This was just physical-a transaction of pleasure, nothing more. No different from a vigorous workout session to release endorphins.

    As his hands moved over my body with practiced skill, I allowed myself to drift into sensation, letting the stress and humiliation of the day dissolve into something simpler, more primal.

    Marcus¡¯s POV

    I stood in the shadows of room 3303, watching as she entered. The soft click of the door closing behind her seemed to seal us into our own private world, separate from the reality waiting outside.

    She walked toward me, her silhouette illuminated by the dim glow of the bedsidemp. I stepped forward, my hand naturally reaching to cup her face, drawing her closer until our foreheads touched. This was an intimate gesture that felt natural to me but clearly crossed some invisible boundary she¡¯d established.

    She immediately pulled back, her eyes hardening. "Skip the romance," she said coldly. "That¡¯s not what this is about."

    Something inside me ignited¡ªa sharp, burning anger that threatened to consume my carefully maintained control. I flew across the damn Antic for her, and this is how she receives me? As if I were nothing more than a convenient body, a transaction, a goddamn service provider.

    I swallowed the rage building in my throat, knowing I couldn¡¯t speak. One word¡ªa single syble-and she¡¯d recognize me instantly.

    Her fingers worked at my shirt buttons with mechanical efficiency. I captured her hands, stilling them against my chest where she could surely feel the thunderous beating of my heart.

    I brought my mouth down on hers with more force than necessary, pouring every ounce of my frustration and desire into the kiss. She responded immediately, her body arching against mine as if we were opposite poles of a ma, drawn together by forces neither of us fully understood or controlled.

    For nearly three hours, I lost myself in her¡ªin the familiar curves of her body, the rhythm of her breathing, the small sounds she made when pleasure overwhelmed her. All while maintaining my silence,municating only through touch, through thenguage our bodies had quickly learned to speak to each other.

    Afterward, I watched as she drifted off to sleep, her features softening in a way they never did when she was awake. The mask of Anna Shaw, formidable businesswoman, slipped away to reveal just... Anna.

    Vulnerable. Beautiful.

    I dressed silently in the dark, pausing at the door to look back at her sleeping form. Then I was gone, disappearing into the night as if I¡¯d never been there at all.

    Joseph¡¯s apartment carried the distinct atmosphere of a bachelor with expensive taste¡ªwith a sound system that probably cost more than most people¡¯s cars.

    I didn¡¯t bother to knock. The key he¡¯d given me years ago still worked, and I pushed the door open with more force than necessary, mming it shut behind me.

    Joseph emerged from his bedroom in loungewear, hair disheveled, eyes wide with surprise. "Marcus? What the hell are you doing back in Skyview? Don¡¯t tell me Anna remarried?"

    He nced at the door behind me with a wince. "Is my door okay? Next time could you not m my door when you¡¯re angry? It hasn¡¯t offended anyone."

    I brushed past him. "Don¡¯t tell anyone I¡¯m back. I¡¯ll be staying here for now."

    Joseph blinked, processing my words.

    "Staying here? Where¡¯s Peter?"

    "I came alone," I replied, my voice clipped with exhaustion and lingering anger.

    "What? You came back alone? What¡¯s so urgent? Are you out of your mind?" His eyebrows shot up in genuine shock.

    "You talk too much." I loosened my tie, not in the mood for his characteristic volley of questions.

    Joseph studied me for a moment, eyes narrowing in sudden understanding.

    "Wait, you didn¡¯te back for that betting scandal, did you? You¡¯re here because of Anna¡¯s trending topic?"

    My head snapped up, eyes locking onto his. "What betting scandal?"

    Joseph held up his hands as if surrendering. "So you don¡¯t know.

    should¡¯ve known you wouldn¡¯t be scrolling through social media." He moved to the refrigerator, pulling out two beers and handing one to me.

    "Remember those photos of Anna and Samuel leaving the charity g together? Well, someone made sure they went viral."

    I took the beer without drinking it, waiting for him to continue.

    "But that¡¯s not all," Joseph went on, dropping onto the sofa across from me. "Yesterday at Olympus Club, some men from Skyview were exposed for running a betting pool on who¡¯d be the first to get Anna into bed."

    My fingers tightened around the bottle, nearly crushing it. "And Olympus Club allowed this?"

    Joseph grimaced. "That¡¯s the thing¡ªit seemed to pop up overnight. Almost... orchestrated. It has to be someone with a grudge against Anna. Both the trending topic and yesterday¡¯s sudden betting pool seem designed to ruin her reputation. Whoever¡¯s orchestrating this is ruthless. You wouldn¡¯t believe it ¡ªthey¡¯ve even set up betting at Olympus Club. The pot was up to $1millionst night."

    "Is that so?" My voice came out deceptively calm, but inside, I was already calcting, analyzing, nning.

 Chapter 54: Trust is a Luxury

    <h4>Chapter 54: Trust is a Luxury</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Sunlight filtered through the crack in the curtains, hitting my face with annoying precision. I fully woke up, propping myself to scan the empty hotel room. The digital clock on the nightstand read 12:07. The space beside me held only the ghost of his presence a slight depression in the mattress. Nothing more.

    Gone. Of course.

    I shouldn¡¯t have felt disappointed.

    This was exactly what our arrangement entailed-no strings, no morning afters, no awkward goodbyes.

    I wrapped the sheet around myself and padded across the plush carpet to the window, yanking the curtains open with more force than necessary.

    Outside, the sun shone brilliantly¡ªa rare perfect day.

    My phone buzzed on the nightstand.

    Rachel.

    "I¡¯ll be there in fifteen minutes with clean clothes," she said when I answered.

    Rachel was nothing if not efficient. By the time she arrived, I¡¯d managed to shower and wrap myself in one of the hotel¡¯s luxurious robes.

    "Your wounds need attention," Rachel said, eyeing the red marks peeking out from beneath my robe¡¯s cor. She set a garment bag on the bed and pulled a first aid kit from her purse. "The doctor said daily care is essential for proper healing."

    I sighed, letting the robe slip from my shoulders. The mirror across the room reflected angry red scratches and half-healed bruises-souvenirs from my desperate leap at Olympus Club.

    Rachel worked in silence, gently applying antiseptic spray to the worst of the marks. I winced as the cool mist hit a particrly tender spot.

    "Sorry," she murmured, her touch bing even lighter.

    I caught myself wondering if my anonymous lover had been put off by these marks. Had he seen them in the dark and found them repulsive? Was that why he¡¯d left so abruptly?

    "How¡¯s the investigation going?" I asked. "Any leads on who started that ridiculous betting pool?"

    Rachel¡¯s expression darkened as she uncapped the scar cream. "The situation has escted. The pot is now up to two million dors."

    "Two million?" I couldn¡¯t keep the disbelief from my voice. "For who gets to sleep with me first? I had no idea my stock was trading so high."

    The sarcasm didn¡¯t disguise my disgust. The whole thing was repulsive -men treating me like some raremodity to be imed, as if my body were separate from my mind, my aplishments, my very personhood.

    "This is deliberate," Rachel said, her hands stilling on my shoulder.

    "Someone is systematically working to destroy your reputation."

    "Samuel Griffin," she added, her voice hardening. "After what happened at the g, he has every reason to want revenge."

    I shook my head, pulling on the blouse she¡¯d brought. "It¡¯s not Samuel."

    "How can you be so sure?" Rachel asked

    I, clearly surprised by mycertainty.

    "Because Samuel¡¯s focus right now is on whoever drugged him. That¡¯s his priority." I buttoned my blouse, thinking aloud. "Besides, if Samuel wanted revenge on me specifically, he¡¯d be demanding I delete that video I took of him in his...promised state."

    I moved to the window again, watching the city below as I gathered my thoughts. "No, whoever¡¯s behind this doesn¡¯t just want revenge. They want to systematically destroy my reputation."

    "Lucy Taylor," Rachel suggested quietly.

    The name hung in the air between us.

    I didn¡¯t immediately respond, weighing the possibility.

    "It fits," Rachel pressed. "She has the motive. She wants to eliminate youpletely from Jack¡¯s life. Make him ashamed to have ever been associated with you."

    "Maybe," I conceded. "But does she have the influence to orchestrate

    something of this scale? To get so many people in Skyview City involved?

    That seems... beyond her capabilities."

    Unless, of course, she had help. Unless she was operating with the backing of the Simpson family. Unless Jack himself was involved.

    After lunch, my phone rang¡ªit was Samuel calling.

    "I hear you¡¯ve be quite the hotmodity in Skyview City. Two million dors just to get you into bed ¡ªimpressive valuation," Samuel said with a dark chuckle.

    I gripped my pen tighter, maintaining control of my voice. "Mr. Griffin. To what do I owe this unexpected...

    pleasure?"

    "I¡¯m calling about our unfinished business." His tone turned menacing.

    "You have something of mine. I ratherpromising video, I believe."

    I leaned back in my chair, a small smile ying at my lips despite the tension. "Ah, so you¡¯ve remembered.

    How are you feeling, by the way? Still in recovery from your... condition?"

    "Careful, Ms. Shaw," he warned, though I could hear the edge in his voice. "You might not want to provoke a man who¡¯s been medically prohibited from certain activities. The frustration builds up."

    "Is that a threat, Mr. Griffin?" I kept my tone light, almost yful. "Because it sounds more like a personal problem to me. Perhaps you could try yoga? I hear it¡¯s excellent for redirecting energy."

    His breath hissed across the line. "You think you¡¯re so clever."

    "I don¡¯t think it, Mr. Griffin. I know it." I examined my manicure casually, enjoying the way I could picture his face reddening with anger. "Now, was there an actual purpose to this call, or did you just miss the sound of my voice?"

    "Delete the video."

    "And why would I do that?" I asked innocently. "It¡¯s my insurance policy.

    My protection against whatever vengeful scheme you might be plotting."

    "Because I have something you want more." His voice changed, became calmer, more calcting. "Information.

    About who¡¯s been systematically destroying your reputation across Skyview City."

    The pen in my hand stilled. For a moment, I said nothing, recalibrating.

    "You¡¯re suggesting a trade?" I finally asked, careful to keep any eagerness from my voice.

    "Precisely. You delete your little insurance policy, and I¡¯ll tell you exactly who¡¯s orchestrating this betting pool, who nted those photos, who¡¯s been working behind the scenes to ruin your reputation."

    Anna¡¯s POV

    My car tires crunched over the gravel driveway as we approached Samuel Griffin¡¯s newly acquired mansion in Skyview City. Several men in ck suits patrolled the area, their watchful eyes professionally monitoring our arrival.

    As we neared the entrance, a security guard stepped forward to block our path. "Ms. Shaw and party?" he asked, his tone clipped and formal. When I nodded, he spoke into his wrist microphone and then gestured for us to follow him along the side of the house.

    Samuel Griffin was lounging by the pool on a chaise lounge, his lean body stretched out like a cat in the sun.

    Despite our arrival, he didn¡¯t even bother opening his eyes, this deliberate disy of indifference making my jaw clench.

    "Mr. Griffin," I said, my voice carrying across the patio.

    Samuel finally opened one eye, azy smile spreading across his face. "Ms. Shaw. You¡¯re punctual. I like that quality in a woman." He gestured to the empty chair beside him. "Please, make yourselffortable."

    I remained standing, with Rachel and Sean nking me like sentinels. "I prefer to keep this brief. You said you had information about who¡¯s behind... the recent events."

    Samuel chuckled, sitting up and reaching for a ss of amber liquid on the side table. "So businesslike, Anna.

    May I call you Anna? After all, you did help me."

    His deliberate provocation made my jaw tighten, but I kept my expression neutral. "The video, Mr. Griffin. Let¡¯s discuss the terms of our exchange."

    His smile disappeared, reced by something more predatory and menacing. "Fine, straight to business then. Very well." He set down his ss with a decisive click. "You first. Delete the video-both copies."

    I raised an eyebrow. "Both?"

    "Don¡¯t y innocent," Samuel¡¯s voice dropped to a dangerous low. "I know your assistant has a copy too."

    I maintained myposure. With a slight nod to Rachel, I pulled out my phone. Rachel did the same. We both navigated to the video, showed Samuel the screen, and deleted it.

    "There," I said coolly. "Deleted. Now your part of the bargain."

    Samuel¡¯s eyes narrowed with suspicion. "How do I know there aren¡¯t other copies?"

    "You¡¯ll just have to trust me," I replied, unable to keep a hint of mockery from my voice.

    Heughed, a short, sharp sound.

    "Trust you? That would be foolish." He sat forward, his posture suddenly more alert. "But I¡¯m a man of my word, unlike some people I could name. You fulfilled your part, so I¡¯ll fulfill mine."

    Samuel snapped his fingers, and two security guards appeared from a side entrance. Between them, they half-dragged a man whose face was so bloodied and swollen it was barely recognizable. They dumped him unceremoniously on the patio like a sack of garbage.

    I involuntarily took a step back, shocked by the sight. The man moaned, barely conscious, blood seeping from cuts on his face and hands.

    "What the hell is this?" I demanded, shifting my gaze away from the man, afraid I might faint. "Who is he?"

    Samuel smiled, clearly enjoying my difort. "This, Anna, is your answer. Meet the mastermind behind your recent... public rtions issues.He only gave up a name after my men beat him for half an hour. Jared Wood, do you know him?"

    Sean said quietly beside me. "Lucy Taylor¡¯s assistant."

    The realization hit me like a physical blow. Lucy. Of course. Who else would have such a personal vendetta against me?

    "That¡¯s right," Samuel confirmed, standing up to circle the prone man like a shark. "Mr. Wood here has been quite busy. Setting up betting pools, spreading rumors, ensuring everyone in Skyview City¡¯s social scene had something nasty to say about Anna Shaw."

    I should have left then-taken my information and walked away. But something else was gnawing at me, a question that needed answering.

    "What about the charity g?" I asked, watching Samuel¡¯s expression carefully.

    "Who drugged you that night?"

    Samuel¡¯s eyes shed with genuine anger. "Ah, you remembered that little detail. I¡¯m touched by your concern." He turned away, pacing alongside the pool. "Initially, I suspected George Simpson. It would be just like him to try to force my hand in the Skke District negotiations."

    "And?" I prompted when he fell silent.

    "It wasn¡¯t George," Samuel¡¯s frustration was palpable. "A dead end. No trail, no evidence." He gestured dismissively toward Jared. "Instead, I found the man behind the betting pool, which actually helped you."

    As I studied Samuel¡¯s face, I realized he was telling the truth. Whatever was happening in Skyview City went beyond the obvious yers. If Samuel Griffin with all his resources couldn¡¯t uncover who drugged him, then we were dealing with someone particrly skilled at covering their tracks.

    My mind raced, considering the possibilities. It wasn¡¯t the Murphy family-William was far too honorable for such tactics, and Phillip was respected enough that he didn¡¯t need to resort to underhanded methods.

    There was another yer in this game -someone lurking beneath the surface, manipting events from the shadows. Who could it be?

    As if reading my thoughts, Samuel let out a derisiveugh. "Skyview City is getting more interesting by the day.

    The waters are much deeper than I imagined." He fixed his gaze on me with calcted intensity. "Ms. Shaw, perhaps you should reconsider my offer. What do you say we work together?"

    The warning bells in my head immediately started ringing. This man had already used me once, and now here he was with that practiced smile, offering partnership again. What was his angle this time?

    I suppressed a coldugh.

    *Partnership? More likely he¡¯s looking for a human shield.* Did he really think I¡¯d fall for the same trick twice?

    "I¡¯m ttered by your interest, Mr. Griffin," I replied, maintaining a polite but distant smile. "Unfortunately, Shaw Corp simply doesn¡¯t have the capacity to meaningfully coborate with a business giant like Heritage Group." I gestured vaguely with one hand.

    "We¡¯re simply not in the same league.

    Thank you for your hospitality, but I should be going."

    Samuel¡¯s smile remained fixed, but something shed behind his eyes¡ª disappointment? Annoyance? It was gone too quickly to identify.

    "You¡¯re selling yourself short, Ms. Shaw," he said, rising from his chair as I gathered my purse. "Few business leaders in Skyview City have your... particr talents."

    There was something unsettling about the way he emphasized thatst word, but I kept my expression neutral.

    "You¡¯re too kind. I¡¯ll show myself out."

    As I walked to the door, I could feel his gaze boring into my back like aser. It took every ounce of willpower not to increase my pace, not to betray the uneasiness crawling up my spine. I didn¡¯t look back.

    Once safely in my car, I let the carefully constructed mask drop.

    "Where¡¯s Lucy?" I asked, my voice now stripped of all the politeness I¡¯d forced into it minutes earlier.

    Rachel responded immediately: "I just confirmed she¡¯s currently at the Simpson residence, having afternoon tea with Mary Simpson."

    I nodded, processing this information.

    "Go to the Simpson house," I instructed, my tone leaving no room for debate.

 Chapter 55: When Masks Fall

    <h4>Chapter 55: When Masks Fall</h4>

    Jack¡¯s POV

    I slouchedzily on the sofa in the Simpson estate¡¯s living room, mindlessly scrolling through my phone. The afternoon tea scenario ying out before me was suffocating ¡ªmy mother¡¯s calcted praise of Lucy Taylor, Lucy¡¯s excessive eagerness to please, and their thinly veiled matchmaking attempts that they somehow thought I couldn¡¯t see through. I just wanted to escape as quickly as possible.

    "Don¡¯t you agree, Jack?" My mother¡¯s voice yanked me from my thoughts.

    I finally lifted my gaze from my phone screen, making no effort to hide my impatience. "Mom, I¡¯m going out tonight. Don¡¯t prepare dinner for me."

    Lucy¡¯s face immediately fell, her disappointment embarrassingly obvious. "Jack, aren¡¯t you on vacation?

    Do you really need to go out for business?"

    I deliberately avoided her gaze, focusing back on my phone while giving a half-hearted response. "Made ns with Daniel and the guys."

    I could sense Lucy biting her lip, her voice taking on that practiced wounded tone. "But I¡¯ve already prepared all the side dishes for tonight¡¯s dinner, and I made chicken soup especially for you¡ªto boost your health."

    Her transparent attempts at ying the perfect caretaker irritated me.

    These carefully constructed traps of tenderness and attentiveness had long since be transparent. "You two can eat it," I replied curtly.

    Noting my cold demeanor, my mother quickly jumped in to lecture Lucy.

    "Men have business obligations all the time. We women can¡¯t lighten their professional burdens, so we shouldn¡¯t bother them about their work. Just take care of them properly at home."

    Her tone suddenly shifted, turning icy.

    "Don¡¯t be like Anna Shaw, always trying to control men. You need to be more amodating."

    At the mention of Anna¡¯s name, my heart clenched painfully.

    "You¡¯re absolutely right, Mrs. Simpson.

    I¡¯ll remember that," Lucy agreed, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.

    "I was just concerned about Jack¡¯s health, nothing more."

    I couldn¡¯t take it anymore. Frowning deeply, I looked directly at Lucy.

    "Lucy, you¡¯re not a child anymore. You should find a proper job. And stoping to our house so often-we have staff to handle the cooking."

    I had to be clear. "Also..." I nced at my mother, then back at Lucy, determined to reveal the truth. "I promised Felix I¡¯d look after you. I¡¯ll help you find a good match, someone who can provide you with afortable life."

    To fully extinguish Lucy¡¯s misguided hopes, I turned to my mother with a suggestion. "Mom, why not make Lucy your goddaughter?"

    Lucy froze, looking at me in disbelief.

    "Jack, w-what are you saying?"

    My mother mmed her hand on the table, fury zing in her eyes. "What nonsense are you spouting? How could Lucy possibly be my goddaughter?" Then sheid her cards on the table.

    "Let me be perfectly clear. Lucy is my choice for your wife. You must marry her."

    I refused without hesitation. "That¡¯s impossible. I already have someone I care for. I won¡¯t marry her."

    My mother paused, stunned. Lucy bit her lip harder.

    "Who?" My mother demanded, rage shing in her eyes. "Anna Shaw?

    Absolutely not! I forbid it!"

    Since we¡¯d reached this point, I saw no reason to hide my feelings any longer.

    Thinking of Anna, my heart suddenly felt warm and resolute. "Yes, Anna. I care for her and intend to win her back. I¡¯ll discuss this with Father.

    Mom, this isn¡¯t your decision to make."

    Lucy swayed slightly, as if she might copse at any moment. "Jack, if you pursue Anna again, what about me? I care for you so much¡ªI always have.

    Can¡¯t you see that?"

    I watched her performance with weariness. Whether her emotions were genuine or fabricated, I no longer cared to discern. "I¡¯ve only ever thought of you as a sister. I¡¯ve never shown any romantic interest in you."

    My voice turned cold, my gaze even colder. "I¡¯ve chosen not to confront you about the things you did to sabotage my rtionship with Anna, but that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m unaware of them. From now on, watch yourself. If you do anything to hurt her again, I will never forgive you."

    Lucy looked as if she¡¯d been struck by lightning, sinking to the floor. "Jack, please don¡¯t do this. I truly care about you. What does Anna Shaw have that I don¡¯t?"

    My mother began defending Lucy.

    "Lucy is a hundred times better than Anna." Her tone grew heavy. "Jack Simpson, don¡¯t think I¡¯m unaware of the rumors circting about that shameless woman. Go ask around.

    Hear what Skyview City¡¯s elite are saying about her. She¡¯s now more infamous than Nora Price. What man would dare bring such a woman home? It would disgrace our family."

    She added with disgust, "Even the senior board members are gossiping about her behind closed doors."

    My face darkened immediately, a protective instinct surging through me.

    "Who? Who¡¯s talking about her?"

    My mother scoffed. "Hmph, ask your father."

    I frowned deeply. My father had attended a business dinnerst night¡ª had someone dared to gossip about Anna in his presence? Anna was still my ex-wife; these people showing such disrespect to me suggested that whoever dined with my father wasn¡¯t particrly respectable. No wonder even my mother looked displeased.

    My mother continued her earnest persuasion. "Even if Lucy has ws, she¡¯s devoted to you and won¡¯t cause scandalous rumors. The Simpson family already has status and wealth.

    We don¡¯t need a daughter-inw with exceptional skills or powerful connections. We need someone pure, obedient, and attentive¡ªa woman who understands your needs. That¡¯s more valuable than anything else."

    I responded firmly. "I¡¯ll get to the bottom of the online rumors. I¡¯ll find out the truth behind all these allegations."

    My mother challenged coldly. "What¡¯s there to investigate? The fact is she slept with Samuel to secure his alliance. Son, you¡¯repletely blinded by her. Have you forgotten that Anna Shaw frequented the Olympus Club? That Sean Smith still works for her? Why can¡¯t you see reason?"

    A sharp pain pierced my heart, but rationally, I knew Anna wasn¡¯t that kind of person. "I¡¯ve already established that she and Sean don¡¯t have that kind of rtionship. As for Samuel, I¡¯ll discover what¡¯s really happening there."

    Just then, the butler appeared to announce, "Mrs. Simpson, Mr. Simpson, Ms. Shaw is here."

    My mother immediately responded with disgust. "What does she want?

    Tell her to leave."

    I immediately instructed the butler, "Show her in."

    The butler hesitated momentarily before choosing to follow my directive.

    My mother was livid. "Why are you inviting her in? Aren¡¯t you worried she¡¯ll taint our home?"

    I was also confused. Given Anna¡¯s character, she would never step foot in the Simpson household without an urgent matter. Why had she suddenly appeared? Had she discovered something, or was there an emergency?

    Soon, Anna walked in, followed by Sean and Rachel, who were dragging an unconscious man. They dumped him unceremoniously in front of my mother and Lucy.

    I noticed Lucy¡¯s expression turn suddenly panicked when she saw the man on the floor. Although she quicklyposed herself, that moment of rm didn¡¯t escape my notice. What was she afraid of? Who was this man?

    I asked in confusion, "Anna, what¡¯s going on? Who is this?"

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "Anna Shaw, where did you find this... this man? Why are you dumping him in my home?" Mary¡¯s shrill voice cut through the tense silence, each syble dripping with disdain.

    As she turned to her butler, waving her perfectly manicured hand dismissively, I maintained an expressionless face. "Get rid of that rug afterward. It¡¯spletely ruined how unlucky."

    This woman had never seen me as someone worthy of her son, let alone deserving of her respect. Even when I was officially part of the Simpson family, I was always treated like an unwee intruder. Some things never change.

    Jack approached me, his eyes filled with concern that once would have made my heart flutter but now only evoked a hollow emptiness.

    "What happened? Are you okay?" he asked softly, urgency in his voice.

    I met his gaze with cold detachment.

    How ironic. All those times I had desperately needed this kind of attention from him, and now that it no longer mattered, here it was.

    "Why don¡¯t you ask her?" I replied, shifting my gaze to Lucy, who was already shrinking back, clutching Mary¡¯s arm with practiced vulnerability.

    "Ask me what?" Lucy¡¯s voice trembled with manufactured innocence. "Anna, I don¡¯t understand what you¡¯re talking about."

    What a performance. I suppressed a bitter smile. This woman had perfected the art of maniption to an almost admirable degree-if it weren¡¯t so despicable.

    Jack looked between us, confusion clearly written on his face. "Can someone exin what¡¯s going on here?

    Lucy, what is Anna talking about?"

    "I¡¯ll exin everything," I said coldly, interrupting Mary¡¯s stream of vitriol.

    "But first, I want to know what you n to do about it, Jack. When I prove what she¡¯s done, what then?"

    Jack nced at Lucy, then back to me.

    His expression hardened with unusual resolve. "If she¡¯s truly done something wrong, I won¡¯t let it slide. I promise, Anna, I won¡¯t let anyone hurt you or damage your reputation anymore."

    Mary immediately erupted, her face flushing with fury. "Anna Shaw, you worthless woman! How dare you try to manipte my son again? You think you can just¡ª"

    "Mom," Jack cut in, his voice unusually firm. "Can you be quiet for one minute?"

    "Don¡¯t bother, Mr. Simpson," I said coolly. "I¡¯m used to it by now." And I truly was. The constant belittlement, the casual cruelty¡ªthey had long since lost their power to wound me deeply.

    I turned my attention to Lucy, who was watching me warily, her innocent mask hiding guarded eyes. "Ms. Taylor, do you recognize this man?" I gestured to the battered figure on the floor.

    She shook her head frantically, eyes wide. "No! I¡¯ve never seen him before!"

    Iughed, the sound devoid of any real humor. "You can drop the act.

    You know, I wasn¡¯t going to pursue this. When you secretly photographed me with Samuel at the charity g and paid to have those misleading photos trend online, I was willing to let it go." I took a step closer to her, watching her shrink back further. "I didn¡¯t want to deal with Jack pestering me, so I kept quiet."

    I took a deep breath, letting the anger I¡¯d been suppressing finally show in my voice. "But you crossed a line when you smeared my reputation.

    Setting up betting pools, encouraging men topete over who would sleep with me first? That was truly vicious, Lucy. Even for you."

    Jack turned to Lucy, shock written across his features. "Lucy, is this true?

    Did you really do these things?"

    Lucy clung to Mary¡¯s arm, tears streaming down her face as she shook her head violently. "No! I would never!

    She¡¯s lying, Jack-she¡¯s just trying to turn you against me!"

    I observed her performance with clinical detachment. Those tears might fool Jack, but they had no effect on me.

    I¡¯d learned to recognize genuine emotion, and there wasn¡¯t a drop of it in her disy.

    Rachel stepped forward, nudging the unconscious man with her foot. "This is the proof."

    Mary recoiled, her lip curling in disgust. "Who knows where you found this man? Get him out of my house immediately! If he dies here, even the entire Shaw fortune couldn¡¯t cover it."

    I almost smiled at the irony. When it suited her narrative, I was from a small, insignificant family unworthy of the Simpson name. Yet when she wanted to insult me, suddenly the Shaw family was substantial enough to be worth mentioning. Such contradiction was typical of Mary Simpson¡¯s particr brand of prejudice.

    Jack grabbed Lucy¡¯s wrist, his expression more serious than I¡¯d ever seen it during our marriage. "Tell me the truth, Lucy. Now."

    For just a moment, Lucy¡¯s mask slipped, and I caught a glimpse of raw hatred in her eyes before she copsed into another bout of theatrical sobbing.

    Her tears weren¡¯t from being falsely used-they were from rage at being caught.

    I nodded to Sean, who stepped forward with a ss of water. Without hesitation, he threw the cold water directly into the man¡¯s face.

    The man spluttered awake, panic immediately flooding his features as he took in his surroundings. "I confess! I confess!" he blurted, cowering as if expecting another blow. "It was Jared Wood! Jared ordered me to set up the betting pool. He paid me to do it all!

    Please don¡¯t hit me again!"

    All color drained from Lucy¡¯s face, though she continued her desperate denial. "No, that¡¯s not true. I know nothing about this!"

    I watched Jack¡¯s expression shift from shock to fury as the truth sank in. "If it wasn¡¯t you, then who? Should I call Jared here to verify his story?"

    Lucy, realizing she was cornered, suddenly changed tactics¡ªa move I¡¯d been expecting. Her expression hardened as she went on the offensive.

    "Anna," she said, though tears still clung to hershes, her voice suddenly steady, "you say I took those photos, but aren¡¯t you admitting that you were with Samuel Griffin that night? Is that something you¡¯re prepared to confirm?"

 Chapter 56: The End of Her Fantasy

    <h4>Chapter 56: The End of Her Fantasy</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "Yes, after the charity g, you left with Samuel. Isn¡¯t that a fact?" Mary said venomously, her voice filled with contempt. "Who knows where you two went to fool around afterward?

    Everyone in Skyview City knows what kind of woman you are. We don¡¯t even need to smear your reputation-you ve done a fine job of that yourself."

    I stood there, feeling ice-cold despite the warm room. I might project strength and confidence, but deep down, I¡¯m still a woman. No woman wants to bebeled as someone who sleeps around casually. And Lucy has made sure thatbel is firmly attached to me. I didn¡¯t even have the courage to find out what people were saying about me behind my back.

    Lucy¡¯s performance was wless-tears streaming down her face, the perfect picture of innocence wrongfully used. But I caught that sh of satisfaction in her eyes before she buried it beneath her carefully crafted vulnerability.

    "So, you¡¯re denying it was you?" I stared coldly at Lucy, fury burning through my veins so intensely I could almost feel the heat radiating from my skin.

    Lucy¡¯s expression changed subtly, a hint of smugness crossing her features before she quickly rearranged them into a mask of hurt. "Anna, I know you hate me, but you can¡¯t just make false usations. If you¡¯re iming I did this, you need evidence." She dismissively pointed at the man on the floor. "This doesn¡¯t count. You beat him until he said what you wanted to hear-that¡¯s coercion. Even the police wouldn¡¯t ept his testimony as evidence."

    I couldn¡¯t help but feel a cold appreciation for her cunning. Lucy had grown smarter since I¡¯dst dealt with her directly. Evidence-yes, I should have gathered more concrete proof before confronting her. I¡¯d acted too hastily, driven by anger. This woman had systematically destroyed my marriage to Jack; she certainly wasn¡¯t the innocent, naive girl she pretended to be.

    I exchanged a nce with Rachel, signaling it was time to leave. We needed to regroup and return with irrefutable evidence. But before we could move, footsteps echoed from the hallway.

    The butler rushed in, his usualposure visibly disturbed. "Madam, sir, Mr. Murphy is here."

    My heart skipped a beat, then immediately elerated to a thundering rhythm. Marcus is back?

    That was impossible. He should be in Europe, managing his business empire.

    I stared at the doorway, not even realizing I was holding my breath.

    And then he was there, his imposing figure nearly filling the doorframe.

    Marcus wore a ck coat that emphasized his broad shoulders, looking as immacte as ever, without a trace of travel fatigue on his face. My mind filled with questions. Why had he returned? I had essentially forced him to leave, made it clear there was no ce for him here. So whye back now of all times?

    Mary voiced my exact thoughts:

    "Marcus, why are you back?"

    "Business," he replied curtly, his tone revealing nothing.

    He walked directly to my side, his gaze sweeping over the beaten man on the floor before focusing on Mary. "What¡¯s happening here?"

    Mary instantly transformed into the gracious hostess, though her eyes remained cold. "This man was brought here by Anna. You¡¯ve just returned, so you wouldn¡¯t know, but the rumors about hertely have be quite... scandalous."

    Marcus turned to me abruptly. "You exin."

    I hesitated, caught off guard by his sudden demand.

    "The trending topic online and all those rumors-they were orchestrated by Lucy. This man is proof." Despite the tension in the room, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I¡¯d nned to gather more evidence before confronting Lucy again, but with Marcus here, I felt my chances of getting justice had suddenly improved exponentially.

    Marcus¡¯s face darkened as he turned to Lucy, not even bothering to question the man on the floor. "You have two choices. Either p yourself now, admit your wrongdoing, and apologize to Anna..."

    Lucy¡¯s face instantly drained of all color. When facing Jack¡¯s questioning, she had maintained herposure because she knew Mary would protect her. But now, facing Marcus-a man even George was careful not to offend ¡ªshe finally looked terrified.

    "Mr. Murphy, I didn¡¯t¡ªit wasn¡¯t me, I swear." Lucy suddenly burst into fresh tears, this time genuine ones born of fear. She lunged toward me, grabbing my hand. "Anna, please believe me! I never meant to harm you. I don¡¯t even know this man!"

    I yanked my hand away, disgust washing over me as I thought about all those second-rate trust fund boys thinking they could win a bet by sleeping with me. I wanted nothing more than to p her myself. "Of course you don¡¯t know him. You had Jared do all your dirty work for you."

    Lucy shook her head frantically, tears flying from her cheeks. "No, it really wasn¡¯t me, Anna! Please, you have to believe me!"

    Her performance was so heart-wrenching that if the offense hadn¡¯t been so severe, I might have softened.

    But Marcus remained unmoved, his voice dropping to a dangerous pitch.

    "Your second option: if I find the evidence myself, your entire family disappears from Skyview City."

    Lucy stiffened as if struck by lightning, her face turning even paler than before. Mary immediately moved forward to shield her, pulling Lucy behind her.

    "Marcus, what¡¯s wrong with you?" Mary hissed. "Lucy is about to be Jack¡¯s fianc¨¦e. How dare you side with an outsider against family? Making Lucy¡¯s family ¡¯disappear? What are you suggesting¡ªmurder?"

    Marcuspletely ignored Mary¡¯s outburst, his focus solely on Lucy.

    "Will you apologize or not?"

    Lucy cowered behind Mary, visibly trembling. She understood perfectly what Marcus meant-with a single word from him, her family would find themselves ostracized from Skyview City¡¯s elite circles. Without Skyview City, forget marrying into the Simpson family; she¡¯d lose even her current privilege of apanying Mary and Jack into high society.

    "Uncle Marcus." Jack finally broke his silence, his tone strained. "T¡¯ll handle this situation."

    The rigidity in his voice betrayed his displeasure at Marcus¡¯s intervention.

    After all, this was the Simpson residence; Jack was supposed to be in charge here. Marcus¡¯s intrusion as an elder rtive clearly stung him, especially since Marcus had immediately taken my side without hearing all the facts-making Jack, my ex-husband, look weak byparison.

    Lucy immediatelytched onto this lifeline. "Jack, I really didn¡¯t-"

    "Shut up!" Jack¡¯s sharpmand instantly silenced her.

    Lucy fell quiet, her eyes wide with desperation as she looked to Jack for salvation. He turned to me with a serious expression. "Anna, I¡¯ll make Lucy apologize to you and ensure she never appears at any event you attend.

    I¡¯ll also discipline her strictly from now on. Would that be eptable?"

    I couldn¡¯t hold back a coldugh. "Is that your idea of punishment? Mr. Simpson, is your precious Lucy¡¯s apology really worth that much?"

    "Lucy deserves consequences, but the situation isn¡¯t beyond repair," Jack insisted, his tone reasonable. "She¡¯s young; please give her a chance to correct her mistakes."

    I stared at him in disbelief. "Are you suggesting that because I¡¯m still standing here, because I haven¡¯t beenpletely reduced to being treated like a prostitute, Lucy should be forgiven? Is that your point?"

    Jack¡¯s brow furrowed deeply. "That¡¯s not what I meant. I¡¯m not saying you should forgive her¡ª"

    "Forgiveness is impossible!" My anger finally exploded, the control I¡¯d maintainedpletely shattering.

    "Jack, when ites to defending Lucy, you never disappoint, do you?"

    Lucy¡¯s POV

    Anna¡¯s words hung in the air for a moment before she turned and stormed out, leaving a thick cloud of tension behind her. Jack¡¯s face contorted with a mixture of frustration and regret as he moved to follow her.

    "You stay right where you are." Mary¡¯s voice cracked like lightning, freezing Jack in his tracks.

    Marcus gave a slight nod to Rachel and Sean, silently instructing them to remove the beaten man from the floor.

    Then those prating dark eyes turned toward me, and I felt a chill creep up my spine. There was nowhere to hide from that cold, assessing gaze.

    "You want to marry Jack?" Marcus asked, his voice so low it seemed to rumble from the depths of the earth.

    My throat constricted painfully, leaving me unable to either confirm or deny. I could only stare at him, my heart hammering so violently I thought it might burst from my chest. This was the first time I¡¯d felt Marcus Murphy¡¯s intimidating presence up close, that invisible force that seemed to suck all the oxygen from the room.

    "I will never ept someone like you as Jack¡¯s wife." His deration fell like a death sentence, cold and final. He turned away, his perfectly tailored suit jacket creating an elegant arc as he moved. "Remember my words."

    In that moment, the entire living room seemed to freeze. The blood drained from my face as a bone-deep coldness swept through my body. I had only heard his verdict, but it was enough to make me understand that my fate had been sealed. My legs weakened beneath me, my heart turned to ash, and all of my carefully crafted appearance suddenly felt ridiculous.

    "He doesn¡¯t get to decide! What does this have to do with him?" Mary snapped, her voice echoing sharply through the living room. She turned to me, her tone softening slightly. "Lucy dear, don¡¯t worry. As long as you do as I say, the position of Simpson family¡¯s daughter-inw is yours."

    I listened to her words but felt only absurdity and helplessness wash over me. How could Mary be so naive? One word from Marcus Murphy in business and family matters was enough to destroy all my hopes and dreams. I knew the truth all too clearly¡ªif Marcus disapproved, it meant William Murphy and Phillip Murphy would stand with him; if the Murphy family opposed, George Simpson would certainly not allow this marriage either.

    Their family ties were too close, and my carefullyid ns hadpletely fallen apart.

    All my hopes, all my ns, all my efforts to be the Simpson family¡¯s daughter-inw had evaporated in an instant. The future I had meticulously constructed was mercilessly shattered.

    There would be no mansion in Skke District, no status and glory of the Simpson family, none of the high society life I had always craved.

    I stood there feeling as though I¡¯d plunged into an icyke. The cold wasn¡¯t from Skyview City¡¯s winter winds but spread from deep within my core. My eyes felt dry and scratchy ¡ªI didn¡¯t even have the energy left to cry. Everything was over,pletely over.

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I stormed out of the Simpson estate, anger burning through my veins like wildfire. The air outside felt crisp against my flushed skin, but it did nothing to cool the rage bubbling inside me.

    I had just reached my car when a strong hand gripped my elbow. Before I could react, Marcus was pulling me away from my vehicle with surprising force.

    "What are you doing?" I gasped, finding myself being practically lifted off my feet.

    "You¡¯re not driving in this state," he stated tly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

    Before I could protest further, he had opened the passenger door of his sleek ck Bentley and all but deposited me inside.

    "Uncle Marcus!" I objected, but he had already closed the door and was walking around to the driver¡¯s side.

    As he slid into the seat beside me, I couldn¡¯t help but notice how the steering wheel looked almost delicate in hisrge hands. His broad shoulders nearly filled the entire driver¡¯s area, making the spacious luxury vehicle suddenly feel intimate.

    A strange flutter rose in my chest¡ª that familiar feeling that only seemed to appear in his presence.

    I quickly pushed it away, focusing instead on my indignation. "My car is right there. I can drive myself."

    Marcus didn¡¯t even nce my way as he started the engine, the powerful motor purring to life. "No."

    That single syble, delivered with such absolute finality, somehow managed to silence all my protests.

    The car pulled away from the Simpson estate, leaving Rachel and Sean standing bewildered next to my abandoned vehicle.

    "Uncle Marcus, howe Peter isn¡¯t with you? Don¡¯t tell me you came back alone?" I asked, my heartbeat still not recovered from that unexpected flutter moments ago.

    Marcus turned his gaze from the road briefly, his dark eyes studying me with an intensity that made me want to squirm in my seat. "Are you upset?"

    I blinked in confusion, then caught a glimpse of my reflection in the side mirror. My eyes were noticeably red-rimmed, giving the impression I¡¯d been crying rather than seething with fury.

    "It¡¯s anger," I managed a strained smile. "I haven¡¯t been this angry in a long time."

    As I said this, unwee memories of Lucy¡¯s past transgressions shed through my mind-Jack forcing me to share Phoenix Project¡¯s core technology, Lucy taking over the Phoenix project management position despite herpleteck of qualifications. Each instance was connected to her, like a tumor attached to my life, periodically ring up to make me sick. This time, I silently vowed, I wouldn¡¯t let her off so easily.

    I didn¡¯t want to dwell on this humiliating topic any longer. These weren¡¯t achievements to be proud of.

    After Marcus left, my life had resembled a rollercoaster ride, with one misfortune following another. I had no desire for him to know about my struggles, to see how pathetic things had be.

    "By the way, Uncle Marcus, why did you suddenly return?" I asked, deliberately changing the subject.

    "Some business to attend to," he answered tersely, his tone giving away nothing.

    "I just had a video call with you at William¡¯s ce. You didn¡¯t mention you wereing back. When did you arrive?" I pressed, feeling an inexplicable anticipation building inside me.

    Marcus nced at me sideways before turning his attention back to the road, his expression unreadable as he elerated smoothly through the traffic.

    "Not long ago," he said.

    Hearing this, I felt an involuntary sense of relief wash over me, followed immediately by confusion at my own reaction. Why did I keep connecting "the mysterious man from room 3303"

    with Marcus? It made no sense.

    Marcus¡¯s personality was straightforward¡ªif he wanted something, he would simply take it openly. He would never engage in secretive games.

 Chapter 57: Polished Venom

    <h4>Chapter 57: Polished Venom</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "Uncle Marcus, thank you for today," I said, working to keep my voice light.

    "What a coincidence that you showed up at the Simpson house. What brought you there?"

    Marcus¡¯s eyes swept over me briefly, his expression as unreadable as ever. "Had some business," he replied tly.

    I mentally sighed. The man was the definition of concise-borderline taciturn. From the moment he¡¯d entered the Simpson mansion to the moment we left, he¡¯d done nothing except stand up for me.

    As if sensing my thoughts, Marcus unexpectedly borated. "Handled your situation. Forgot my own business. I¡¯ll deal with itter."

    "Forgot?" I couldn¡¯t hide my surprise.

    That seemed like an awfully flimsy excuse for someone as meticulous as Marcus Murphy. Watching him awkwardly examine his car¡¯s interior, I wondered how he¡¯d even managed to drive here in the first ce.

    "Uncle Marcus, how long are you nning to stay in America this time?" I ventured, thinking I should at least offer to take him to dinner as a thank you. I was racking up quite a debt of gratitude with this man.

    His response was immediate and cold.

    "Don¡¯t worry. I didn¡¯te back for you. I won¡¯t be bothering you."

    A wave of embarrassment washed over me. I opened my mouth to exin, then thought better of it and swallowed my words. Thankfully, he smoothly changed the subject.

    "I¡¯ll have someone handle Lucy. You don¡¯t need to concern yourself with it."

    "That won¡¯t be necessary, Uncle Marcus," I replied firmly. "I want to handle this myself."

    Marcus turned to look at me then, his gaze intense and prating.

    I offered a small smile. "You¡¯re rted to the Simpsons, which puts you in an awkward position. Since Lucy and I need a final reckoning, I should be the one to handle it. Revenge is best served personally, don¡¯t you think?"

    His eyes darkened slightly. "Fine," he conceded.

    When we reached the gates of Shaw Estate, I made a polite invitation.

    "Uncle Marcus, would you like toe in? My grandmother and mother would be delighted to see you."

    I could sense he wanted to ask me something, but ultimately he just said, "I have other matters to attend to.

    Don¡¯t tell them I¡¯m back."

    "Then when will you be free? I¡¯d like to treat you to dinner," I offered sincerely.

    Marcus¡¯s expression darkened slightly at my overly formal tone. "We¡¯ll see," he replied, then promptly drove away, leaving me standing at the gates with a strange emptiness settling in my chest.

    "You¡¯re home early?" My mother, Elizabeth, emerged from the direction of the greenhouse, still wearing her gardening gloves. Upon seeing me, she quickly removed them and hurried over.

    "I was in the neighborhood handling some business, thought I¡¯d stop by," I improvised smoothly. "Where¡¯s Grandmother?"

    "Margaret caught a chill yesterday.

    She¡¯s taken her medicine and is resting now," my mother replied, concern evident in her voice.

    "A chill? Is it serious?" I asked, immediately rmed. I handed my purse to the waiting housekeeper and headed toward the stairs.

    Mother followed, her voice gentle but concerned. "The weather in Skyview City has been so unpredictabletely.

    One moment of carelessness and she caught cold. You should be careful too, Annie. Wear moreyers."

    I approached Margaret¡¯s bedroom door and knocked gently. When there was no response, I carefully pushed it open. The curtains were drawn, bathing the room in a soft, golden light. My grandmother was sleeping peacefully in her bed, silver hair spread across the pillow.

    I didn¡¯t disturb her, simply standing by the bedside silently watching her for a few minutes. Her breathing was steady, and herplexion showed no signs of serious illness. It appeared to be just amon cold. After confirming she wasn¡¯t in any real danger, I quietly closed the door and left the room.

    When I returned downstairs, my mother was arranging flowers in a vase.

    "She¡¯s asleep, so I didn¡¯t disturb her," I said softly. "It doesn¡¯t look serious, does it?"

    Mother nodded. "The doctor says it¡¯s just a normal cold. She¡¯ll be fine with a few days¡¯ rest. You don¡¯t need to worry too much."

    This reassured me considerably. After chatting with my mother about everyday matters for a while longer, I told her I had work to attend to and needed to leave.

    Rosa Vi felt different without Marcus¡¯s presence. The rooms seemedrger, emptier somehow. I pushed the thought aside as I focused on the task at hand.

    The man Samuel Griffin had delivered to us was kneeling on the floor of the study, trembling visibly as Sean and Rachel stood guard on either side of him. His face was still swollen from whatever "persuasion" Samuel¡¯s men had used, but the fear in his eyes was fresh and directed entirely at me.

    As soon as I entered, he prostrated himself. "Ms. Shaw, please spare me! I was just blinded by greed, Ms. Shaw.

    Jared paid me fifty thousand dors to set up more betting pools. It was all Jared Wood¡¯s idea!"

    I looked down at him coldly. "How many did you set up?"

    "Just two," he blurted out nervously.

    "Mr. Griffin¡¯s men caught me before I could set up any more."

    "I might be willing to spare you," I said calmly, "but you¡¯ll need to give me a reason."

    His eyes darted around the room, calcting. "I know Jared¡¯s secrets."

    "Talk."

    "Jared is in love with Lucy Taylor," he revealed, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "He even has wet dreams about her."

    I couldn¡¯t help butugh at this revtion. So that¡¯s why Jared had been willing to take such risks for Lucy¡ªunrequited love, that most potent of motivators.

    "What else?" I pressed. "I¡¯m a businesswoman. I need to see concrete, valuable information."

    Under ourbined pressure, he eventually spilled everything he knew about the Taylor family¡¯s secrets. Neil Taylor, Lucy¡¯s father, ran a constructionpany that consistently cut corners and used substandard materials while charging premium prices.

    "Ms. Shaw, they have a hospital project that¡¯s about to be inspected," he added desperately. "The inpatient wing at Tranquil Hospital in the West District.

    The Taylors did all the interior work."

    Rachel¡¯s eyes shed with indignation.

    "Boss, why don¡¯t we give them a taste of their own medicine? Let the Simpson family know that Lucy and Jared are having an affair. Let her experience what it¡¯s like to have her reputation smeared."

    I shook my head. "Lucy is fixated on marrying into wealth. She¡¯d never risk that for Jared. At most, she¡¯s exploiting his feelings to make him do her bidding." I tapped my fingers thoughtfully against the desk. "That approach would be pointless. Once Jack investigates and finds nothing, Lucy will just y the victim, cry in his arms, and all our efforts will be wasted. We need to target her real weakness."

    I epted the tea Sean had prepared and took a contemtive sip. After a moment of consideration, I turned to Rachel. "I want you to handle this.

    First, verify if this information is urate, then we¡¯ll proceed ordingly."

    Sean looked at me with undisguised admiration. "Sometimes, Ms. Shaw, you make me feel inadequate. You¡¯re younger than me, yet you handle situations with suchposure and wisdom. I¡¯m learning a lot from you."

    I smiled at thepliment. "You should have seen me when I was at my lowest-bruised and battered. You joined me during a rtively good period. Rachel and Daniel had it much worse when they first started working with me. You should talk to them sometime about how naive and foolish I used to be, even worse than Lucy."

    Privately, I thought: *The difference is that Lucy has Jack protecting her, allowing her to remain naive. I never had that luxury.* If I didn¡¯t crush Lucypletely this time, there would be a next time, and a time after that, endlessplications. I couldn¡¯t allow that to happen.

    Anna¡¯s POV

    He had noticed me, and that look in his eyes sent a cold chill down my spine. I watched as he whispered something in Nora¡¯s ear before making his way toward me.

    "Ms. Shaw, it¡¯s been a while," Samuel said as he approached. His posture was rxed, confident-the stance of a predator who believed he had his prey cornered.

    I forced my lips into a polite smile.

    "Mr. Griffin, you¡¯re still in Skyview City. Your business must be going well." My tone remained light, but I kept my guard firmly up.

    Samuel raised his champagne flute, a smirk ying at the corners of his lips. "When Samuel Griffin sets his mind to something, failure is not an option." The threat behind his words hung in the air between us,

    unmistakable yet impossible to directly call out.

    I simply smiled in response, taking a sip of my own champagne. There was no need to escte things in the middle of a charity g. Besides, antagonizing him openly would only give him the satisfaction of knowing he¡¯d gotten under my skin.

    And then I saw her-Jasmine Butler, the forty-something investment mogul whose career I¡¯d followed since my college days. She stood near one of the fundraising disys, sipping a martini while observing the crowd with keen eyes.

    "If you¡¯ll excuse me, Mr. Griffin," I

    said, already moving past him, "there¡¯s someone I need to speak with."

    I didn¡¯t wait for his response, striding purposefully toward Jasmine. Here was a woman who had started with nothing, raised a child as a single mother, and built an empire of five sessful investment firms. If I needed a role model in this male-dominated industry, she was it.

    "Ms. Butler," I greeted her with genuine warmth, extending my hand.

    "I¡¯m Anna Shaw. It¡¯s such an honor to meet you."

    Jasmine¡¯s handshake was firm, her smile reaching her eyes as she assessed me. "The pleasure is mine, Ms. Shaw. I¡¯ve heard impressive things about you."

    "All good, I hope," I replied, feeling a girlish nervousness I hadn¡¯t experienced in years.

    "Ms. Shaw, you began managing your family business at eighteen? That¡¯s truly impressive," Jasmine said, studying me with interest.

    I shifted slightly, not wanting to dive into my family history during our first meeting. "Yes, circumstances were...

    Herugh was warm and genuine. "I had my share of sleepless nights and disaster meetings. The morous part onlyes after you¡¯ve survived the struggles."

    We fell into an easy conversation about business strategies and market trends.

    For the first time that evening, I felt truly engaged rather than merely performing the social dance required of me. Jasmine¡¯s insights were sharp, her advice practical, and I found myself absorbing every word.

    Then I heard it-the unmistakable

    sound of mockingughter just behind me, followed by a voice that was deliberately pitched to carry.

    "Shaw Corp is such a majorpany, yet they only donated $100,000? How stingy."

    My spine stiffened. I didn¡¯t need to turn around to know who was behind this performance.

    "Lucy, your future father-inw is so generous," another voice chimed in.

    "When that Hope Elementary School is built, those children will have Jack¡¯s father to thank."

    My throat tightened. Being publicly humiliated like this stung, especially in front of someone I admired. I caught Jasmine¡¯s eye and saw her watching the scene unfold with interest.

    "Please don¡¯t say that," Lucy¡¯s sharine voice dripped with false modesty. "Mr. Simpson does charity without expecting anything in return.

    Besides, he¡¯s not my father-inw yet.

    Stop saying that or I¡¯ll get upset."

    *God, could she be more obvious?* I wanted to roll my eyes at her transparent performance. Lucy had perfected the art of attacking while appearing to defend.

    "And don¡¯t talk about Anna like that," she continued, her voice a masterpiece of insincere concern. "Whether someone donates a lot or a little, it¡¯s the thought that counts."

    I mentally snorted. *The thought that counts?* This woman was getting better at her backhandedpliments.

    As expected, her friends immediately seized the opening she¡¯d provided.

    "It is the thought that counts-just seems like Anna Shaw doesn¡¯t have much thought for those children in the mountains," one of them said, barely

    suppressing a giggle.

    "Exactly," another chimed in. "Even the Turner family, who aren¡¯t as wealthy as the Shaws, donated $100,000. And the Porters, who are close to the Shaw family, donated $300,000."

    I took a deep breath, forcing my shoulders to rx. Turning to Jasmine, I decided to be straightforward. "Cash flow has been tighttely," I admitted.

    "Sorry you had to witness that, Ms. Butler."

    Jasmine waved her hand dismissively, a knowing smile ying on her lips.

    "What¡¯s there to be sorry about? Every businessperson goes through cash crunches. I once attended charity events without donating a cent. I was so broke I could barely make payroll.

    If I hadn¡¯t finally turned things around, who knows what I¡¯d be doing now. Don¡¯t feel embarrassed."

    Her candor was refreshing, washing away my difort in an instant. "I¡¯m not embarrassed, really. I was just worried you might think poorly of me.

    Ms. Butler, I¡¯d love to learn from you ¡ªI wouldn¡¯t want you thinking I¡¯m stingy."

    "Stingy?" She chuckled. "That¡¯s not the word thates to mind when I hear your name. ¡¯Resilient¡¯ is more like it."

    Just as I was about to respond, Catherine¡¯s voice cut through the air like a whip crack.

    "Some people never learn. Lucy Taylor, didn¡¯t that p hurt enoughst time?

    Why are you here putting down Anna Shaw? Is your name on the donation list?" She stalked toward Lucy¡¯s little group, her eyes zing. "Lucy, how much did you donate anyway?"

 Chapter 58: The Predatorâ€™s Fall

    <h4>Chapter 58: The Predator¡¯s Fall</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    My lips twitched with the effort not to smile. Trust Catherine toe charging to my defense like an avenging angel in heels.

    Lucy immediately pivoted to her favorite role the victim. "Catherine, I¡¯m just here with Jack," she said, eyes widening in feigned innocence.

    "Charity events like this are meant for established families-it¡¯s not my ce as a young woman to take the lead."

    Her friends closed ranks around her. "Miss Murphy, everyone knows you¡¯re close with Anna Shaw," one of them said, indignation coloring her voice.

    "Even if you want to stand up for her, you shouldn¡¯t bully Lucy."

    "That¡¯s right," another added. "Anna is already divorced from Jack Simpson, and Jack is going to marry Lucy. Lucy is your cousin¡¯s future wife, after all.Did you donate money?"

    I watched Catherine fold her arms

    across her chest, her expression one of pure disdain. Someone from the crowd, apparently checking the donation disy, whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear: "Catherine¡¯s name is actually on the list¡ªshe donated $80,000."

    Lucy and her friends fell silent.

    Catherine didn¡¯t miss a beat. "People who haven¡¯t donated a cent should keep their mouths shut. Who are you to judge how much others give? Even if someone donated just ten dors, it¡¯s not for your nasty mouth toment on."

    I bit the inside of my cheek to keep fromughing as Lucy¡¯s group retreated, thoroughly chastened.

    Walking forward, I ced a hand on Catherine¡¯s arm, giving it a grateful squeeze before making introductions.

    "Ms. Butler, may I introduce Catherine Murphy? Catherine, this is Jasmine Butler."

    "I¡¯ve heard so much about you, Ms. Butler," Catherine said, her business instincts immediately kicking in. "If you have any profitable venturesing up, would you keep me in mind?"

    I smiled indulgently at my friend¡¯s directness. "Our Miss Murphy only loves two things: freedom and investment."

    Jasmine seemed more amused than put off by Catherine¡¯s straightforwardness.

    "Next time I have a project suitable for you, Miss Murphy, I promise you¡¯ll be the first to know."

    I watched as Jasmine Butler slid into her ck Bentley, the driver closing the door with practiced precision. The cool evening air felt refreshing against my skin after the stuffy atmosphere of the g. Around us, a parade of luxury vehicles rolled through the circr driveway, valets rushing between them with keys jangling in their hands.

    As her car pulled away, I exhaled deeply, feeling the tension finally drain from my body. I turned to Catherine, wrapping an arm around her waist and leaning against her slightly.

    "Thanks, babe." My voice came out in a near-whisper, fatigue suddenly washing over me. "I owe you dinner for that save back there with Lucy."

    Catherine¡¯s shoulder bumped mine yfully, but I could sense something different in her demeanor¡ªa subtle undercurrent of restlessness that wasn¡¯t typically there.

    "Don¡¯t mention it. Besides, I genuinely want to work with Jasmine too. I¡¯m not getting any younger, and I can¡¯t just keep floating around doing nothing forever." Her tone aimed for casual, but missed the mark by inches.

    I straightened up, studying her face in the soft glow of the exterior lighting.

    "What¡¯s going on? Did your parents say something?"

    Catherine held up two fingers, a sh of irritation crossing her features. "Marriage or career, pick one." A defiant snort escaped her. "Are they kidding? What¡¯s so great about marriage? Unless I find a man who makes me want to say yes willingly, nobody¡¯s forcing me into anything."

    I nodded, a surge of admiration rising in my chest. "So you chose career.

    Good for you."

    "I¡¯m serious-if you¡¯re going after the Skke District, count me in." Her eyes locked onto mine with surprising intensity.

    My heart warmed at her offer, but caution tempered my reaction.

    "We can do that," I said after a thoughtful pause, "but we should sign a proper agreement. Business is business, even between friends."

    Catherine rolled her eyes, waving dismissively. "Fine, fine, whatever you say. I¡¯ll set up thepany right away so my parents and Simon can stop nagging me."

    That caught me off guard. "What does Simon have to do with you starting apany?"

    She sighed, frustration radiating from her in waves. "That little brat¡¯s getting too big for his britches, wants to follow Uncle Marcus¡¯s footsteps and build his own empire overseas. He¡¯s trying to dump Murphy Global in myp." She shook her head, lips pressed into a tight line. "But in this economic climate, what¡¯s he going to aplish out there?"

    I waited, sensing there was more.

    "Besides, I¡¯m not like you, Anna." Her voice dropped, vulnerability seeping through the cracks of her usual confident facade. "I don¡¯t have the confidence to take over Murphy Global. If anything went wrong under my watch, I¡¯d be the family disgrace forever."

    "You know me¡ªI¡¯m used to my freedom," she continued, her eyes reflecting a yearning I recognized all too well. "I just want a smallpany to y with, and someone to manage it for me. Meanwhile, I can do whatever I want, go wherever I please."

    "Alright, call me when you¡¯re ready," I said, giving her arm a gentle squeeze.

    "I¡¯ll help you figure it out."

    She smiled, the tension in her shoulders visibly easing. A ck Escde pulled up, and her driver stepped out, nodding respectfully in our direction.

    "That¡¯s my ride," Catherine said, suppressing a yawn. "Time to call it a night."

    We exchanged quick goodbyes, and I watched as she climbed into the SUV and disappeared into the night traffic of Skyview City.

    Turning back toward the g, I decided to make a final round of goodbyes.

    As I walked past a private lounge area, a strong hand suddenly shot out from the doorway, grabbing my wrist and pulling me inside with surprising force. The door mmed shut behind

    me with a loud bang, the sound echoing in the small space.

    My heart lurched into my throat, adrenaline flooding my system. I whirled around, ready to defend myself, when my eyes locked with a familiar pair.

    "You?" I blurted out.

    Samuel¡¯s POV

    "You¡¯re still here?" I asked irritably, bracing one hand against the wall, effectively caging her between my body and the wallpaper. I knew I reeked of alcohol and sweat, but the uncontroble fire coursing through my body was far worse. Seeing Anna pressed against the wall trying to escape gave me a twisted sense of satisfaction.

    "When I leave is none of your business, Mr. Griffin," she responded, feigningposure though her pulse visibly raced at her throat.

    "You really are... asking for trouble," I managed through gritted teeth, fighting against the raging inferno inside me. I could feel veins pulsing at my temples, my vision swimming with need.

    Her eyes narrowed, scanning my face.

    "Are you drunk or have you been... drugged?"

    The question cut through my haze momentarily. Drugged? The possibility hadn¡¯t even urred to me, but it made sense.

    I didn¡¯t want to admit I¡¯d been caught off guard, but I was in too much difort to maintain the pretense.

    I¡¯d only intended to grab a random server to help relieve my condition, nning to pay them off generously afterward. Never did I expect to pull in Anna Shaw of all people.

    I forced my face into a casual, flirtatious expression. "That¡¯s right, Ms. Shaw. I¡¯m in quite a state, and since you¡¯ve interrupted my ns, perhaps you could be a good Samaritan?" I blew gently on her ear, deliberately provocative despite the way my lungs burned for oxygen.

    "I¡¯m sorry, Mr. Griffin, but I¡¯ve never been much for charity work. You¡¯ll need to find someone else," she tried to push me away, but I didn¡¯t budge.

    Though I¡¯d cultivated the image of just yboy, my chest and arms possessed genuine strength. I looked her up and down shamelessly: "Finding someone else wouldn¡¯t be nearly as exciting as you, Ms. Shaw. With looks like yours, anyone would be tempted."

    I moved closer to her ear, my burning lips almost touching her earlobe: "I told you before, I¡¯m interested in you."

    The moment those words left my mouth, a searing pain shot up from my groin. I doubled over, clutching myself, my face instantly turning dark as agony exploded through my lower body. "You... you bitch..." The pain was so intense I couldn¡¯t even finish my sentence.

    "My looks came from my parents, not for perverts like you to fantasize about," Anna dered, looking down at me with undisguised triumph. "Mr. Griffin, this is karma for all your misdeeds!"

    The pain forced me to close my eyes, cold sweat breaking out on my forehead even as the rest of my body continued to burn. She poked my shoulder, her voiceced with satisfaction: "Not feeling so predatory now, are you? See, one move from me and you¡¯re cured. No need to thank me."

    I leaned against the wall, hunched over, in too much pain to even retort.

    The drug still raged through my system, but the agony she¡¯d inflicted had momentarily overpowered it.

    "Um, are you... broken?" Anna suddenly looked worried, which surprised me.

    I didn¡¯t answer, but when she took out her phone to record video, I wished I could smash it to pieces.

    "Mr. Griffin, here¡¯s the deal. I¡¯ll take you to the hospital. But to ensure you don¡¯t try to me meter, I¡¯m recording this as evidence. You¡¯ve been drugged, right? You¡¯re in pain, correct?"

    I red at her with pure venom, mentally imagining terrible revenge scenarios. The pain was something only men could truly understand, and this damned woman wasn¡¯t rushing to help me but was instead recording me in my weakest moment!

    "Mr. Griffin, if you don¡¯t nod, I¡¯m leaving, and tonight¡¯s events will have nothing to do with me."

    Assessing the situation, I realized being seen in this state by Anna alone was better than being exposed to everyone at the g. With extreme reluctance, I nodded.

    "Mr. Griffin, you forced my hand. I¡¯m no match for you physically, and if you recover tomorrow and decide to cause trouble for me, I¡¯d be in a difficult position," Anna said with satisfaction as she backed up the video. "Rest assured, as long as I remain safe, no one else will see this video."

    "Stop talking and get me to a hospital," I said through clenched teeth. If I didn¡¯t get medical attention soon, I felt I might explode from thebination of drug-induced heat and the throbbing pain between my legs.

 Chapter 59: The Price of One Night

    <h4>Chapter 59: The Price of One Night</h4>

    Seeing Anna take out her phone again, I became alert: "What are you doing now?"

    "Calling my security team..." she began, but I cut her off.

    "Don¡¯t call anyone," I said coldly.

    "Either you take me to the hospital yourself, or I¡¯ll use you as my remedy right here." Despite being in excruciating pain, I maintained my intimidating demeanor, refusing to appearpletely vulnerable.

    When we left the private room, the hallway was mercifully empty. I straightened my posture, pretending nothing was wrong, deliberately draping my arm around Anna¡¯s shoulders and enjoying her obvious difort.

    "Mr. Griffin, don¡¯t push your luck," she warned through gritted teeth.

    The intense pain had subsided somewhat, but I was still fighting waves of heat coursing through my body. I leaned in close to her ear with a mockingugh: "If you want me to take you, just say so. I promise you¡¯ll see stars."

    Seeing her trying to move her head away, I deliberately moved closer: "What should we do, Ms. Shaw? It seems our fate isn¡¯t finished yet."

    "Mr. Griffin, you¡¯d better behave.

    Getting to the hospital quickly is important-your future happiness depends on it," she said coldly, which effectively silenced me. I had no desire to risk permanent damage to my "manhood."

    Rachel Wilson suddenly appeared, her eyes widening at the sight of us: "Ms. Shaw, what¡¯s going on...?"

    "Quick, help me get Mr. Griffin to the hospital," Anna said, eagerly pushing me toward Rachel as if she¡¯d found a lifeline.

    In the car, I gulped down ice water from the minibar, which did ease the burning sensation somewhat. However, the area Anna had struck still throbbed painfully¡ªI was afraid to touch it, uncertain if there was any damage. The drug still pulsed through my system, but the pain and cold water had diluted its worst effects.

    I leaned back against the seat, closing my eyes and beginning to mentally review everyone I¡¯d encountered that evening. I¡¯d primarily been drinking with George and Jack ... aside from them, who else could have drugged me?

    Lucy¡¯s POV

    I stood at the hotel entrance, watching until Anna¡¯s carpletely disappeared from view before finally putting away my phone. I couldn¡¯t help the smile that crept across my lips -what perfect timing. Samuel and Anna leaving together? This "fact" would be my perfect weapon, requiring no fabrication to drive a wedge between them.

    When I spotted Jack heading my way, I quickly adjusted my expression, stering on a mask of genuine concern before hurrying toward him.

    "Jack, are you looking for Samuel? I just saw him leave with Anna." I made my voice sound slightly urgent, looking directly into his eyes with feigned helpfulness.

    Jack¡¯s face immediately darkened, his piercing gaze fixed on me. "Lucy, how can you lie so easily? Anna and Samuel have fallen outpletely¡ª they wouldn¡¯t leave together."

    I pouted, deliberately making my eyes water as I adopted the expression of someone unjustly used.

    "Jack, don¡¯t you trust me? I¡¯m not lying to you, and I certainly don¡¯t want to incriminate Anna. She really did leave with Samuel. I tried to call out to them, but they¡¯d already gotten into Anna¡¯s car and driven away. Jack, everything I¡¯m saying is true."

    I calcted every expression and tone with clinical precision, tears welling up perfectly in my eyes without falling.

    This was my specialty-innocent, sincere Lucy Taylor, the poor girl who only wanted to help but was misunderstood instead.

    However, Jack¡¯s reaction caught mepletely off guard. He violently shook off my hand, his eyes filled with disappointment and anger: "ENOUGH!

    I don¡¯t want to hear another negative word about Anna from your mouth.

    You think I don¡¯t know about the conversation you had with your friends at the party today? Lucy, I¡¯m so disappointed in you."

    I stood frozen, watching in shock as he walked away without looking back. He knew about my conversation with my friends! The carefully crafted image of innocence I¡¯d built was crumbling before my eyes! For a moment, I felt both furious and panicked, but I quickly regained myposure.

    After Jack left, I remained standing there, all traces of hurt and sadness instantly vanishing from my face, reced by a cold smile.

    This attempt may have failed to drive a wedge between them, but I certainly wasn¡¯t giving up. Jack¡¯s reaction today only confirmed what I¡¯d begun to suspect-his feelings for Anna hadn¡¯t died.

    Rachel¡¯s POV

    I stood in the hospital room watching Samuel Griffin. The doctors had treated the aphrodisiac in his system.

    His face was no longer red, his breathing normal, but fury filled his eyes.

    "Your boss made a mistake," Samuel said, ring at me from the bed. "Tell Anna Shaw I won¡¯t forget tonight."

    I met his gaze. "Mr. Griffin, the doctors say you¡¯ll recover fully. This ended well for everyone."

    His jaw clenched. "I can¡¯t have sex for a month. Do you know what that means for someone like me?"

    "Medical advice should be taken seriously," I replied. "Ms. Shaw brought you to the hospital immediately. You should thank her."

    I picked up my purse. "We did what anyone would do. No need for thanks."

    Thement silenced him. I turned, and walked to the door.

    I crossed the parking lot. Ms. Shaw waited in her car near the entrance.

    When I opened the door, she reclined in the driver¡¯s seat with eyes closed.

    "Let¡¯s go," she said without looking.

    "I¡¯m dead tired."

    I got in, studying her face. The g had exhausted her-shadows showed under her makeup.

    "Rosa Vi is closer," I suggested. "We could stay there tonight."

    Ms. Shaw opened her eyes, frowned, then nodded. "Fine."

    She didn¡¯t ask about Samuel, and I didn¡¯t say anything. The drive to Rosa Vi was silent.

    The house was dark when we arrived.

    No one had been here since Mr. Murphy left, but the management service kept it clean.

    "I¡¯ll prepare the bedroom," I said.

    "Want something to eat?"

    "No." She headed upstairs. "Just a shower and sleep."

    Ms. Shaw emerged from the bathroom in a robe. Iid out pajamas from the emergency bag I keep in the car.

    "Get the scar cream from my purse," she said. "Oscar said apply it every night."

    I got the cream as shey on her stomach, robe pulled down to expose her back. Red marks from her jump at Olympus Club stood out against her skin.

    As I applied cream to the wounds, she tensed beneath my fingers.

    "Samuel will recover," I said. "Though he can¡¯t have sex for a month."

    Ms. Shaw made a sound like a suppressedugh. "That¡¯s torture for someone with his reputation."

    "He was displeased," I said, applying cream to a scrape on her shoulder.

    "Will he seek revenge on you?"

    Anna¡¯s POV

    The few sses of champagne I¡¯d had at the charity g had left me with a pleasant buzz but no desire to sleep.

    Restless, I reached for my phone on the nightstand. Before I could think better of it, my fingers were already typing a message to the mysterious man from room 3303 at Sapphire Sky Hotel.

    [Meet up?)

    The directness of my own message surprised me. I stared at the screen, my heartbeat quickening as I waited for his response. It came just secondster, a single word:

    [No.]

    "Typical," I muttered, tossing my phone onto the duvet beside me. A sh of irritation surged through me.

    During our brief encounters, he¡¯d made his interest in me painfully obvious. And now that I was actually reaching out, he dismissed me with a single word?

    I grabbed a pillow and pressed it over my face, trying to smother the conflicting emotions bubbling inside me. Then my phone lit up again. I snatched it up, half-expecting some lengthy exnation.

    Instead, there was just one more word:

    [Busy.)

    I raised an eyebrow, feeling oddly vindicated by this addition. At least he felt the need to exin his refusal. The irritation began to dissolve, reced by a reluctant understanding. Considering his physique and...other qualities, I supposed I could forgive this one instance. After all, Mr. 3303 had earned some grace with his performance.

    I ced the phone face down on the nightstand and pulled the covers up.

    This time, sleep came more easily.

    Hearing Rachel¡¯s words, I sighed, "Samuel is a vindictive bastard, but I¡¯m prepared. Make sure you keep that video I sent you."

    "Understood," Rachel nodded, her eyes reflecting trust in me.

    "I wonder who drugged him tonight," I murmured, more thinking aloud than asking.

    Rachel pondered for a moment before saying, "Recently, I haven¡¯t heard of Samuel being close to anyone except the Simpson family. But since Samuel is already in contact with the Simpson family, surely they wouldn¡¯t do something like this right now?"

    "That¡¯s not necessarily true. George and Samuel are cut from the same cloth-equally ruthless in their methods," I replied with sarcasm and mockery. This was the first time I¡¯d spoken so candidly about my former father-inw. Before, no matter what I thought, I would never easily reveal my opinions about him, but now, all pretense and respect had vanished.

    "Ms. Shaw, we have a situation."

    Rachel¡¯s voice, tinged with unusual concern, interrupted my morning skincare ritual.

    "What happened?" I asked casually.

    "You¡¯re trending online."

    I shrugged. "That¡¯s nothing new. My evening gown fromst night must have created quite a stir." My dress had been a calcted choice elegant yet daring, designed to make a statement without appearing desperate for attention.

    Rachel shifted her weight, clutching her tablet tightly. "Your gown did trend, yes, but there¡¯s something else¡ª rumors about you and Samuel."

    That got my attention. "Samuel and me?" I turned to face her directly.

    "What kind of rumors?"

    She handed me her tablet without a word. The screen disyed a series of photographs taken atst night¡¯s g ¡ªall featuring Samuel and me leaving together. While only our backs were visible in most shots, my distinctive dress made me immediately identifiable.

    "The initial trending topic was about your stunning appearance," Rachel exined, "but these rtionship rumors just surfaced. I suspect someone paid to promote them." She pointed to several details in the photos. "Moreover, all press had left thetter half of the g-they weren¡¯t allowed to stay. From the image quality, these were definitely taken with a smartphone."

    I nodded, quickly following her reasoning. "So you¡¯re suggesting whoever took these photos and pushed the story is the same person, and likely someone who has a grudge against me?"

    "Precisely. And I have a strong suspicion about who it might be."

    "Who?" Although I already had my own suspicions.

    "Lucy."

 Chapter 60: Left Behind

    <h4>Chapter 60: Left Behind</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    At the mention of Lucy¡¯s name, I took the tablet from Rachel¡¯s hands and carefully scrolled through the photos again. The angles were deliberately misleading¡ªin one, Samuel appeared to be whispering intimately in my ear; in another, a dismissive nce I¡¯d thrown his way had been captured in a way that made it look like a coy smile.

    "It must be her," I agreed, a coldugh escaping my lips. "Look at these camera angles¡ªin this one, Samuel¡¯s face is practically pressed against mine.

    And this one? I never smiled at him like that. That was clearly a dismissive smirk."

    I scrolled through thements, each one more vicious than thest. They spected wildly about my "rtionship" with Samuel, suggesting I was desperate to align myself with Heritage Group. Some even implied I¡¯d orchestrated my divorce from Jack to pursue wealthier, more powerful men.

    Thements made my blood boil, but I refused to let it show. Instead, I exited that trending topic and clicked on the one about my appearance at the g.

    Here, the tone was entirely different.

    Users had posted multiple high-quality photos of me, captured by professional photographers before they¡¯d been asked to leave. Thements were universally positive:

    [Anna is absolutely stunning! She should be on runways instead of in boardrooms¡ªbut we¡¯re d she¡¯s blessing the business world with her presence.]

    (Perfect figure, gorgeous face, impable style this woman has it all!]

    [Whoever started those other rumors is clearly just jealous of her. No question.]

    By the time I handed the tablet back to Rachel, my mood had miraculously stabilized.

    Compared to the genuine admiration I received for simply being myself, the manufactured scandal seemed insignificant.

    "Should I arrange for someone to check the security footage? If Lucy is behind this, she must have left some evidence," Rachel asked cautiously.

    I returned my attention to my skincare routine, pumping a small amount of moisturizer onto my fingertips. "Don¡¯t bother. Do you really think I¡¯m worried about rumors like this? If I dealt with every piece of gossip, I¡¯d have time for nothing else."

    Just then, the doorbell downstairs rang frantically. Not knowing who it was, Rachel went down to check.

    I pulled out a soft gray knit dress and paired it with a camel-colored cardigan ¡ªperfect for the light rain currently falling outside.

    I had just taken off my pajamas when rapid footsteps approached my bedroom, apanied by Rachel¡¯s urgent voice:

    "Mr. Simpson, you can¡¯t go in there!

    Ms. Shaw isn¡¯t receiving visitors right now."

    Hearing Jack¡¯s name, my body instantly tensed. I hastily wrapped my robe around my half-dressed body and moved toward the door, ready to confront him.

    I reached the door just as it began to open, catching a glimpse of Jack¡¯s determined expression. Without hesitation, I mmed it shut with enough force to make the wood frame shudder.

    I stared at the door I¡¯d just mmed in Jack¡¯s face, my heart racing. The nerve of that man, barging into Rosa Vi like he still had some im to me or this ce.

    "Anna, we need to talk," Jack called through the door, his voice muffled but still carrying thatmanding tone I¡¯d grown to detest.

    "I¡¯m changing," I replied coolly. "Wait downstairs if you must, but I¡¯m not discussing anything with you half-dressed."

    Silence followed, then the sound of retreating footsteps. I exhaled slowly, my shoulders rxing as I moved away from the door.

    I slipped out of my robe and quickly dressed. As I stepped into a pair offortable ts, I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror.

    The woman staring back at me looked nothing like the polished, untouchable figure fromst night¡¯s charity g.

    Gone was the sleek updo and statement jewelry, reced by soft waves and minimal makeup. This version of me looked more approachable.

    When I descended the stairs, I found Jack standing in the living room with Rachel hovering nearby, her posture tense and watchful. Jack¡¯s eyes snapped to me immediately, tracking my movement as I reached the bottom step.

    "You¡¯re going out," he stated, his tone somewhere between usation and disbelief.

    I deliberately maintained my distance, positioning myself near the entry table where I ced my purse. Rachel moved to stand slightly behind me, a silent ally.

    "I have a lunch appointment," I replied evenly, checking my watch with exaggerated care. A flicker of annoyance passed through me-why did he always feel entitled to exnations about my life? "If there¡¯s nothing urgent, Mr. Simpson, I¡¯d prefer if you said nothing at all."

    I knew him too well-the slight narrowing of his eyes, the tightening of his jaw. Even before he opened his mouth, I could predict his next words with depressing uracy.

    "With whom?" he demanded, that familiar possessive edge creeping into his voice.

    "How is that any of your business?" I asked, my voice dropping several degrees colder.

    Jack took a step closer, his expression hardening. "Is it Samuel?"

    Of course. He was still fixated on those ridiculous rumors. A sharp painnced through a tender spot in my heart¡ªa ce that once held trust and hope, now housing only disappointment and hurt.

    I sighed, beyond the point of exnations. "Think whatever you want, Jack."

    I turned toward the door, gesturing for Rachel to follow. "Lock up when you leave," I added without looking back, my hand already on the doorknob.

    "Anna¡ª" he started, but I was already stepping outside, letting the door close firmly behind me.

    Once inside the car, Rachel turned to me with a curious expression. "Ms. Shaw, why didn¡¯t you just tell Mr. Simpson the truth? About your lunch with Mr. William Murphy?"

    "Let him believe what he wants," I said softly, a barely perceptible note of sadness coloring my voice. "If his misunderstanding keeps him away, all the better."

    Jack¡¯s POV

    I stood in the living room of Rosa Vi, the door still vibrating from the force with which it had closed behind Anna. The message couldn¡¯t have been clearer if she¡¯d painted it on the wall¡ª she didn¡¯t care enough to even offer an exnation. The utter dismissal left me feeling hollow, like I¡¯d be nothing more than a nuisance to be brushed aside.

    "Jack... I turned to see Lucy standing behind me, her eyes filled with unmistakable sympathy. I hadn¡¯t even noticed her following me here.

    "Anna¡¯s already gone, Jack," she said softly. "She doesn¡¯t care about you anymore."

    Her words pierced through me like shards of ss. My ears rang with denial, my mind refusing to process what she was saying. This can¡¯t be happening. Not Anna. Not like this.

    How could the woman who once pledged herself to me at the altar change sopletely? The Anna I knew would have at least offered an exnation, would have cared enough to clear up a misunderstanding. We had built a life together, shared dreams, made promises how could all of that evaporate so quickly?

    I shook my head, my throat constricting painfully. "She wouldn¡¯t..."

    Lucy¡¯s eyes reddened as she stepped closer. "Jack, I wasn¡¯t lying to you. You saw the photos online, didn¡¯t you?

    Anna really did leave with Samuelst night."

    The evidence crashed down on me like a physical weight. The pictures didn¡¯t lie-Anna and Samuel, leaving together, his hand possessively ced on her lower back. All those whispers at the g suddenly made sense. My chest tightened with each breath, reality finally breaking through my desperate denial.

    "Jack, I might envy Anna," Lucy continued, her voice catching. "But I would never lie to you about this. You used me unfairly."

    Tears began streaming down her face, silent but impossible to ignore.

    Watching her, I felt a stab of guilt pierce through my pain. I had taken my frustration out on her, ming the messenger for a message I didn¡¯t want to hear.

    I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to keep my own emotions in check. The mixture of hurt, jealousy, and regret was overwhelming, threatening to pull me under. With a heavy sigh, I awkwardly ced my hand on her shoulder.

    "I¡¯m sorry," I managed, my voice rough. "I was wrong to use you. What do you want? I¡¯ll get it for you."

    The words came out t and mechanical, but it was the best I could offer in my state. A peace offering, a way to make amends for misdirecting my anger.

    Like flipping a switch, Lucy¡¯s expression transformed. The tears still glistened on her cheeks, but a smile now brightened her face. "I don¡¯t want anything," she assured me. "I just want you to be happy. Please don¡¯t be sad anymore."

    I attempted a smile in return, but it felt like a grimace,sting only a fraction of a second before my face fell back into its natural state of misery.

    "Come on," I said, already moving toward the door. "I¡¯ll take you home before heading to Simpson Group."

    Anna¡¯s POV

    At the Murphy Estate, I had just finished telling Catherine about what happenedst night.

    Catherine¡¯s eyes were wide open.

    "Annie, you¡¯re absolutely insane! If that bastard had really gotten hurt, you¡¯d bepletely screwed." She shook her head in disbelief.

    I shrugged with practiced nonchnce, hoping she couldn¡¯t detect the nervousness fluttering beneath myposed exterior. "I didn¡¯t have time to think it through. He was drugged, aggressive, and I was trapped in a room with him. What was I supposed to do? Let him use me as his remedy?"

    I took another sip of tea, avoiding her gaze. "Besides, he crossed paths with me at exactly the wrong moment.

    That¡¯s his bad luck, not mine."

    Catherine leaned forward, even though we were alone, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper: "Samuel isn¡¯t someone who forgets slights. You basically incapacitated him, then abandoned him at a hospital. He¡¯s definitely going to seek revenge." Her manicured nails tapped anxiously against the armrest. "I¡¯m serious, Annie. That man is dangerous."

    "I¡¯ve already made an enemy of him," I replied, setting my cup down with more force than necessary. "What¡¯s one more offense at this point? I¡¯m not afraid of him." The words came out strong and confident, but internally, I knew the situation was far from resolved. Samuel wasn¡¯t the type to let things go, especially when his pride had been wounded so publicly.

 Chapter 61: What She Didnâ€™t Say

    <h4>Chapter 61: What She Didn¡¯t Say</h4>

    I had specificallye to have lunch with William today, and after chatting with Catherine for a while, I got up to find William.

    Ever since sending Marcus back to Europe, I had been afraid to face William. After all, Marcus left because of my rejection.

    The rain outside had stopped, and William wasn¡¯t in the living room but in the garden outside.

    "Annie!" His face lit up with genuine warmth as he waved me over. "Perfect timing. Come,e. I have something fascinating to show you."

    Relief washed over me at his weing tone. I noticed an elegant birdcage on the stone table. Inside perched a sleek gray bird with a vibrant red tail, watching me with an intelligence that was almost unsettling.

    "William, what kind of bird is this?" I asked, leaning closer to examine the creature. Its dark eyes followed my movement with eerie focus. "It looks remarkably... aware."

    William¡¯sughter filled the room, a deep, genuine sound that had always made me feel at home. "This is an African Grey parrot. His name is Einstein, and he¡¯s quite the genius." He beamed with the pride of a new parent. "Watch this."

    Just as I was wondering what was so special about this particr bird, it suddenly opened its beak and spoke in a clear, oddly British ent: "All style, no substance!"

    I jerked back in shock, nearly toppling the nearby side table. "William! Did that bird just insult me?" My voice rose in both outrage and amazement.

    "It-it¡¯s actually talking!"

    William¡¯s shoulders shook with mirth.

    "What do you think, Annie?

    Impressive, isn¡¯t he? I traded him from Joseph¡¯s grandfather for a bottle of my best Scotch and quite a bit of begging."

    He reached out to gently stroke the bird¡¯s head with one finger. "Joseph¡¯s grandfather trained him personally."

    "That exins the attitude," I said, eyeing the bird with newfound respect.

    "These insults are definitely Joseph¡¯s grandfather¡¯s style." I wiggled my fingers at the cage yfully. "Hey there, Einstein. Got anypliments in that repertoire of yours, or is it all criticism?"

    The parrot tilted its head, seeming to consider me for a moment before squawking: "Faker, faker!"

    I gasped in mock offense, cing a hand over my heart. "Excuse me? You mouthy little bird!" But I couldn¡¯t suppress my smile.

    "Troublemaker, troublemaker!"

    Einstein continued, bobbing his head up and down with obvious delight at having captured my full attention.

    "Featherbrain, featherbrain!" I retorted, leaning toward the cage with hands on my hips.

    To my satisfaction, the parrot appeared genuinely affronted. It fluffed its feathers and hopped to the other side of its perch, finally turning its back to me with what could only be described as avian disgust.

    I looked up at William with sudden concern. "Oh no, I didn¡¯t actually hurt his feelings, did I?"

    William was practically wiping tears from his eyes. "Einstein has never been bested in a battle of wits before.

    He usually has thest word with everyone. He met his match today!" His eyes crinkled with genuine affection as he regarded me.

    Something in his gaze-that same warmth, that same eptance I¡¯d always found in the Murphy home¡ª made my throat tighten with emotion.

    William wasn¡¯t just being polite; he was deliberately showing me that nothing had changed between us, that Marcus¡¯s departure hadn¡¯t altered my standing in his eyes.

    "William," I said softly, unable to keep the emotion from my voice, "you¡¯re too good to me."

    He waved away my words with a gentle dismissal. "Nonsense. You¡¯re family, Annie. That doesn¡¯t change with theings and goings of anyone, not even my son."

    I swallowed hard, unexpectedly moved by his simple deration. Before I could respond, the door opened, and the butler entered carrying a tablet.

    "Mr. Murphy, I apologize for the interruption," he said with a slight bow. "There¡¯s a video call. Mr. Marcus Murphy is on the line."

    Anna¡¯s POV

    William¡¯s face lit up instantly. "Perfect timing! Bring it here, please."

    The butler handed him the tablet and discreetly withdrew. William adjusted his position on the bench, patting the seat beside him. "Come sit, Annie.

    Let¡¯s see what my wayward son is up to."

    I hesitated, suddenly feeling like an intruder. "Maybe I should give you some privacy? I can wait inside"

    "Nonsense," William interrupted, already tapping the screen to ept the call. "Marcus would want to see you too."

    Before I could protest further, the screen fickered to life, revealing Marcus sitting in what appeared to be a luxurious hotel room. His hair was damp, and he wore only a ck silk robe loosely tied at the waist. He¡¯d clearly just stepped out of the shower.

    "Marcus!" William¡¯s voice boomed with delight. "Finally remembering your poor old father, are you?

    Marcus¡¯s expression remained impassive, though I detected a subtle softening around his eyes. "Father.

    You look well."

    "And you look like you¡¯re working yourself to death again," William replied, his tone half-joking, half-concerned. "When was thest time you had a proper sleep?"

    Marcus nced down, adjusting something off-screen. "Just signed a major contract. The negotiations took longer than expected."

    I tried to shrink back out of the camera¡¯s view, but William suddenly angled the tablet to include me. "Look who¡¯s here with me, Marcus! Annie came to visit."

    "Hello, Uncle Marcus," I finally said, actually inquiring about his injury.

    "How are you?"

    Marcus¡¯s gaze locked onto mine through the screen, his dark eyes unreadable. The silence stretched bing ufortably taut.

    "Marcus," William prompted, a hint of reprimand in his voice. "Annie asked how you are."

    "Fine," Marcus replied curtly, understanding the true meaning behind my words, his gaze still fixed on me. "And you?"

    "I¡¯m well too, thank you," I answered.

    Marcus nodded once, his expression unchanged. Then, without warning, he asked: "What about that trending topic? The one with you and Griffin."

    I felt my cheeks flush with heat.

    "You. know about that?"

    William seemed to sense the tension, rising abruptly to his feet. "You know what? I think Einstein needs some fresh air. I¡¯ll take him for a little walk around the garden." He picked up the birdcage, already moving toward the path. "Annie, you and Marcus catch up. I¡¯ll be back in a bit."

    "Scoundrel! Scoundrel!" Einstein squawked indignantly, pping his wings in protest at being moved.

    Marcus¡¯s brow furrowed as he leaned closer to the screen. "What is that?"

    "A parrot," I exined quickly.

    "Hmm," was all Marcus said in response.

    Once William was out of earshot, Marcus¡¯s full attention returned to me, his gaze intensifying. "Tell me about the news report. What happened?"

    I shifted ufortably, deciding to give him a simplified version.

    "It¡¯s nothing serious," I said with a dismissive wave. "Lucy Taylor took some photos of me helping Samuel to the hospital when he¡¯d had too much to drink. The angles were deliberately misleading- made it look like something romantic was happening." I forced augh. "You know how these things go. It¡¯ll blow over in a day or two."

    Marcus¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly. "And Griffin? He¡¯s no longer causing trouble for you?"

    I nodded quickly-too quickly.

    "Actually, he owes me a favor now. I helped him out of a... difficult situation. He won¡¯t be a problem anymore."

    *Please don¡¯t ask for details*, I silently begged.

    "Thank you for your concern, Uncle Marcus," I added softly. "I really am fine. You don¡¯t need to worry about me."

    "I¡¯m worried about you?" he asked, his tone so cold it made me flinch.

    I stared at him,pletely caught off guard by the abrupt shift.

    "I-I should go," I stammered, desperate to end this increasingly ufortable conversation. "It¡¯s gettingte, and you must be tired after your negotiations. You should rest."

    I barely waited for his response before reaching over to end the call. The screen went ck, and I slumped back against the bench, exhaling a breath I hadn¡¯t realized I was holding.

    My heart was still racing, my palms slightly damp with nervous sweat.

    *Dating someone like that would require nerves of steel*, I thought wryly. *It would be more stressful than outwitting Samuel Griffin.* Catherine was always joking about me bing her aunt by marrying Marcus, but the very thought made me shudder.

    Marcus¡¯s POV

    I rubbed my tired eyes as the screen before me went dark. Recent events had left me restless, especially everything concerning Anna Shaw.

    A knock interrupted my thoughts.

    Peter Reed entered with a grave expression.

    "Sir, we¡¯ve obtained the security footage. Lucy Taylor did indeed take those photos," he paused l, carefully choosing his words, "but I found something else. Samuel Griffin¡¯s behaviorst night was very strange."

    My hand froze on the desk, rm bells ringing in my mind. Anna¡¯s words from ourst conversation suddenly echoed-she had lied to me.

    "What exactly happened?" My voice was noticeably deeper than usual, tension evident even to my own ears.

    Peter quickly operated theputer, bringing up the surveince footage for me to view.

    "Look, sir. Griffin doesn¡¯t appear to be merely intoxicated," Peter pointed out.

    In the footage, Samuel behaved erratically, tugging at his shirt while stumbling into a private lounge.

    Minutester, Anna passed by the door and was suddenly pulled inside.

    My heart sank instantly, my hands unconsciously clenching into fists, nails digging deep into my palms. I felt no pain¡ªonly a burning rage mixed with profound concern as horrific scenarios shed through my mind.

    Peter, noticing my change in demeanor, quickly added: "Don¡¯t worry, sir. Miss Shaw appears unharmed. They emerged shortly after."

    The video fast-forwarded to show Anna cautiously peering out, checking for onlookers before helping Samuel leave.

    "The final footage shows Griffin entering Miss Shaw¡¯s car-likely heading to a hospital. I¡¯m certain Griffin was drugged," Peter exined.

    "Drugged?" My frown deepened, expression darker than before. This girl was truly bold, risking herself to take Samuel to a hospital? Didn¡¯t she realize how dangerous it could be if Samuel acted on his drug-induced impulses? I couldn¡¯t bear to follow that train of thought.

    I took a deep breath, struggling to control my emotions. "Can we determine who administered the drug?"

    "Investigation overseas presents challenges, but knowing Griffin¡¯s character, he won¡¯t let such humiliation slide. Ive arranged surveince on his movements," Peter replied.

    I nodded. "Good."

    Seeing I had no further instructions, Peter exited the office.

    Alone in my office, my thoughts churned. Why had Anna lied to me?

    Was she worried I¡¯d be concerned, or was there another reason? If Samuel was indeed drugged, the situation might be moreplex than I imagined. I needed to verify certain things personally.

    Night had deepened, but my thoughts only grew clearer. I had made my decision.

 Chapter 62: Betting on Anna

    <h4>Chapter 62: Betting on Anna</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Flowers. Goddamn too many flowers.

    My office had transformed into some botanical nightmare overnight. Roses, lilies, orchids expensive arrangements with cards attached from men whose names I barely recognized from Skyview City¡¯s social circuit. The scent was overwhelming, cloying sweetness that made my stomach turn.

    "Ms. Shaw, another delivery just arrived," Rachel announced, her usualposure visibly tinged with disgust.

    "This makes seventeen today."

    I exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of my nose as I stared at thetest monstrosity¡ªan ostentatious arrangement of white roses and gold-painted leaves. The apanying card offered to gift me a sports car, asking only for one night with me in return.

    I felt nauseated. The online rumors about Samuel and me had unleashed a feeding frenzy. Apparently, Skyview City¡¯s bachelors saw me as some prize to be imed¡ªa business asset with a conveniently attractive package.

    "Get rid of them," I said, my voice sharp as a de. "All of them. Please tell my assistant to stop epting any deliveries."

    Hourster, my phone vibrated on the desk. Catherine¡¯s name shed on the screen. I picked up, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder as I continued typing.

    "Catherine? What¡¯s up?"

    The response was a garbled mixture of slurred words and what sounded like ss clinking.

    "Annie... need you..." Her words were nearly unintelligible.

    I sat up straight, my full attention now on the call. "Catherine? Are you okay?

    Where exactly are you?"

    "Olympus Club...e quickly...

    " The line went dead.

    "Rachel!" I called, already grabbing my purse and coat. "We need to go to Olympus Club. Catherine¡¯s¡ª"

    Just as I stepped through the doors of Olympus Club, I heard Catherine¡¯s voice-louder and more belligerent than I¡¯d ever heard it.

    "You pathetic excuses for men! Who the hell do you think you are?"

    I followed themotion to the far corner, where Catherine stood swaying slightly, pointing an using finger at a group of well-dressed men seated around a table. Champagne bottles and sses littered the surface. I recognized one of the men as someone who had sent me flowers and invited me to dinner.

    Catherine¡¯s eyes were bright with fury, her clothes slightly disheveled. When she spotted me, her face lit up. "Annie!

    There she is! The woman you¡¯re all betting on like she¡¯s a racehorse!"

    My blood ran cold. Betting?

    I approached slowly, Rachel following close behind. The men shifted ufortably, several unable to meet my gaze.

    "What¡¯s going on here?" I asked, my voice deliberately calm.

    "Oh, Annie," Catherineughed, a harsh sound devoid of humor. "These gentlemen have been having the most fascinating discussion about you." She picked up a champagne flute, draining it before continuing. "Apparently, there¡¯s a betting pool. Who¡¯ll be the first to get Anna Shaw into bed.

    They¡¯ve even set odds."

    My expression remained unchanged, despite the disgust and rage flooding through me.

    "It¡¯s just a bit of fun," one of them offered weakly. "Nothing serious-"

    Catherine pointed at him, her finger inches from his face: "LOOK IN THE MIRROR AND ASK YOURSELF IF YOU¡¯RE WORTHY OF ANNA! You¡¯re not even good enough to shine her shoes!"

    The man¡¯s face reddened with anger.

    "Catherine, you crazy woman. If it weren¡¯t for your father¡¯s position, l¡¯a have pped you already."

    In one fluid motion, Catherine climbed onto the table, champagne bottle in hand. "Try it, asshole! I dare you! I promise I won¡¯t go crying to Daddy."

    The men nced nervously at each other, aware of the scene they were creating. The surrounding area had gone quiet, other patrons watching with undisguised interest.

    Catherine swung the champagne bottle wildly, pointing it at each man in turn.

    "Listen up, everyone. Anyone who thinks they¡¯re going to pursue Anna has to go through me first."

    To emphasize her point, she smashed the bottle against the edge of the table, sending ss and champagne spraying. Several men jumped back, their expensive suits now stained.

    "Catherine," I said quietly, taking her arm. "Let¡¯s go."

    She allowed me to guide her down from the table, though her eyes never left the group of men. "Remember what I said," she snarled at them.

    Rachel helped me maneuver Catherine into the back seat of my car. She copsed against the leather, her head rolling back as the adrenaline seemed to drain out of her.

    "Those vultures," she muttered, eyes half-closed. "Circling around you like you¡¯re some kind of prize."

    I arranged her morefortably, gently moving her head to rest on my shoulder.

    Before the driver could pull away, I rolled down my window and leveled onest cold stare at the group of men who had followed us outside. "Even your fathers show me respect when we meet. Who do you think you are?"

    As we pulled away from the curb, Rachel spoke from the front seat, her voice low with concern. "Ms. Shaw, something doesn¡¯t feel right about this.

    It feels... orchestrated."

    I nodded, absently stroking Catherine¡¯s hair as she drifted off to sleep against my shoulder. "Find out who organized this betting pool. Whoever¡¯s behind it will lead us to our answer."

    Rachel nodded, already tapping notes into her phone.

    I turned my gaze out the window, watching the glittering skyline of Skyview City pass by. The city I¡¯d fought so hard to im a ce in now felt hostile, full of predators waiting for me to show weakness.

    My thoughts drifted to my father.

    Would these men have dared to disrespect me this way if he were still alive? Since his death, I¡¯d fought an uphill battle to maintain that respect, to prove I was more than just a pretty ceholder.

    At least my mother and grandmother remained insted from the ugliness.

    Later that night, as I was finally settling into bed, my phone lit up with a text from my contact in Sapphire Sky Hotel Room 3303.

    [Avable?)

    Despite my exhaustion and lingering anger, I felt a flicker of interest.

    [Yes) I replied simply.

    The hallway of Sapphire Sky Hotel¡¯s exclusive top floor was quiet as I made my way to Room 3303. I knocked once, and the door opened immediately.

    The suite was dimly lit, with just enough light to make out the familiar silhouette of my anonymous partner.

    As I stepped inside, he moved toward me, his hand gently cupping my face as he leaned in, pressing his forehead against mine in a surprisingly intimate gesture.

    I pulled back, ufortable with the tenderness. "Skip the romance," I said coldly. "That¡¯s not what this is about."

    I kept my emotions carefullypartmentalized as I reached for his shirt buttons. This was just physical-a transaction of pleasure, nothing more. No different from a vigorous workout session to release endorphins.

    As his hands moved over my body with practiced skill, I allowed myself to drift into sensation, letting the stress and humiliation of the day dissolve into something simpler, more primal.

 Chapter 63: Back in Skyview

    <h4>Chapter 63: Back in Skyview</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I stood my ground despite the way his body had me pinned against the wall.

    The dim lighting of the hallway cast half his face in shadow, making him look like a stranger rather than the man I¡¯d once promised to love forever.

    "Jack, you¡¯re drunk," I said tly. "Step back."

    His brows furrowed into a deep V-shape as he studied my face. "What happened to you? You used to be this sensitive, vulnerable girl. Always carefully watching everything around you like a little mouse. You¡¯re so much like Lucy, actually. Why are you being so cruel to her?"

    I inwardly scoffed. *You¡¯re the mouse, your whole family are mice.* He was clearly parroting Lucy¡¯s performance.

    Right on cue, Jackunched into a description of her pitiful circumstances.

    "There¡¯s nothing there, Anna. The house is practically falling apart. The weeds in the yard are taller than a person. They had to buy new bedding when they arrived because there was nothing left. Do you know how¡ª"

    The anger inside me ignited instantly.

    I cut him off coldly: "You can buy her a house there. A mansion. Hire a bunch of maids to wait on her.

    Whatever you want."

    Jack froze, clearly stunned by my response.

    I shoved him away and straightened my wrinkled clothes, a sardonic smile ying on my lips. "If you¡¯re so heartbroken about her situation, why don¡¯t you just marry her? Once she bes Mrs. Simpson, I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll have no reason to hold a grudge against me anymore."

    Jack panicked, rushing to exin:

    "Annie, that¡¯s not what I meant. I¡¯m not going to marry Lucy."

    "Really? Well, that¡¯s your business, not mine." I smiled, but inside I was thinking: *Is this strange man really the one I was so desperate to marry back then?* My heart ached with disappointment. The man I once loved so deeply now felt like aplete Stranger.

    I turned and walked away, rounding a corner only to encounter another confrontation. Nora Price, her face deathly pale, was pinned against the wall with Sawyer Walker¡¯s hand around her throat. I hesitated, caught in an awkward position-I¡¯d have to pass directly by them to return to the party.

    The atmosphere between them was suffocating, with Sawyer clearly the aggressor. Tears rolled down Nora¡¯s cheeks one after another. I hadn¡¯t paid her much attention before, only noting that she was beautiful with an inherent elegance about her. Despite knowing her history, I didn¡¯t dislike her.

    Sawyer spoke through gritted teeth: "How dare you? Parading your new lover right in front of me. How dare you?"

    Nora, barely able to breathe in his grip, rasped: "Not a lover... a sponsor."

    "Nora!" Sawyer¡¯s grip visibly tightened, clearly triggered by her response.

    She started coughing painfully but didn¡¯t beg for mercy.

    I couldn¡¯t stand by any longer. "You¡¯re going to choke her to death," I said firmly.

    Sawyer turned to look at me, his eyes cold as a winterke. The intensity of his re made me shiver internally. If I weren¡¯t naturally brave, I might have fled immediately.

    With cold detachment, Sawyer released his grip and strode away as if nothing had happened.

    Nora clutched her throat, coughing violently. I moved to her side, patting her back as she struggled to catch her breath. "Are you okay?" I asked with genuine concern.

    She nodded, her voice barely audible: "I¡¯m... fine." As she nodded, several crystalline tears were flung from hershes.

    After a long moment, her coughing subsided. She offered an embarrassed smile. "Thank you, Ms. Shaw. I¡¯m better now."

    I examined her neck, noticing the red marks forming, and removed my wrap. "Put this on. It will cover the marks."

    Nora touched her throat gingerly, still in pain. She looked at me with disbelief in her eyes. I understood her confusion¡ªwe weren¡¯t friends, barely even acquaintances.

    "No need, I¡¯ll be fine," she declined.

    Not bothering to argue, I simply draped the wrap around her shoulders. My white cape-style wrap had a high cor and matched well enough with her mermaid gown.

    Nora¡¯s eyes glistened with unshed tears and gratitude. I knew how other women viewed her, mocking and insulting her behind her back. While people might gossip about me too, every woman in Skyview City secretly admired and envied me. Nora and I couldn¡¯t be more different in social standing.

    She fastened the top button, the cor perfectly concealing the red marks on her neck.

    "Not bad. It actually looks good," I remarked, checking my watch. "If you¡¯re not up to it, you should leave. I can exin to Samuel for you."

    Nora took a deep breath, fighting back tears as she smiled. "Thank you, Ms. Shaw. I¡¯ll wash the wrap and return it to youter."

    "Don¡¯t mention it." Just then, Rachel appeared, havinge looking for me.

    I asked her to escort Nora out.

    Turning around, I discovered Samuel leaning against the wall, watching me.

    From his stance, he¡¯d been observing for some time.

    "Samuel certainly enjoys watching drama unfold," I said with a cold smile. "Even when his date is being mistreated."

    Samuel shrugged. "I was about to intervene, but someone beat me to it. I didn¡¯t want to interfere with your show of solidarity."

    I didn¡¯t bother responding. Since he¡¯d witnessed everything, there was no need to exin Nora¡¯s departure.

    Joseph arrived fashionablyte intentionally, I suspected, to avoid stealing Sawyer¡¯s spotlight and to dodge the inevitable marriage questions from family members.

    When he was finally alone, I approached to thank him.

    "Oh? You¡¯re saying I reported Tranquil Hospital?" Joseph feigned surprise.

    "What a coincidence! I just couldn¡¯t stand those people making money through dishonest means. Pure generosity on my part, not for your benefit at all."

    I smiled knowingly. "Is that so?

    Actually, I wasn¡¯t going to thank you¡ª I wanted to thank Marcus."

    Joseph rolled his eyes dramatically.

    "You never miss a trick, do you? What does Marcus even see in you?"

    I was momentarily speechless-that was a question I genuinely couldn¡¯t answer.

    After the g ended, my phone buzzed with a message. It was from the mysterious man from Sapphire Sky Hotel Room 3303 at Sapphire Sky Hotel. The message contained just two words.

    (Come over.)

    Marcus¡¯s POV

    The jetg hit me harder than expected. Fourteen hours of flying across the Antic, and all I could think about was her. I¡¯d barely allowed myself enough time to drop my luggage at the private suite I kept in Skyview City before jumping into the shower.

    Water cascaded down my back, washing away the travel fatigue but doing nothing for the tension that had been building in me for days. The thought of seeing Anna again made my heart race in a way that felt foreign.

    Steam filled the bathroom as I stepped out, wrapping a towel around my waist. Droplets of water still clung to my skin as I reached for my phone, typing out a message with uncharacteristic hesitation.

    [Come over.]

    Simple, direct-my usual style. I set the phone down and dressed quickly, choosingfort over formality. No need for the suits I typically wore as armor. Not tonight.

    The phone vibrated against the ss tabletop. I picked it up, expecting to see her agreement, perhaps with some sarcasticment attached.

    [Tired. Can¡¯t make it.]

    Five words. Just five simple words, yet they felt like a bucket of ice water. I stared at the screen, my jaw tightening involuntarily. Was she genuinely exhausted? Or making excuses?

    I exhaled slowly, setting the phone down with more force than necessary.

    A knock at the door interrupted my spiraling thoughts.

    "Sir, is everything alright?" Peter¡¯s voice carried through the door, concern evident in his tone.

    "Fine," I answered, the word clipped. A pause. "We¡¯re going to Joseph¡¯s."

    I opened the door to find Peter standing at attention, his expression careful and controlled. "Now, sir?"

    "Yes, now." I grabbed my jacket, slipping it on with practiced ease. "I need to discuss something with him."

    Peter nodded once, already reaching for his phone to arrange the car.

    The drive continued in silence, the purr of the luxury engine a calming backdrop to my thoughts. By the time we pulled up to Joseph¡¯s mansion on the outskirts of the city, I¡¯dposed myself.

    Joseph¡¯s house was dark, which didn¡¯t surprise me. He was likely still out¡ª probably at some club, surrounded by beautiful women and expensive alcohol. The security system recognized me, automatically disabling itself as I approached the front door.

    The spare key Joseph had given me fit perfectly, turning with a soft click.

    I stepped into the darkness, not bothering with the lights. I knew this house well enough to navigate it blindly. Making my way to the living room, I settled into one of the oversized armchairs and waited.

    The front door swung open, and the lights flicked on, flooding the room with sudden brightness.

    "HOLY SHIT!" Joseph nearly jumped out of his skin, his hand clutching his chest dramatically. "What the actual fuck, Marcus? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

    I remained seated, watching as Joseph¡¯s initial shock gave way to irritation. He was clearly intoxicated, his movements slightly uncoordinated as he kicked the door shut behind him.

    "You have a private jet, congrattions. You own half the flight paths to Europe, impressive. But must you appear in my house like some kind of ghost every other week?" He staggered to the bar cart, pouring himself another drink despite clearly having had enough already. "Seriously, is this the power of love or just your dick taking over your brain?"

    "Keep this visit between us," I said, ignoring his crude remarks. "I¡¯m flying back tomorrow."

    Joseph rolled his eyes so dramatically I was concerned they might get stuck. "Oh, sure, because I was definitely nning to announce it to the entire Murphy n. ¡¯Guess what, everyone?

    Marcus is back again, pining like a lovesick teenager!¡¯" He flopped onto the sofa across from me, drink sloshing dangerously. "Who am I going to tell? And more importantly, who would believe the great Marcus Murphy is secretly flying back and forth across the Antic for a woman?"

    He had a point, though I¡¯d never admit it aloud.

    "By the way," Joseph continued, a smirk ying at his lips, "your little girlfriend is quite impressive. Putting George Simpson in his ce like that?

    Brilliant."

    A surge of pride swelled in my chest at his words. Anna had indeed handled the Simpson family masterfully. "She¡¯s smarter than you," I replied, allowing myself a small, satisfied smile.

    ...You perverted man," Joseph muttered I, clearly offended by theparison.

    I wasn¡¯t in the mood for his antics.

    "What about the matter I asked you to handle?"

    Joseph¡¯s expression sobered slightly, a hint of his business acumen showing through the alcoholic haze. "With enough money, anything is possible.

    You can rest assured..."

    I nodded, satisfied. "I¡¯ll be staying here tonight."

    Joseph¡¯s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

    "What? Why? You have your own ce."

    I didn¡¯t borate. My suite in Skyview City was maintained by staff who reported to my father. If I stayed there, word would inevitably reach the Murphy household that I was back.

    "We¡¯ll visit the construction site tomorrow," I stated, rising from the chair and heading toward the guest room I¡¯d used on previous visits. "You should get some sleep."

    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and

    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 64: Hidden Truths

    <h4>Chapter 64: Hidden Truths</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Ten days of back-to-back meetings had left me bone-weary, my body desperate for rest but my mind still racing with business strategies and unresolved issues. The familiar gates of Shaw Estate appeared through the car window, and I felt my shoulders rx slightly at the sight of home.

    "Ms. Shaw, your mother asked to be notified of your arrival," Rachel said, looking up from her tablet. "She mentioned having some matters to discuss with you."

    I nodded, massaging my temples to ease the tension headache that had been my constantpanion for the past three days. "Tell her I¡¯ll see her after I¡¯ve had a bath."

    The hallway was quiet as I walked in, heels clicking against marble floors that gleamed under soft lighting. I dropped my bags at the foot of the stairs, already unbuttoning my zer as I headed toward my suite.

    An hourter, submerged in my oversized bathtub filled with steaming water and essential oils, I finally felt the knots in my muscles begin to loosen. The lingering scent ofvender and rose enveloped me, soothing my frayed nerves.

    "These came while you were away," Elizabeth said, entering the bathroom with a stack of envelopes in her hands.

    "Quite a few invitations." She set them on the marble countertop beside the tub, her movements graceful as always.

    "Thank you, Mother." I reached for a towel to dry my hands before picking up the first envelope.

    Elizabeth perched on the edge of a nearby vanity stool. "How was your trip? Productive, I hope?"

    "Exhausting but necessary." I thumbed through the stack until a particr embossed envelope caught my eye heavy cream cardstock with gold lettering. *Samuel Griffin*. I raised an eyebrow. "What could he possibly want?"

    Rachel, who had been organizing my clothes for tomorrow, nced over.

    "Perhaps he wants to thank you for helping Nora at the Walker event?"

    I let out a dryugh, setting the invitation aside on the ledge. "Samuel Griffin doesn¡¯t do gratitude. Nora is just his date, not his girlfriend."

    ---

    On that day, I went to the

    appointment, and sure enough, I didn¡¯t see Nora.

    Espresso Lane, one of Shaw Corp¡¯s high-end coffee shops in the financial district, was busy as usual with the afternoon crowd. The establishment was known for its artisanal coffee blends and discrete private meeting rooms that catered to Skyview City¡¯s business elite. As I walked through the main caf¨¦ area, the manager spotted me and hurried over, his face a picture of barely contained panic.

    "Ms. Shaw! We weren¡¯t expecting you today. If I¡¯d known you wereing, I would have_"

    "Rx," I said calmly. "I¡¯m just here to meet someone."

    The relief on his face was almostical. "Of course, of course. Right this way to our best private room."

    Rachel stepped in smoothly. "Ms. Shaw is here on private business, not to inspect operations. Please continue as normal."

    The private room was immacte rich mahogany tables, plush leather chairs, and a wall of windows overlooking the bustling financial district. Samuel Griffin sat with his back to the door, examining a bottle of wine he must have brought himself with exaggerated interest.

    "The documents are on the table, Ms. Shaw," he said without turning around. "Feel free to have a look."

    I approached the table cautiously, curious but wary. What I found left me momentarily speechless¡ªa business contract, and not just any contract. The proposal outlined was remarkably simr to the one I¡¯d presented to Samuel months ago regarding potential development in Skke District.

    *What game is he ying?* I wondered, trying to maintain myposure despite my racing heart.

    "Mr. Griffin," I finally said, "what exactly is this supposed to mean?"

    Samuel set down the wine bottle and turned to face me, his expression unreadable. "I would think it¡¯s obvious. I¡¯m proposing a business partnership with Shaw Corp."

    I remained standing, hands resting lightly on the back of my chair.

    "Forgive my skepticism, but from what I understand, you¡¯ve been in talks with Simpson Group recently."

    The corners of his mouth twitched with suppressed amusement. "So I have."

    "Then why the sudden interest in working with Shaw Corp? Heritage Group has never considered us worthy of notice before." I kept my voice level, professional. "A partnership between Heritage and Simpson would make more sense-two powerhouses joining forces. Coming to me now seems... suspicious at best."

    Samuel¡¯sughter filled the room, sharp and mocking. "My God, is Anna Shaw actually afraid? The woman who took on the Simpson family without flinching is suddenly cautious? Am I really so terrifying that you¡¯re backing away from a lucrative offer?"

    I sat down with deliberate calm, pouring us each a ss of water. "My situation with the Simpson family isplicated. And to be perfectly honest, the only reason I dared challenge them was because I had William Murphy¡¯s influence behind me." I met his gaze directly. "So yes, Mr. Griffin, I am cautious about antagonizing you."

    Something shifted in Samuel¡¯s expression-surprise, perhaps, at my candor. He studied me for a long moment, and I held his gaze steadily, refusing to show any sign of intimidation.

    "Well, well," he finally said, "Shaw is more straightforward than I expected.

    I was too abrupt earlier. Let¡¯s start over." He lifted his champagne flute. "To new beginnings?"

    I couldn¡¯t help but smile slightly at his sudden attempt at civility. "I¡¯ll drink to that, Mr. Griffin." Our sses clinked, the sound crystalline in the quiet

    room.

    Samuel set down his ss, his demeanor shifting to something more serious. "Remember when I mentioned suspecting someone was manipting events behind the scenes? I¡¯ve had George Simpson thoroughly investigated."

    "I doubt it¡¯s him," I said, shaking my head.

    "Of course it¡¯s not," Samuel agreed readily. "I was assessing whether he¡¯d be worth partnering with. After thorough evaluation, I¡¯ve concluded that George Simpson¡¯s moral character is questionable at best. I have no interest in working with him."

    I remained silent, unsure how to respond to such a blunt assessment.

    "Something interesting surfaced during my investigation," Samuel continued, watching me closely. "Did you know that George Simpson once proposed to Elizabeth Shaw? Isn¡¯t it ironic that your familiester became connected through marriage anyway? Doesn¡¯t that strike you as awkward?"

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "My *mother*?" I nearly jumped from my chair, shock coursing through me.

    "That¡¯s impossible. I¡¯ve never heard about this-not from my mother, not from anyone." My mind raced. "This can¡¯t be true. My mother and Mary Simpson have always despised each other. If George had pursued my mother, Mary would have made our lives even more miserable."

    Samuel¡¯s smile held a hint of satisfaction at my reaction. "Don¡¯t believe me? That¡¯s fine. I find it rather strange myself. Very few people know about it. Apparently, George¡¯s family had business connections with your maternal grandfather¡¯s family. Your grandfather¡¯s family was quite prestigious in Skyview City, while George came from a small town in the outskirts. In today¡¯s terms, he was social climbing. Look at how he eventually married into the Murphy family-clearly seeking powerful connections. Your grandfather likely saw through his intentions and refused, which is why your mother probably never heard about it."

    I fell silent, processing this revtion. I knew very little about George¡¯s early years, only that the Simpson family¡¯s current sess owed much to William Murphy¡¯s support-which was partly why I¡¯d been considered an eptable match for Jack.

    "Regardless," Samuel continued, "my reluctance to partner with Simpson Group stems primarily from George¡¯s untrustworthiness. He¡¯s too calcting,

    too ambitious. I refuse to be his stepping stone." He raised his ss to me again. "I find your sincerity valuable, Ms. Shaw. I misjudged you before."

    I suppressed a wry smile. Even his self-deprecation came with barbs.

    "The Skke District paperwork isn¡¯t finalized yet," I said carefully. "There¡¯s no need to rush, Mr. Griffin. Perhaps there are better partners for you out there."

    Samuel looked directly into my eyes.

    "Don¡¯t you want to identify the puppet master working against us?"

    His words struck home. This person¡ª whoever they were-might cost others the Skke District project, but for me, my grandmother¡¯s family¡¯s historic building was at stake.

    "Or," Samuel suggested, his eyes gleaming with cunning, "we could stage a performance and see if we can draw them out."

    My heart beat faster at the proposition.

    I needed to do something-and Samuel had resources Icked.

    "What kind of performance did you have in mind?" I asked, leaning forward, ready to hear his n.

    "Very simple," Samuel had said with that infuriating self-assurance of his, leaning back in his chair like a cat that had just cornered its prey.

    I hadn¡¯t thought much of it at the time. Samuel Griffin¡¯s overconfidence was as much a part of him as his expensive suits and calcting smile.

    But within forty-eight hours, news of our partnership had spread through Skyview City¡¯s business circles like wildfire.

    The reactions varied widely. At the Heritage Group¡¯s charity cocktail, I overheard snippets of conversation that made my skin crawl.

    Those who actually knew me, however, responded with confusion rather than gossip.

    I understood their concern. Samuel¡¯s reputation for ruthlessness wasn¡¯t unearned. But sometimes in business, you needed someone willing to y dirty-especially when facing opponents like the Simpsons.

    The sunlight dappled through the ancient oak trees in the garden at Shaw Estate, creating shifting patterns on the stone pathway. I¡¯d escaped to the rtive sanctuary of the garden after Doris Porter had arrived to visit my mother. Logan had apanied his mother, and somehow we¡¯d ended up walking among the carefully tended flower beds while our mothers caught up inside.

    "Samuel Griffin is unpredictable, Anna," Logan said, his normally cheerful expression reced by something more serious. "You should keep your distance."

    I smiled, trying to lighten his mood.

    "His personality isn¡¯t my concern, Logan. I¡¯m looking for a business partner, not a date."

    I¡¯d known Logan Porter practically my entire life. He¡¯d been there for my skinned knees as a child and my broken heart as a teenager. His concern was touching, if unnecessary.

    "Besides," I continued, "it¡¯s a limited partnership. Once we acquire the Skke District property, we¡¯ll go our separate ways."

    Logan stopped walking, turning to face me directly. The sunlight caught in his sandy brown hair, giving him an almost golden halo. "Anna, I can help you."

    Iughed, more out of surprise than amusement. "Don¡¯t be ridiculous. The Porters have never been involved in real estate development."

    "I¡¯m serious." His voice had an intensity I rarely heard from him. "Just because we haven¡¯t been involved in real estate before doesn¡¯t mean we

    can¡¯t start now. Between our two families, we could take on the Simpsons."

    Myughter faded as I realized he meant every word. I studied his face, noting the determination in his eyes.

    "Logan, that¡¯s... that¡¯s a significant shift for your family¡¯s business interests."

    "Annie," he said, using my childhood nickname with a softness that caught me off guard, "I don¡¯t want to see you hurt again. Let me help you."

    His gaze held mine with unexpected intensity, and suddenly I saw something I¡¯d never noticed before-something warm and deep and unmistakably personal. My heart skipped a beat as the realization washed over me. This wasn¡¯t just friendly concern. Logan Porter, my childhood friend, my reliable confidant, harbored feelings for me that went far beyond friendship.

    Elizabeth¡¯s POV

    Doris Porter and I were huddled in the tea room of Shaw Estate, pretending to focus on our jasmine-scented brew while actually spying on the garden like a pair of teenage girls. Through the delicately pruned bonsai trees lining the window, I could see Anna and Logan Porter engaged in what appeared to be an intense conversation.

    I leaned closer to the window, squinting to better see my daughter¡¯s expression.

    "I might as well be honest with you," Doris said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "That matchmaking dinner was actually Logan¡¯s idea. He specifically asked me to arrange it." Her eyes sparkled with anticipation. "My eldest has had feelings for Annie since they were children."

    I nearly choked on my tea. My mind instantly shed back to Annie¡¯s childhoodints after returning from the Porter residence. "How is that

    possible? I distinctly remember Annie alwaysining that Logan was too harsh with her. I assumed he found her annoying."

    Doris waved her hand dismissively, wearing the knowing expression of someone who¡¯d witnessed this drama unfold for years. "That was just his awkward way of showing attention.

    The poor boy never knew how to express himself properly-always so stiff and ufortable."

    My lips twitched involuntarily. As a mother, I knew my daughter better than anyone. Annie had absolutely no romantic interest in Logan Porter. If anything, she was closer to Oscar, but even that rtionship was purely tonic. A knot of concern tightened in my chest.

    "He¡¯s not nning to confess to her now, is he?" I asked cautiously, my eyes darting back to the garden where the two stood beneath the dappled shade of an oak tree.

    Doris nodded eagerly,pletely missing my concern. "That¡¯s exactly his n. He said if he doesn¡¯t tell Annie how he feels, she¡¯ll never know." She patted my hand affectionately. "Let the young people sort it out themselves. Whether it works out depends on Logan¡¯s luck. Please tell Annie not to feel burdened¡ªif she likes him, wonderful; if not, that¡¯s fine too."

    Those words instantly lifted the weight from my shoulders. I exhaled deeply, relief washing through me like a cool breeze. My Annie had always been strong-willed and decisive. She would never force herself into a rtionship out of obligation. What had worried me most was how this might affect the long-standing friendship between our families, but hearing Doris¡¯s open-minded attitude put those fears to rest.

    "That¡¯s such a healthy perspective, Doris," I said sincerely, my anxiety finally subsiding. "You¡¯re right¡ªthey should make their own decisions."

 Chapter 65: Temptation

    <h4>Chapter 65: Temptation</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Logan¡¯s eyes held mine with that unexpected intensity, and suddenly the garden around us felt too small, the air between us charged with something I hadn¡¯t noticed in all our years of friendship.

    "Annie," he said, my childhood nickname sounding different in his voice now, "I don¡¯t want you

    partnering with someone like Samuel Griffin. Let me help you instead."

    I studied his expression, the earnestness in his gaze unmistakable.

    The realization hit me like a bucket of ice water-Logan Porter, my childhood friend and asional tormentor, had feelings for me. Romantic feelings.

    "Logan..." I started, unsure how to navigate this sudden shift in our dynamic.

    He took a step closer, sunlight filtering through the oak leaves dappling his sandy hair with gold. "I¡¯ve waited years to tell you this. I¡¯ve always-"

    "I¡¯m sorry, Logan," I interrupted, looking directly into his eyes with firm resolve. "But I can¡¯t return your feelings."

    He didn¡¯t seem surprised by my rejection, just disappointed. A bitter smile crossed his lips. "Because you¡¯ve always seen me as an older brother figure?"

    "Yes," I answered briefly, though my emotions churned inside. The simplicity of my response belied theplexity of what I was feeling¡ª shock, difort, and a strange sense of loss for a friendship that would never be the same again.

    "But I¡¯ve never seen you as a little sister," he lowered his gaze, his voice deep and restrained. "I waited for you to grow up. Finally, you turned eighteen, but then your father passed away. Watching you suffer through your father¡¯s death, seeing you struggling to keep Shaw Corp afloat¡ª it didn¡¯t seem appropriate to confess then."

    His words triggered a flood of memories-the chaos after my father¡¯s sudden death, the vultures circling Shaw Corp, the panic I¡¯d felt trying to keep everything from copsing. And Logan had been there, patiently teaching me how to run thepany, handle contracts, navigate business crises. For two entire years, he¡¯d provided unwavering support, and I¡¯d never suspected there might be something more behind it.

    "I thought I¡¯d wait until things stabilized, until you were firmly established at Shaw Corp," he continued. "I saw you every day, but then... I heard you excitedly telling Oscar how you had feelings for Jack Simpson."

    "I¡¯m sorry, Logan, but I still can¡¯t ept your feelings," I repeated, feeling I needed to be absolutely clear.

    He looked up at me, his eyes tender and emotional behind his sses. "Is it because of Jack Simpson?"

    I shook my head immediately. "No, that¡¯s over."

    "Then why?" he persisted, stepping closer. "I¡¯m not in a rush. We can develop our feelings gradually. You can start seeing me as a man pursuing you rather than just a friend." His smile was gentle, hopeful. "Annie, I¡¯m willing to wait until the day you ept me."

    Hearing him call me "Annie" made me involuntarily furrow my brow. An inexplicable aversion rose within me.

    With Jack, I would have immediately snapped back, but I couldn¡¯t bring myself to rebuke Logan directly. This was Logan-someone who had watched me grow up, who¡¯d held my hand at my father¡¯s funeral, who¡¯d taught me how to read financial statements when I was drowning in grief and responsibility.

    "Logan, I value our friendship too much to risk it on something I¡¯m not certain about," I said finally, hoping he would understand. "And right now,

    I¡¯m not looking for a rtionship with anyone."

    The disappointment in his eyes made my chest tighten with guilt, but I knew leading him on would only cause more painter.

    "I understand," he said quietly, though his expression suggested otherwise.

    "Just..... promise you¡¯ll think about it?"

    I couldn¡¯t even give him that. It wouldn¡¯t be fair. "Logan-"

    "Ms. Shaw, Mr. Porter," Rachel¡¯s voice cut through the tension as he appeared at the garden entrance. "Mrs. Shaw says tea is ready."

    I¡¯d never been so grateful for an interruption.

    Once Logan and his mother had departed, Elizabeth wasted no time.

    "Why don¡¯t you at least consider it?

    From any perspective, Logan is perfect for you," she suggested, watching me carefully as I helped her clear the tea service. "And Logan has never been married, and his family doesn¡¯t mind that you¡¯re divorced."

    I felt a wave of irritation but held my temper. "Whether they mind or not doesn¡¯t matter since I don¡¯t n to remarry anyway."

    The delicate teacup in my mother¡¯s hand froze midway. "You don¡¯t n to get married again?" Her voice rose in surprise, drawing my grandmother¡¯s attention from her book.

    I suppressed my frustration and tried to exin calmly: "What¡¯s so great about marriage? Having to adapt to a strange family, dealing with unfamiliar rtionships¡ªI don¡¯t have the time or energy to please others anymore."

    My mother¡¯s face fell, and I immediately felt a pang of regret for my harsh tone. She¡¯d only ever wanted me to be happy, to have the traditional markers of security and fulfillment.

    "So if you don¡¯t get married, you don¡¯t n to have children either?" Her expression grew stern, familiar worry lines appearing between her brows.

    There it was. The real concern. Not my happiness in marriage, but the continuation of the Shaw bloodline.

    Realizing my thoughts were too rebellious for this conversation, I could only answer diplomatically: "I didn¡¯t say I wouldn¡¯t have children. Having children is simple enough. Once I¡¯ve built up Shaw Corp, I¡¯ll have a child." I quickly moved forward to massage my mother¡¯s shoulders, feeling the tension in her muscles. "Come on, don¡¯t worry about me. I¡¯m still young-whether it¡¯s marriage or children, there¡¯s plenty of time."

    This time, Mom wasn¡¯t so easily cated. Her eyes immediately reddened, a sure sign that tears weren¡¯t far behind. "The Shaw and Elizabeth¡¯s family are down to just your bloodline now. If you don¡¯t continue the family legacy, how can I face your father and your grandfather?"

    Her words struck me like a physical blow. I¡¯d been so focused on rebuilding Shaw Corp, on settling scores with the Simpsons and establishing my independence, that I¡¯d pushed aside this fundamental responsibility. The weight of being thest Shaw suddenly felt crushing.

    I turned to look at my grandmother, hoping for her usual progressive support, but even she wore an expression of quiet concern.

    "It¡¯s not entirely about the family name," Margaret said softly, her voice carrying the wisdom of her years. "If we didn¡¯t have you, your mother and I would have followed your father long ago."

    The simple honesty in her statement made my throat tighten. I wasn¡¯t just the heir to Shaw Corp or thest carrier of the Shaw nameI was the

    reason they both continued to live and find joy after my father¡¯s death. In this moment, I truly realized the significance of continuing the bloodline. I had to seriously face this issue now.

    But marriage? The very thought made my skin crawl after the disaster with Jack.

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "I¡¯ll think about it," I promised, the words feeling heavy on my tongue.

    "Just... give me some time."

    That evening, I met Catherine Murphy and Jasmine Butler for dinner at a restaurant, needing the distraction of good food and betterpany. After discussing potential investments and market trends, Jasmine nced at her watch and began gathering her things.

    "Can¡¯t help it¡ªI have a child at home.

    That little emperor won¡¯t sleep unless I¡¯m there," she apologized, rolling her eyes with the fond exasperation only a mother could manage. "I can¡¯t stay and chat today, but once my parents return from their trip, I¡¯ll find another opportunity to hang out properly."

    Catherine waved dismissively, reaching for her wine ss. "Hurry home! No need for formalities with us¡ªyour childes first."

    As Jasmine departed, Catherine turned her perceptive gaze on me. "What are you thinking about? You¡¯ve been distracted all evening."

    "Children," I sighed, pouring myself another ss of wine beforeunching into the situation with my family.

    Catherine listened attentively, her expression thoughtful. When I finished, she reached across the table to squeeze my hand sympathetically.

    "I have to admit, you¡¯re dealing with the pressures that usually fall on both men and women, you poor thing. Running a corporation and expected to continue the family line? That¡¯s a hell of a burden."

    I nodded, grateful for her understanding. "I know they mean well, but..."

    "What¡¯s so difficult about it?" she continued, leaning back in her chair.

    "Men need women to continue their bloodline, but women who want children? That¡¯s something we can handle in a minute." A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. "What about my uncle Marcus? His physique, looks, intelligence-which one isn¡¯t top-tier? If you two had a child, you¡¯d be making an outstanding contribution to humanity."

    I nearly choked on my wine. "Your uncle? Catherine!"

    "What? He¡¯s not that old, and clearly interested in you."

    Heat rushed to my cheeks. "Forget about your uncle. I couldn¡¯t even bring myself to consider Sean Smith right now."

    Catherine also seemed to find this challenge perplexing. "So you don¡¯t want to get married but want to have children. Having a child without the father in the picture..." she tapped her manicured nails against the table thoughtfully. "Unless you find a sperm donor. But then you can¡¯t guarantee the quality-who knows what the looks, appearance, or intelligence level would be? What if there¡¯s a hereditary disease? Wouldn¡¯t that be worse?"

    "You could find high-quality donors overseas," Catherine suggested, "but having a mixed-race baby might concern your grandmother and mother."

    I wasn¡¯t actually in a rush, just worried that Grandmother and Mom would keep pressuring me about marriage. If I could have a child soon, maybe they¡¯d leave me alone about finding a husband.

    Suddenly, Catherine pped the table, her eyes wide with excitement. "I¡¯ve got it! You could borrow from that guy!"

    I blinked,pletely confused. "What guy?"

    Catherine¡¯s eyes suddenly sparked with mischief as she leaned across the table, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "What about that mystery man of yours? The one from Room 3303?"

    I nearly choked on my wine. "What about him?"

    "Well," she continued, her lips curving into a knowing smile, "you said he¡¯s tall, has a sexy voice, knows what he¡¯s doing in bed, and is obviously wealthy.

    Those are excellent qualifications for providing superior genes, don¡¯t you think?"

    My heart skipped a beat as the outrageous suggestion took root in my mind. The idea was absurd, yet strangelypelling. "That¡¯s... that¡¯spletely insane," I said, but my tonecked conviction.

    "Why not?" Catherine replied with absolute confidence. "You get pregnant, then make up some excuse to end things. He never has to know. You get your child, your grandmother and mother get their heir, and you live your life exactly how you want.

    Everyone wins."

    I stared into my wine ss, picturing my mother and grandmother cooing over a baby-their attention diverted from my marital status to a new generation. The knot in my chest loosened slightly at the thought. It was insane, hical even, but a small voice in my head whispered that it could work.

    "Look at Jasmine," Catherine continued, sensing my wavering resolve. "Have you seen her kid on social media? Is that child unhappy? I also know this male model who¡¯s a single father. He takes his kid everywhere, even to work. The boy¡¯s already a little model himself. They do runway shows together-they¡¯re not just dining partners, they¡¯re work partners. Even I¡¯m jealous."

    Each example she provided nted seeds of possibility in my mind, making this oundish idea seem increasingly reasonable.

    "We have money, connections, resources. If you have a baby, won¡¯t your mother and grandmother spoil them rotten?" Catherine¡¯s confident smile widened. "Life is about finding what works for you. Marriage? Take it or leave it. Children? Have them if you want."

    Relief washed over me as I contemted this new possibility. After we parted ways, I immediately texted the man from Room 3303: [Meet?]

    My heart hammered against my ribs as I waited for his response. Two minutes felt like two years. Finally, my phone buzzed: [One week.]

    One week-enough time to consider the gravity of my potential decision.

    Yet deep down, I was already anticipating this n that could change everything.

    ¡ª¡ª¡ª

    The next morning, Jack was waiting at the entrance to Shaw Corp, his expression a familiar mix of

    stubbornness and misunderstanding.

    Seeing him triggered an instant wave of irritation that rose like bile in my throat. I knew exactly what he wanted to discuss, and I had zero interest in hearing it.

    "Ms. Shaw, Mr. Simpson insists on speaking with you," Rachel informed me as our car pulled up to the entrance.

    I could see Jack¡¯s assistant Pax trying to approach, but Rachel smoothly intercepted him while escorting me toward the building.

    "Anna!" Jack called out, his voice carrying across the parking lot. "What do you think you¡¯re doing with Samuel Griffin?"

    I kept walking, my spine rigid with determination.

    "You can¡¯t trust him," Jack persisted, quickening his pace to catch up. "You have no idea what kind of man he really is."

    Something inside me snapped. I whirled around, facing him directly. "And you do? You, who couldn¡¯t see Lucy Taylor for what she was despite everyone warning you?"

    Jack stepped back as if I¡¯d physically struck him. "This isn¡¯t about Lucy.

    This is about you making dangerous business decisions."

    "No, Jack," I said, my voice deadly calm. "This is about you thinking you still have any right to an opinion about my life."

    His face flushed with anger. "I¡¯m trying to protect you."

    "I don¡¯t need your protection. I never did." I turned away, gesturing for Rachel to follow. "Go back to your mother. I¡¯m sure she has plenty of recement candidates lined up for Lucy."

    As we walked into the building, I heard him call after me, "Anna, you know what I feel for you hasn¡¯t changed!"

    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and

    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 66: The Wrong Matches

    <h4>Chapter 66: The Wrong Matches</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "If you like the first gentleman, you can simply meet the second one briefly," Elizabeth exined with self-satisfaction. "And if you don¡¯t like the first one, then you can focus on the second. It won¡¯t take too much of your time."

    I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, maintaining a polite smile that felt stered to my face. "I¡¯m really busy these days. I¡¯m still young. Is this really necessary right now?"

    My mother immediately patted my back, her touch gentle but insistent.

    "We¡¯re starting the search now because who knows how long it might take to find the right person? The more people you meet, the higher the probability of finding someone you like."

    A sense of futility washed over me.

    "There aren¡¯t more than these three, right?"

    "All of my card-ying friends say they want to introduce you to someone," my mother replied, dashing myst hope of escape.

    I felt cornered, trapped by these well-intentioned but suffocating expectations. The more they pushed, the more appealing Catherine¡¯s outrageous suggestion became.

    --

    The coffee shop was upscale and discreet, with soft jazz ying in the background and enough space between tables to ensure privacy. I¡¯d arrived early, positioning myself at a corner table that gave me a clear view of the entrance while allowing Rachel to sit nearby, close enough to intervene if necessary.

    Rachel ced a single rose on the table, the gesture making me wince internally. "Boss, with your qualifications, why do you need arranged dates? Is your mother that eager for grandchildren?"

    I sighed, scrolling through emails on my tablet to distract myself. "They¡¯re spooked. This phase will pass." But even as I said it, I knew it was wishful thinking. The weight of family expectation hung heavily around my neck, and Catherine¡¯s outrageous suggestion kept reying in my mind.

    The coffee shop door opened, and Rachel subtly nodded toward the entrance. I looked up to see a man in his mid-thirties scanning the room, a rose identical to mine clutched awkwardly in his hand.

    "I¡¯m so sorry I¡¯mte," he said as he approached, looking genuinely fustered. His tailored suit was slightly rumpled, suggesting he¡¯d rushed over from somewhere important.

    I nced at the time on my tablet and offered my well-practiced professional smile. "No problem, perfect timing."

    I couldn¡¯t help but notice how his eyes widened slightly upon seeing me up close. The subtle ego boost improved my mood somewhat. I had to admit, Mother¡¯s card-ying friends had at least found someone presentable. He was undeniably handsome-tall with sharp features and intelligent eyes-certainly pleasant enough to look at over coffee.

    Heunched into his well-rehearsed introduction, covering all the expected bases: Ivy League education, family background in finance, five-year career n. The conversation flowed easily enough, and I found myself almost enjoying the practiced dance of it all.

    But then came the inevitable turn.

    "My mother doesn¡¯t mind that you¡¯re divorced," he said with a smile that was probably meant to be reassuring butnded somewhere closer to condescending. "But she hopes that after marriage, our families could integrate resources. My father thinks Shaw Corp¡¯s property development division wouldplement our investment portfolio perfectly..."

    I immediately cut him off. "I¡¯m sorry, but we¡¯re not a good match."

    His confident expression crumbled into confusion. "Why not? We seem to be getting along well."

    "Because your family¡¯s agenda is way too obvious," I replied bluntly, setting down my coffee cup with finality. "I¡¯m not looking to merge business assets through marriage."

    The awkward silence that followed was mercifully brief. He recovered quickly, made some vaguement about "perhaps being too forward," and we parted ways politely but definitively.

    Rachel raised an eyebrow as she slid into the now-vacant seat across from me. "That was quick. Not even thirty minutes."

    "Efficiency is my specialty," I replied dryly.

    The second man early forties, he was dressed in what I recognized as a bespoke suit, with the subtle signs of wealth that weren¡¯t meant to be noticed by the uninitiated.

    "Ms. Shaw, a pleasure," he said, his handshake firm but not aggressive. "I appreciate you making time in your busy schedule."

    Our conversation began with the expected pleasantries, but unlike the younger man, he dispensed with them quickly. I¡¯d barely taken three sips of my wine when he leaned forward slightly.

    "We¡¯ve both been divorced, so we know how things work," he said, his expression pragmatic rather than romantic.

    I offered a measured smile. "I don¡¯t necessarily know what you mean."

    "I know about Shaw Corp, and I¡¯ve heard about you," he continued with unwavering confidence. "But business is still a man¡¯s world. So if we get together, you could hire someone to manage Shaw Corp. Your main responsibility would be having children."

    I nearly choked on my wine.

    Undeterred by my reaction, he continued. "With ourbined family assets, we need heirs. One for your family, one for mine. So we need at least two kids. For your family, boy or girl is your call, but for my side, preferably a boy, since I¡¯m the fourth

    generation only son..."

    He continued talking, outlining his vision of our future with such precision that it was clear he¡¯d rehearsed this speech. I sat there, expression carefully neutral despite the anger bubbling inside me. This man¡ª this stranger-was nning my reproductive schedule before we¡¯d even finished our appetizers.

    As he finally paused for breath, I asked. "I understand you have a daughter already?"

    He looked momentarily surprised by the change in topic. "Yes, from my previous marriage."

    "And you don¡¯t have custody?"

    His expression tightened almost imperceptibly. "My ex-wife requested full custody. It made more sense given my work schedule."

    I nodded. "I think we¡¯ve learned everything we need to know about each other."

    "We¡¯ve barely started," he protested.

    "Actually, we¡¯re finished," I replied, standing and signaling to Rachel.

    "Thank you for your time."

    ---

    "I just don¡¯t understand why men are so full of themselves," I said, stabbing at my steak while holding my phone to my ear with my shoulder.

    Catherine¡¯sughter filtered through the phone. "Two strikes in one day.

    Your mother¡¯s going to be disappointed."

    "I checked, and this guy¡¯s worth is barely over a hundred million,¡¯ " I continued, feeling the ridiculousness of even making such a statement. "What gives him the right to expect me to give up my career to have his children? And specifically a son? Give me a break!"

    Rachel silently refilled my wine ss, her expression sympathetic.

    "And you know what¡¯s even funnier?

    He has a daughter already, but when he got divorced, he gave up custody to his ex-wife. Unbelievable." The cold fury in my voice surprised even me.

    Catherine made a disapproving sound.

    "Well, you¡¯ve certainly discovered another fascinating specimen of mankind."

    I set down my fork, appetite gone.

    "I¡¯m cancelling tomorrow¡¯s date. I think your suggestion might actually work." The idea that had seemed so oundish a few days ago was beginning to feel like the most rational option avable.

    Catherine¡¯s voice turned unexpectedly serious. "Are you really going to have a child on your own? Doesn¡¯t Uncle Marcus have any chance?"

    The question hung between us, charged with unspokenplexities. I felt a familiar tightness in my chest at the mention of Marcus Murphy.

    "It¡¯s not about age differences. I¡¯m not concerned that he¡¯s Jack¡¯s uncle," I said quietly.

    Marcus¡¯s image formed in my mind unbidden¡ªhis intense dark eyes, the quiet dignity in his bearing, the way hemanded a room without trying.

    Catherine was right¡ªhe was exactly my type. Mature, intelligent, decisive.

    Someone who made me feel safe, protected. Someone I could trust.

    But thereiny the problem.

    "It¡¯s my own issue," I continued, my voice dropping to nearly a whisper. "I honestly don¡¯t think I have the capacity to love someone wholeheartedly again. Besides, Uncle Marcus¡¯s business is in Europe. We live inpletely different worlds.

    Forcing ourselves together would probably just make us another unhappy couple."

    The silence stretched between us, heavy with understanding. Catherine knew my history, knew how deeply the betrayal with Jack had scarred me.

    She also knew how fiercely independent I¡¯d be as a result.

    Finally, she sighed deeply. "Fine, this is thest time I¡¯ll try to convince you.

    Whatever you decide to do, I¡¯m here for you."

 Chapter 67: Shadows of Marcus

    <h4>Chapter 67: Shadows of Marcus</h4>

    Catherine¡¯s POV

    The line went dead as Anna hung up.

    "What the hell was I thinking?" I muttered to myself, running a hand through my hair.

    Anna had been through enough already¡ªa failed marriage, business betrayals, family pressures. Now she was considering having a child just to appease her mother and grandmother.

    And I had encouraged her, even suggested an hical way to do it.

    I grabbed my phone again, scrolling to Uncle Marcus¡¯s contact. My thumb hovered over the call button as I considered my approach. Uncle Marcus wasn¡¯t exactly the warm, fuzzy type who responded well to emotional appeals or matchmaking schemes.

    _Just be casual. Keep it subtle._

    After three rings, his deep voice answered with characteristic brevity: "Speak."

    I rolled my eyes instinctively. _No wonder he¡¯s still single. That voice could freeze hell itself._

    "Uncle Marcus, I wanted to discuss something with you," I said, keeping my tone light and conversational.

    "Go on." His responses were always economic, almost painfully so.

    I took a deep breath, mentally rehearsing my indirect approach. "So I have this friend who¡¯s facing pressure from her family about marriage and having children. She doesn¡¯t want to get married but is considering having a child, and I was wondering¡ª"

    "The Shaws are pressuring Anna about marriage and children?" he interrupted, his voice suddenly sharp with interest.

    My jaw dropped. I hadn¡¯t even mentioned Anna¡¯s name-hadn¡¯t evene close to describing her specific situation¡ªand he¡¯d immediately

    connected the dots. How closely was he following Anna¡¯s life?

    "What? Uncle Marcus, what are you talking about?" I stammered, trying to recover. "I didn¡¯t say anything about Anna Shaw, this is about my friend¡ª"

    The line went dead. He¡¯d hung up on me.

    I stared at my phone in disbelief.

    "What just happened?"

    I flopped back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. "Anna, I¡¯m so sorry. I think I might have just made things worse."

    The more I thought about it, the more worried I became. What if Uncle Marcus confronted Anna because of my careless hint? She¡¯d immediately know I¡¯d been meddling, and she hated when people interfered in her life.

    I needed to do damage control, and fast.

    Grabbing my phone again, I browsed through photos of several designer handbags from thetest collection that had just been released. I quickly selected the most exclusive ones and sent them to Anna with the message:

    "New collection just dropped. Pick one as a New Year¡¯s gift."

    Anna¡¯s response came almost immediately: "?? What¡¯s going on?"

    I feigned impatience: "Do you want one or not? If not, forget it."

    The three dots appeared as she typed, then: "Thanks bestie, love you!" with a circle around the most expensive bag in the lineup.

    I couldn¡¯t help but smile. At least that crisis was temporarily averted.

    Anna¡¯s POV

    It was past eleven when I finally walked out of Shaw Corp¡¯s main entrance, massaging my aching shoulders while stifling a yawn. The winter night¡¯s cold instantly attacked my exposed skin, making me regret not bringing a heavier coat. I¡¯d been so focused on the uing board presentation that I¡¯d lost track of time, again.

    When I nced up and spotted that unmistakable tall figure under the streetlight, my entire body froze mid-step. Marcus Murphy. My heart immediately kicked into overdrive, sending adrenaline rushing through my veins.

    Why is he here?

    The thought hit me like a lightning bolt-Catherine must have told him about my arranged dates. Why else would he suddenly appear outside my office at this hour? There was no other exnation.

    Feigning surprise, I called out, "Uncle Marcus? When did you get back?"

    He stood there, wrapped in a ck wool coat that made him look even more imposing against the night backdrop. I noticed Peter Reed behind him holding a leather case they must havee straight from the airport.

    Marcus merely gave me a prating look without responding, then turned and started walking away.

    I hesitated for a beat before following him, surprising myself with my actions. He didn¡¯t ask me toe along. Why am I following? But my feet didn¡¯t stop. Deep down, I wanted to discover the real reason behind his sudden return to Skyview City.

    Rachel appeared at my side, concern etched across her features. "Ms. Shaw, should I bring the car around?"

    "No," I replied, my eyes fixed on Marcus¡¯s retreating figure. "Follow us at a distance."

    The cold streets were nearly empty, with only asional workaholics hurrying to catchte-night

    transportation. Marcus walked with sure, confident strides, while I followed behind, not even asking where we were headed. Peter and Rachel each drove their cars behind us, forming the strangest procession. Looking at this scene, I almostughed out loud ¡ªit was too much like those awkward

    scenes in romance dramas where silence between characters speaks volumes.

    The ufortable atmosphere finallypelled me to speak. "Uncle Marcus, where are we going?"

    He didn¡¯t answer, instead quickening his pace. I had to half-jog to keep up, feeling both frustrated and inexplicably excited by the mystery.

    We eventually arrived at a hidden bar just two blocks from Shaw Corp. The ce was surprisingly quiet, with private booths and barely any customers. There wasn¡¯t even background music. Marcus clearly knew the ce well, walking directly to a window seat.

    No sooner had we sat down than a man who looked like the owner approached with an expression of delighted surprise. "Mr. Murphy!

    When did you get back?"

    He gestured to a waitress and whispered some instructions. Marcus answered tly, "Just arrived."

    The man could barely contain his excitement. "Sir, it¡¯s been too long¡ª you look even more handsome than before." Then he turned to me: "And this must be Ms. Shaw. You two make such a perfect match."

    I was taken aback. Was I really that well-known?

    Marcus introduced him: "This is Ryan White. He used to work with Peter until he was injured and returned to America."

    Ryan immediately jumped in enthusiastically: "Though I¡¯m stateside now, I¡¯d go back to work for you in a heartbeat, sir. Running this bar is boring as hell." He turned to exin to me: "After I was injured, Mr. Murphy gave me enough money to open this ce, but I¡¯d much rather be back working for him. Ms. Shaw, let me tell you, he¡¯s honestly the most dependable man you could ever_"

    "Enough," Marcus¡¯s expression darkened. "Go."

    "Yes, sir," Ryan grinned as a waitress brought over a table full of drinks and appetizers. "Enjoy. I¡¯ll be over there chatting with Peter if you need anything."

    As Ryan walked away, I noticed his uneven gait¡ªhis leg was clearly problematic. Curiosity got the better of me, and I asked, "Uncle Marcus, how did Ryan get injured?"

    The bar¡¯s dim lighting couldn¡¯t hide the intensity in Marcus¡¯s deep eyes as he studied my face.

    "Someone tried to kill me. He and Peter protected me. Nerve damage. Not fully repairable," he exined so casually, as if discussing the weather forecast.

    I inhaled sharply, my mind shing with images of what must have been a terrifying situation. For Ryan to still be walking with nerve damage meant he had been extremely fortunate.

    Looking at the outwardly cold man sitting across from me, I found myself filled with questions. Who exactly was Marcus Murphy? How much about his past did I not know? Why did he bring me here to see Ryan?

    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and

    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 68: No Way Out

    <h4>Chapter 68: No Way Out</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I swirled the wine in my ss, watching the burgundy liquid cling to the sides before sliding back down. Across from me, Marcus Murphy sat with perfect posture, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. The restaurant¡¯s soft lighting cast shadows across his angr features, making him look even more imposing than usual.

    "I currently have some enemies," he said matter-of-factly, as if discussing the weather. "They¡¯re probably still regrouping, but they might seek revengeter. It could be life-threatening."

    I stared at him in confusion, my fork suspended halfway to my mouth. The delicate sea bass suddenly seemed less appetizing.

    "Uncle Marcus, why are you sharing this with me? Do you need help?" I set my fork down. "I¡¯m not sure what I could do for you."

    He didn¡¯t answer immediately, just took a measured sip of water. "I have some assets in the States, plus overseas investments-worth tens billions, I believe." His voice remained even, businesslike. "I don¡¯t have any bad habits. I used to drink heavily, but now no one dares pressure me to drink. I used to smoke, but when someone mentioned they didn¡¯t like it, I quit."

    My heartbeat quickened as a ridiculous thought formed in my mind. _Is he... courting me?_

    My cheeks flushed with heat, and I tried to make light of the situation.

    "Uncle Marcus, you¡¯re cutting in line," I teased, thinking about tomorrow¡¯s arranged meeting. By protocol, Marcus should have waited his turn.

    His gaze deepened, eyes never leaving my face. My smile froze as an inexplicable tension crawled up my spine. I grabbed my wine ss and took a sip to hide my unease, but the alcohol burned so much I nearly choked.

    "Did Catherine tell you?" I asked, voice slightly hoarse. "This was all my family¡¯s idea. I¡¯m not really interested in marriage so young¡ªIm still young, haha."

    _God, that sounded stupid._

    Marcus didn¡¯t join my casual banter.

    "Those are my basic circumstances. If you want to know more details, you can ask me anytime." He paused, then emphasized, "Ask *me*. Others don¡¯t know, including Grandfather William."

    My pulse jumped again. He was suggesting that I could know things even William Murphy didn¡¯t? The implication of such special treatment made my stomach flip.

    "Well.." I stammered, finding it impossible to look him in the eye.

    Marcus was no longer young, and he was clearly looking for marriage. The mere thought made my chest constrict like I was having an asthma attack.

    I took a deep breath. "Uncle Marcus, I really can¡¯t ept your feelings."

    "Why? Give me a reason that will convince me," he replied firmly, like we were negotiating a multi-million dor contract with no room forpromise.

    I knew I couldn¡¯t evade this. Nor did I have the ability to deceive Marcus Murphy. His reputation for seeing through lies was legendary in business circles.

    "Because... because I¡¯m actually seeing someone," I said, inventing wildly.

    His eyes narrowed sharply. "Who?"

    "I can¡¯t tell you." I crossed my arms protectively, doubling down on my fiction. "The point is, I¡¯m already with someone, and I can¡¯t ept anyone else. I only agreed to these meetings to prevent my grandmother and mother from worrying."

    Marcus tilted his head slightly. "Then why don¡¯t you bring him home?"

    _Shit. Good question._

    "Because we won¡¯t get married," I answered, trying to sound casual.

    "We¡¯re just fulfilling each other¡¯s needs, with no responsibility to each other. I prefer this arrangement-not having to love anyone or be loved by anyone means not getting hurt again."

    His gaze grew more prating.

    "What¡¯s his name?"

    "Why are you asking these questions, Uncle Marcus? I won¡¯t tell you."

    "I suspect you¡¯re making excuses," he said quietly, his eyes X-ray-like in their intensity.

    My face betrayed me, heating up instantly. "To be honest, I¡¯ve maintained a very stable... rtionship with him. So, Uncle Marcus, I¡¯m not lying to you." I rushed to add, "We¡¯re notpatible-you deserve someone better, more dignified and elegant."

    Marcus raised an eyebrow and finally looked away. "Is that so?" He picked up his forks. "Let¡¯s eat. Ryan¡¯s appetizers here are quite good."

    The tension eased, but something in his easy eptance unsettled me more than his questions had.

    After dinner, Marcus insisted on driving me home. At the Shaw residence entrance, he remained in his car but rolled down the window.

    "Give my regards to your grandmother. I¡¯ll visit properly another time."

    "No need, Uncle Marcus," I said hurriedly, waving my hands. "You¡¯re so busy¡ªplease don¡¯t trouble yourself."

    Marcus turned to look at me, his tone calm but resolute. "It¡¯s no trouble, especially since I intend to pursue her granddaughter."

    I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, wincing at the dark circles that had taken up permanent residence under my eyes. Last night¡¯s insomnia had left its mark, etching exhaustion onto my face like an unwanted tattoo.

    "Annie! How did the dates go yesterday?"

    My mother¡¯s voice floated down the hallway, vibrating with barely contained excitement. I groaned internally. Elizabeth Shaw, socialite extraordinaire and now, apparently, my personal matchmaker, had been waiting to ambush me the moment I emerged from my room.

    "They were both disasters," I called back, thering on concealer in a futile attempt to look less like a walking corpse.

    She appeared in the doorway, her elegant silk robe belted tightly around her slender waist, eyes bright with anticipation.

    "The first one quoted his mother at least fifteen times during appetizers," I said, setting down the makeup brush with perhaps more force than necessary. "Every other sentence started with ¡¯My mom says...¡¯ I half expected him to call her during dessert to ask permission to breathe."

    Elizabeth¡¯s perfectly arched eyebrows drew together. "And the second one?"

    "Even worse. He basically conducted a business interview. Informed me that after our marriage, I should hire someone to run Shaw Corp so I could focus on my ¡¯main responsibility¡¯ of producing heirs." My voice dripped with acid as I continued applying makeup. "One for my family, one for his, with a preference for a boy for his side since he¡¯s a fourth-generation only son."

    My mother¡¯s face flushed with indignation. "These men! The audacity! "

    "One wants my money, the other wants my womb," I summarized tly.

    "Quality options you¡¯ve lined up, Mom."

    I wrapping my arms around her like I used to as a child. "Mom, I¡¯m exhausted. I¡¯m exhausted. Can we cancel today¡¯s blind date? Please?" I softened my voice, summoning my best pleading expression.

    Elizabeth hesitated, but then said firmly, "You can¡¯t cancel it. Go and see it. Perhaps this will do?"

    "Annie, you look terrible," she said, tilting my chin up to examine me more closely. Her fingers were cool against my skin. "Your eyes are so puffy, and your skin is... When was thest time you did a proper skincare routine?"

    I pulled back. "Thanks for the confidence boost before my date."

    "This won¡¯t do," she dered, ignoring my sarcasm. "You can¡¯t meet anyone looking like this, no matter how brilliant you are."

    Before I could respond, she was already moving with purpose, striding into the hallway and calling out orders. "Bring ice packs for Ms. Shaw¡¯s eyes! And fetch my special pearl powder mask from my vanity!"

 Chapter 69: The Unexpected Intruder

    <h4>Chapter 69: The Unexpected Intruder</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I stared at my reflection in the mirror, wincing at the dark circles under my eyes. Last night¡¯s insomnia had left its mark clearly visible on my face.

    "Annie! How¡¯s the preparation going?"

    My mother¡¯s voice floated down the hallway, filled with excitement. I groaned internally. Elizabeth Shaw had been hovering all morning, micromanaging every aspect of my appearance for today¡¯s blind date.

    "Almost done," I called back, applying concealer.

    For the next hour, I surrendered to my mother¡¯s ministrations. When she finished my makeup, I barely recognized myself in the mirror.

    "Now you look like a sweet and lovely Anna Shaw," she said with satisfaction.

    "I agreed to meet him, didn¡¯t I? Can¡¯t we keep it simple?" I sighed.

    "This one is different," Elizabeth insisted. "I have a good feeling about Gabriel Barrett."

    "You had a good feeling about thest two disasters as well," I reminded her.

    Mother waved her hand dismissively.

    "None of them were Gabriel. Leah Barrett is my card-ying friend.

    Gabriel is her nephew. His sister is a university professor, and both his parents are schrs. A proper family."

    I couldn¡¯t resist asking, "Do they know I¡¯m divorced?"

    A sh of pain crossed her features.

    "Of course they know. They also know you¡¯re brilliant and aplished. Your past is just that-the past, nothing more."

    "We should get going," she said, checking her watch. "I told Leah we¡¯d meet at Le Ciel at noon. I want to be there first to make sure everything is perfect."

    Le Ciel was one of Skyview City¡¯s most exclusive restaurants. Mother had reserved a semi-private alcove by the window. She immediately began rearranging the table, ensuring the flowers were perfectly centered and the lighting ttering.

    "¡¯ve already pre-ordered," she informed me as we settled into our seats. "The chef has prepared a special tasting menu-seven courses with wine pairings."

    Twenty minutester, the ma?tre d¡¯ approached our table, escorting a middle-aged woman and a tall, well-dressed man.

    "Elizabeth, darling!" The woman air-kissed my mother on both cheeks. "So sorry we¡¯rete. The traffic was absolutely dreadful."

    "Leah! Notte at all. We¡¯ve only just arrived ourselves," my mother lied smoothly, despite having been here for nearly twenty minutes.

    I rose from my seat, pasting on the practiced smile I reserved for business negotiations. My mother nudged me forward expectantly.

    "Hello, I¡¯m Anna Shaw," I said, extending my hand toward Gabriel Barrett.

    He was taller than I expected, with broad shoulders and a jawline that could cut ss. His suit was impably tailored, navy blue with a subtle pinstripe that spoke of wealth without shouting it. When he smiled, his hazel eyes crinkled at the corners in a way that seemed genuine rather than practiced.

    "Pleasure to meet you, I¡¯m Gabriel Barrett," he replied, his handshake firm but not aggressive.

    "Gabriel, do you already know our Annie?" my mother asked.

    "Yes, ourpany coborated with Shaw Corp about three years ago. I was the liaison. You were very focused during those meetings. I was impressed."

    As one exquisite course after another arrived, I found myself rxing despite my initial reluctance. Gabriel was intelligent without being condescending, sessful without being boastful. He listened when I spoke and asked thoughtful follow-up questions. Most importantly, he seemed to view me as a person rather than a business opportunity or a breeding prospect.

    By the time dessert arrived, I had to admit that Gabriel Barrett was objectively the best blind date my mother had arranged. He checked every box on paper: educated, sessful, from a good family, attractive, and seemingly genuine.

    Yet inside, I felt... nothing. No spark, no flutter, no desire to see him again. My heart remained as unmoved as if I¡¯d spent the afternoon at a particrly pleasant business lunch.

    As coffee was served, I found myself counting the minutes until I could politely excuse myself. Gabriel was perfect on paper, but the thought of a rtionship with him felt like looking at a glossy magazine: beautiful, idealized, and utterly devoid of real emotion.

    Just then, I noticed Rachel entering the restaurant with brisk steps. She came directly to our table and leaned down to whisper in my ear, "Mr. Murphy is here."

    I was about to respond when the restaurant door suddenly opened.

    There he stood.

    Marcus Murphy.

    My blood turned to ice in my veins.

    He filled the doorframe with his imposing height, dressed in a charcoal suit that emphasized his broad shoulders. His eyes immediately found mine, sending a jolt of electricity down my spine.

    What the hell is he doing here?

    The conversation died instantly. A heavy silence fell over the room as everyone turned to look at the unexpected intruder.

    Elizabeth recovered first. "Marcus?" she asked, her voice pitched higher than normal. "You¡¯re back in America?"

    His prating gaze swept around the room before returning to me. "Yes."

    One syble. That was all he offered.

    My mother smiled uncertainly. "When did you return? We had no idea."

    When Marcus¡¯s eyes locked with mine again, his lips curved into the barest hint of a smile. "Justst night. Annie knows."

    I felt my face heat up as Elizabeth shot me a look that screamed We¡¯ll talk about thister.

    "Uncle Marcus, have you eaten?" I asked, striving for normalcy. "If you haven¡¯t, you¡¯re wee to join us. Or if you have, then perhaps-"

    Before I could politely suggest he leave, Marcus pulled out the empty chair next to me and sat down.

    I was just being courteous. I didn¡¯t actually want him to stay!

    Elizabeth hurriedly made introductions. "Mrs. Barrett, this is Marcus Murphy of the Murphy family.

    Marcus, this is Leah Barrett and her nephew Gabriel Barrett."

    Gabriel immediately stood up, extending his hand across the table. "Mr. Murphy, it¡¯s a pleasure to meet you. I¡¯m Gabriel Barrett. Our firm has coborated with Murphy Global. I look forward to potentially working

    together."

    Marcus barely nced at the offered hand, making no move to take it. "Sit down," he said, his voice carrying a subtle but unmistakable note of

    dismissal.

    I could feel Gabriel¡¯s difort as he slowly lowered himself back into his chair, his hand awkwardly retreating.

    Elizabeth jumped in, clearly trying to salvage the situation. "Gabriel is quite aplished for his age. He¡¯s built his career entirely on merit, wouldn¡¯t you agree, Anna?"

    Really, Mom? Dragging me into this?

    With Marcus¡¯s imposing presence beside me, I felt like I was sitting next to a barely contained storm.

    "Yes, absolutely," I agreed halfheartedly, shing that professional smile again. "Very impressive."

    I quickly gestured to Rachel, who had been standing discreetly by the wall.

    "Could you ask the server to bring another setting? Mr. Murphy will be joining us for dinner."

    "No need." Marcus¡¯s deep voice cut through the tension. "I¡¯m not here to eat."

    A chill ran down my spine. I turned to him, eyes widening in warning. You wouldn¡¯t dare make a scene.

    "Uncle Marcus," I said, my voice deliberately light, "the food here is excellent. Let¡¯s enjoy dinner while we catch up."

    Hepletely ignored me, focusing his razor-sharp attention on Gabriel instead. "I heard Annie was meeting a potential match here tonight. I came to put myself forward as a candidate."

 Chapter 70: A Dangerous Surprise

    <h4>Chapter 70: A Dangerous Surprise</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    The words hung in the air like a grenade with its pin pulled. I sat frozen, my coffee cup suspended halfway to my lips, as my brain struggled to process what Marcus had just said. The bustling restaurant seemed to fade away, leaving only the thundering of my heart in my ears.

    Gabriel¡¯s face drained of color. Leah Barrett looked like she¡¯d swallowed something particrly unpleasant. And my mother-my poor mother¡ª appeared to be experiencing all five stages of grief simultaneously.

    "Marcus," Elizabeth finally managed, her voice pitched several notes higher than normal, "what an unexpected... joke. Very amusing." She forced out augh that sounded like ss breaking.

    Marcus¡¯s eyes remained fixed on me, ignoring everyone else at the table.

    "I¡¯m not joking."

    The intensity of his gaze made my skin prickle with heat. I set down my coffee cup before my trembling hands could betray me further.

    "Uncle Marcus," I began, trying to keep my voice steady, "this really isn¡¯t the time or ce-"

    "I¡¯ve made my intentions clear," he interrupted, his deep voice cutting through my protests like a hot knife through butter. "And I don¡¯t believe in wasting time on pretense."

    Leah Barrett, ever the social strategist, recognized a battle lost before it had truly begun. She ced her napkin on the table and rose gracefully.

    "Elizabeth, darling, I just remembered we have another engagement this afternoon. Gabriel?"

    Gabriel stood immediately, smoothing his jacket with hands that weren¡¯t quite steady. "Yes, of course. Ms. Shaw," he nodded toward me, "it was a pleasure meeting you. Perhaps another time."

    I forced a smile, knowing full well there wouldn¡¯t be "another time" thanks to Marcus¡¯s theatrical entrance. "Thank you for lunch. It was lovely meeting you both."

    As soon as the Barretts were out of earshot, Elizabeth turned to Marcus.

    "What on earth do you think you¡¯re doing? Have youpletely lost your mind?"

    "Was it not clear enough? I¡¯m interested in Anna." The matter-of-fact way he stated this made it sound like he was discussing a business acquisition rather than a romantic pursuit.

    "This is *not* how things are done," my mother hissed, keeping her voice low but sharp. "You can¡¯t just barge in and announce yourself like that! "

    "Isn¡¯t this more efficient?" he asked. "Why waste her time with candidates who aren¡¯t suitable?"

    This meal is not enough to eat, my mother made an excuse and took me away.

    ---

    "Anna, you tell me the truth right now," Elizabeth demanded the moment our car pulled away from the restaurant. "What is going on between you and Marcus Murphy?"

    My mother¡¯s voice contained equal parts fear and fury.

    I sighed and said, "His intentions were quite obvious, it was clear even at grandmother¡¯s birthday celebration. I really don¡¯t know why he took an interest in me."

    "Anna," my mother¡¯s voice dropped to a near-whisper, "you need to stay away from Marcus Murphy."

    I raised an eyebrow. "Mom, I didn¡¯t seek him out. He¡¯s the one who keeps appearing."

    Elizabeth turned to look out the window, her profile rigid with tension.

    "This can¡¯t happen, Anna. I can¡¯t¡ªI won¡¯t have William Murphy as an inw. I simply can¡¯t get past that." She pped her knee in frustration. "And you should stay away from the Murphy estate. Just... keep your distance from all of them."

    ----

    The Sanders estate was awash with lights, the sounds ofughter and music spilling out from every open window. I handed my coat to the waiting attendant, mentally preparing myself for an evening of socializing when I¡¯d much rather be hiding under my nkets at home.

    "Annie! You made it!"

    Before I could fully register the voice, I was enveloped in a crushing hug. Paisley Sanders, the birthday girl herself, bounced on her toes as she embraced me, her enthusiasm causing her curls to bounce against my cheek.

    "Paisley, happy birthday," I managed, patting her back awkwardly. For all my business acumen, I¡¯d never quite mastered the art of receiving physical affection gracefully.

    She pulled back, her eyes bright with excitement. "I wasn¡¯t sure you¡¯de!

    I know how busy you are with Shaw Corp and everything."

    I smiled, genuinely this time. Paisley¡¯s unfiltered joy was contagious. "How could I miss your eighteenth? Besides, you¡¯re a senior in high school now¡ª it¡¯s not like I can just drop by to see you anytime."

    "I know, right? Mom¡¯s been so strict about visitors during exam prep." She rolled her eyes dramatically. "But look, you¡¯re here now!"

    I handed her the small velvet box I¡¯d been carrying. "Happy birthday, Paisley."

    Her eyes widened as she opened it, revealing the pink diamond bracelet I¡¯d selected. "Annie! Oh my god, it¡¯s gorgeous!" She bounced on her toes, her excitement almost childlike in its purity. "Put it on me, please?"

    "Perfect," I said, admiring how the pink diamonds caught the light. "It suits you."

    Paisley threw her arms around me again. "Thank you! I love it so much!

    Wait here, okay? Catherine texted that she¡¯s arriving soon. We can all catch up together!"

    "Annie! Surprise!"

    Catherine¡¯s familiar voice cut through the ambient chatter of the party. I turned, a smile already forming on my lips¡ªuntil I saw who was standing beside her.

    Marcus Murphy.

    My smile froze in ce as I took in the sight of them both. Catherine looked absolutely delighted with herself, a mischievous glint in her eye that confirmed my suspicion that she¡¯d orchestrated this "coincidence."

    "Catherine, so good to see you," I managed, my voice remarkably steady despite the chaos erupting in my brain. "And Uncle Marcus... what a surprise. Twice in one day¡ªhow lucky am I?"

    Marcus, dressed impably in a dark suit that emphasized his imposing height and broad shoulders, merely nodded in acknowledgment.

    "Uncle Marcus just got back to town," Catherine exined with false innocence, "so I thought, why not bring him along to Paisley¡¯s party?

    Surprise!" She wiggled her fingers in a jazz-hands gesture that made me want to strangle her.

    "How thoughtful of you," I replied dryly. Catherine¡¯s expression told me she knew exactly what I was thinking.

    Before I could formte an appropriate response, I spotted my mother across the room. The moment Elizabeth caught sight of Marcus, her pleasant socialite smile vanished.

    Within seconds, she was at my side, her arm linking firmly with mine.

    "Catherine, darling! How lovely to see you," she greeted warmly,pletely ignoring Marcus¡¯s presence. "Why don¡¯t we go sit with the otherdies? I spotted Daisy Sanders over by the window with the most fascinating champagne fountain."

    Without waiting for a response, my mother began steering me away, her grip on my arm brooking no argument.

 Chapter 71: A Public Declaration

    <h4>Chapter 71: A Public Deration</h4>

    Marcus¡¯s POV

    The Sanders family¡¯s gathering buzzed with Skyview City¡¯s elite mingling throughout the spacious ballroom. Weaving through clusters of tuxedos and evening gowns, I made my way toward Joseph, nodding at acquaintances but avoiding any substantial conversation.

    Joseph¡¯s eyes lit up with mischief the moment he saw me approaching.

    "Well, if it isn¡¯t the lovestruck genius himself," he said, voice pitched low enough for only me to hear.

    "You old dog," he said, leaning closer.

    "I never pegged you for the lovesick type. Flying back and forth across the Antic like some teenager with his first crush."

    I didn¡¯t dignify his teasing with a response, instead scanning the room with practiced indifference. "I need your advice on something."

    Joseph¡¯s eyebrows shot up in exaggerated surprise. "The great Marcus Murphy needs *my* advice?

    Alert the media!"

    "How do I get the Shaw family¡¯s approval?" I asked, ignoring his theatrics.

    "Shaw family¡¯s approval for what?"

    Joseph tilted his head.

    "For everything. Including Anna," I answered directly. This was my most pressing concern: how to make Anna and her family ept our rtionship.

    Joseph erupted intoughter, nearly spilling his drink. "Wait, you¡¯re telling me you still haven¡¯t revealed yourself?

    All this time?"

    He looked around conspiratorially before lowering his voice. "Why don¡¯t you just tell her who you really are?

    The girl will probably stop fighting it once she realizes she¡¯s already slept with you. The age gap and family connections be trivial details at that point."

    I considered his suggestion, weighing the potential oues. Anna¡¯s feelings were paramount to me¡ªI couldn¡¯t risk losing her. "Not possible. Anna has explicitly said she doesn¡¯t want marriage. The trauma from her previous rtionship still lingers. If I confess everything, she¡¯ll likely never see me again."

    Thinking about Anna¡¯s stubborn nature made me sigh internally. I had no certainty about how she would react to the truth. Revealing my identity might solve some problems but could create even more barriers between us. I wasn¡¯t willing to take that risk.

    Joseph slouched into the plush sofa, carelessly remarking, "Anna has quite the ambition, you know. She¡¯s been meeting with Samuel Griffin recently.

    Gotta admire her courage not many would dare deal with someone like him."

    My heart sank at the mention of Anna¡¯s involvement with Samuel. My expression darkened involuntarily.

    "What¡¯s happening with Griffin?"

    "Griffin probably doesn¡¯t want to work with the Simpsons," Joseph replied.

    "George Simpson and Samuel Griffin are well-matched opponents-both greedy and calcting. Two smart foxes who don¡¯t want to be outsmarted. They¡¯ll never truly coborate."

    He added thoughtfully, "Though Griffin is unpredictable. Yes, he¡¯s a bit of a bastard, but he¡¯s reliable in business. If he genuinely wants to coborate, Anna might have struck gold."

    Anna¡¯s POV

    The Sanders estate looked magnificent tonight, every crystal chandelier casting prismatic light across the ballroom¡¯s polished marble floors. I nursed my first ss of champagne, watching Skyview City¡¯s elite mingle among themselves with practiced smiles and calcted conversations.

    "Let me refresh that for you."

    Logan appeared at my side, champagne bottle in hand, his warm smile impossibly sincere. He¡¯d been hovering near me all evening, anticipating my every need with an attentiveness that would have been sweet if it didn¡¯t feel so suffocating.

    "Thank you," I replied, offering a polite smile as he filled my flute with expert precision. Not too full, not too little-just perfect.

    "The turnout is impressive," hemented, settling into the empty seat beside me. "Nearly everyone who matters in Skyview City is here tonight."

    I nodded in agreement, scanning the crowd. My mother and Doris Porter sat across from us, their heads bent together in conspiratorial whispers, asionally ncing our way with poorly disguised hope in their eyes. I pretended not to notice, focusing instead on the string quartet in the corner.

    "I heard your mother has been introducing you to some potential suitors," Doris said loudly enough for me to hear, her tone carrying a hint of reproach.

    My spine stiffened involuntarily. I kept my eyes fixed on the quartet, straining to hear my mother¡¯s response over the ambient chatter.

    Elizabethughed softly, a touch of embarrassment coloring her voice. "I¡¯m just giving her options. Once she sees what¡¯s out there, she¡¯ll appreciate what¡¯s right in front of her."

    I nearly choked on my champagne.

    Subtlety had never been my mother¡¯s strong suit.

    Doris nodded approvingly. "In all of Skyview City, who could possiblypare to my Logan? He¡¯s sessful, handsome, and he adores her." She leaned closer to my mother, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that somehow still carried. "Can you imagine their children? If they have a daughter who inherits Anna¡¯s beauty and intelligence... I¡¯ve always wanted a granddaughter."

    My champagne suddenly tasted bitter.

    They were already nning my hypothetical children while I sat not ten feet away. I shot Logan a sidelong nce, wondering if he could hear his mother¡¯s matchmaking efforts. If he did, he gave no indication, his attention focused solely on me.

    "Would you like something from the buffet?" he asked, ever attentive. "I noticed you haven¡¯t eaten much."

    Before I could respond, a noticeable hush fell over our section of the ballroom. Heads turned, conversations paused, and a path seemed to clear through the crowd. I didn¡¯t need to look to know who had arrived- Marcus Murphy¡¯s presencemanded attention without a single word.

    Marcus moved with quiet purpose, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure in his perfectly tailored suit.

    Catherine quickly vacated the seat on my other side, creating the perfect opening for Marcus to join our little group. He settled beside me without a word, his presence instantly altering the dynamics at the table.

    "Mr. Murphy," Logan acknowledged with a polite nod. "I didn¡¯t realize you were back in Skyview City."

    "Yesterday," Marcus replied, his deep voice a study in economy. Nothing extraneous, not a single wasted syble.

    What happened next left me utterly speechless. Marcus reached forward picked up my champagne flute, and drank from it. From *my* ss. His lips touching exactly where mine had been moments before.

    I turned to stare at him, my eyes wide with shock. Was he *deliberately* making some kind of statement? In front of everyone?

    "Uncle Marcus," I managed, forcing a strained smile, "I didn¡¯t expect to see you here tonight."

    His eyes met mine with that prating intensity I¡¯de to recognize. "I saw you across the room."

    Four simple words that somehow carried the weight of something much more significant. I felt heat creep up my neck.

    Logan, bless his perceptive heart, immediately retrieved a fresh champagne flute for me. "Here you are, Anna," he said, filling it with practiced ease.

    I epted it gratefully, taking arger sip than strictly necessary. The bubbles burned down my throat, giving me something to focus on besides Marcus¡¯s overwhelming presence.

    "The men seem to be gathering at the bar," Doris observed, her voice cutting through the tension. "Perhaps you gentlemen would like to join them?

    I¡¯m sure there¡¯s business to discuss."

    Logan nodded amiably. "Excellent idea, Mother." He turned to Marcus.

    "Shall we, Mr. Murphy? I¡¯d love to hear about your European ventures."

    Before rising, Marcus leaned closer to me, his voice low and intimate. "T¡¯ll drive you home afterward."

    My heart stuttered in my chest. "That won¡¯t be necessary, Uncle Marcus," I replied firmly. "I¡¯m returning to Shaw Estate with my mother tonight."

    His response was to ce his hand briefly on my shoulder¡ªa casual touch that felt electric through the thin fabric of my dress. "Thene to Murphy Estate for dinner tomorrow. William has been asking about you."

    I could feel every eye at the table watching this exchange, analyzing our bodynguage, noting his casual intimacy and my flustered response.

    "Of course," I managed. "T¡¯ll make time to visit William soon."

    Marcus finally rose, following Logan toward the bar. I exhaled shakily, unaware that I¡¯d been holding my breath.

    The moment they were out of earshot, three pairs of eyes locked onto me withser focus.

    "What?" I asked defensively, taking another sip of champagne.

    Catherine¡¯s perfectly shaped eyebrow arched high. "Just being polite, huh?

    You two have quite the chemistry for people who are just family friends."

    "What exactly is going on between you and Marcus?" my mother demanded, her expression aplicated mix of concern and something I couldn¡¯t quite identify.

    Doris looked genuinely distressed.

    "Anna, dear, you won¡¯t find many mothers-inw as understanding as me. Won¡¯t you at least consider Logan?"

 Chapter 72: No Room to Breathe

    <h4>Chapter 72: No Room to Breathe</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Three pairs of eyes locked onto me withser focus, their gazes so intense that I nearly squirmed in my seat. The champagne in my ss suddenly seemed like the most fascinating thing in the room as I desperately tried to avoid their scrutinizing stares.

    "What?" I asked defensively, taking another generous sip of champagne.

    The question hung awkwardly in the air. I couldn¡¯t bear another second of this interrogation. Grabbing Catherine¡¯s wrist, I pulled her to her feet.

    "We need to check on Paisley," I said, the excuse sounding flimsy even to my own ears. "Birthday girl duties and all that."

    Catherine¡¯s knowing smirk made me want to dump my champagne over her head, but I maintained myposure as we fled the scene. The moment we were out of earshot, she erupted into a fit of giggles.

    "My uncle is absolutely smitten," she wheezed betweenughs. "I¡¯ve never seen him so... obvious about anything!"

    I shot her a withering re. "This isn¡¯t funny. You know exactly who brought him back, don¡¯t you?"

    Catherine¡¯sughter intensified, her shoulders shaking uncontrobly. "Was it deliberate or genuine emotion?

    Either way, it¡¯s absolutely brilliant!"

    My irritation red. "You¡¯re stillughing? Who invited him back?"

    Watching Catherine nearly doubled over in amusement, my frustration only grew. She finally wiped away tears of mirth. "I just wanted to give Uncle Marcus another chance. If he hadn¡¯te back, I never would have known he had this side to him. Oh god, ? Maybe you should just ept him?"

    I snapped, my temples throbbing painfully. "Don¡¯t you know I¡¯m already seeing someone?"

    Catherine dismissed this with a scoff.

    "Your mysterious hookup? Just end it!

    Is he really better than my uncle?"

    I snagged another cocktail from a passing server, taking a small sip while calcting my next words. "Let me be straight with you¡ªI genuinely see your uncle as an *uncle*. Getting together with him would be... inappropriate, wouldn¡¯t it? Besides, we¡¯repletely ipatible in every way. This is thest time, okay? Stop interfering."

    Catherine finally surrendered with a reluctant nod, though I could tell this wouldn¡¯t be the end of it. My mind kept circling back to Marcus. His aggressive pursuit suggested he wouldn¡¯t give up easily.

    Paisley bounded over, lifting her dress slightly to move faster, and threw her arms around us like an enthusiastic puppy. Something about this increasingly clingy girl softened my heart.

    As we chatted about Paisley¡¯s school life and her adorably innocent "dating" problems, an unwee interruption cut through our conversation.

    "Come with me. I need to ask you something." Jack¡¯s cold voice sliced through ourughter.

    I didn¡¯t even bother looking up, annoyance rising in my chest. "I don¡¯t think we have anything to discuss

    anymore."

    Unexpectedly, he grabbed my wrist and yanked me to my feet. Seeing Paisley and Catherine rise in concern, I quickly waved them off. "Stay seated.

    I¡¯ll just talk to him briefly." Thest thing I wanted was to create a scene in front of all these people.

    The moment we stepped into the garden, the frigid air assaulted my exposed skin like a thousand tiny needles. "Are you insane, Jack? Do you know how cold it is out here? Are you trying to freeze me to death?" I shouted, my entire body instantly covered in goosebumps.

    Seeing him hurriedly remove his suit jacket and wrap it around my shoulders slightly dampened my anger, though I remained wary. Jack gazed at me with those deep eyes that once meant everything to me, seemingly full of words unspoken, yet ultimately asking only: "Anna, do I really have no chance?"

    In that moment, profound weariness washed over me. This feeling reminded me of my teenage years, clearing my desk of endless love letters and unwanted gifts. Some affections were simply burdens to me. What I didn¡¯t want, I absolutely wouldn¡¯t ept.

    When I didn¡¯t answer, Jack¡¯s emotions intensified. "How can you stop loving someone just like that? Anna, do you even have a heart?"

    I looked at him wearily. "Do you know what you look like right now? A desperate, lovesick fool. Can you please stop clinging to me? It¡¯s pathetic."

    Watching this once-dignified man reduced to this state left me confused and disappointed. Wasn¡¯t he the one who divorced me so decisively? Wasn¡¯t he the one who despised me right after our divorce? Why had he transformed into this persistent stalker?

    When Jack finally released my hand, I saw defeat and self-loathing in his eyes. Though still annoyed, I kept his jacket against the biting cold.

    "I¡¯m going back inside. Get your jacket from one of the servers," I said. As I turned to leave, he called after me, his voice regaining someposure.

    "That news about you partnering with Samuel Griffin isn¡¯t true, is it?"

    Of course. That¡¯s what truly concerned him. "Who I partner with is my business. All you need to know is that it won¡¯t be with Simpson Group."

    "I¡¯m just warning you-Samuel is too calcting. You¡¯re no match for him," he said, his words framed as concern but feeling like an insult.

    But I was too cold and too tired to continue this pointless conversation.

    All I wanted was to return to the warmth inside.

    Jack¡¯s POV

    I watched Anna¡¯s retreating figure as she disappeared back into the warm glow of the Sanders mansion, leaving me alone in the biting cold. Her parting words echoed in my mind:

    "Who I partner with is my business.

    All you need to know is that it won¡¯t be with Simpson Group."

    Something inside me crumbled as I stood there, the freezing air numbing my exposed skin. I¡¯d just lost my jacket and any remaining dignity I might have possessed. When had I be this pathetic? This desperate?

    The Anna I¡¯d just encountered wasn¡¯t the woman I¡¯d married. This Anna was harder, colder, more calcting¡ª with edges sharp enough to draw blood. Her eyes, once warm when they looked at me, now held nothing but weariness and disdain.

    *Had she always been this person and I just never noticed? Or did I create this version of her?*

    Each time I¡¯d said those words, something in her eyes had dimmed a little more, but I¡¯d been too blind to notice.

    The image of Anna standing beside Marcus Murphy at the party earlier shed before my eyes. She¡¯d looked so different with him-softer somehow, more attentive. The way she¡¯d listened when he spoke, the slight curve of her lips when he made some dryment. It was like watching a different woman entirely.

    Pax¡¯s voice pulled me from my thoughts as he draped my spare jacket over my shoulders. He hesitated, then added, "They¡¯re discussing the East Lake property. Ms. Shaw joined them."

    My interest piqued immediately. "Thend that¡¯s been bought but never developed?" Internal rms started ringing. That property had been on my radar for years.

    "Yes, sir. Apparently, development is finally moving forward," Pax confirmed.

    I straightened my back, determination recing self-pity. "Who else is there?"

    "Mr. Marcus Murphy is present as well," Pax added carefully, watching for my reaction.

    *Marcus again.* A bitterugh nearly escaped my lips. Was I supposed to avoid every gathering he attended?

    Skulk around like some heartbroken teenager?

    Anna¡¯s final words from our encounter stung freshly: "What you look like right now? A desperate, lovesick fool."

    She was right. I had be exactly that-clinging, desperate, pathetic.

    This wasn¡¯t the Jack Simpson who had won her heart years ago. That man had been confident, steady, someone she could lean on during her darkest hours after her father¡¯s death.

    "I understand," I said, adjusting my jacket and smoothing my hair. No more of this. No more acting like an abandoned spouse.

    I strode toward the men¡¯s lounge area with purpose, my steps measured and deliberate. This time, I wasn¡¯t going to create a scene or confront Anna. This time, I would remind her-and myself ¡ªof the man I used to be. The man who handled business with expertise and confidence. The man she had once loved.

    Anna¡¯s POV

    The whispers rippled through Paisley¡¯s birthday party like a stone thrown into still water, stirring up the surface calm of champagne flutes and polite conversation.

    "Did you hear? They¡¯ve broken ground next to the Shaw historical building in Skke District."

    My ears perked up instantly. For years, that plot had been a mystery¡ª purchased by an unknown buyer and left dormant. Now suddenly construction was starting? I sipped my champagne slowly, carefully maintaining a calm expression despite my racing thoughts.

    The conversation around me shifted seamlessly to the uing Skke District auction, voices dropping an octave as if sharing state secrets. I remained quiet, observing. In Skyview City¡¯s elite circles, what remained unsaid was often more important than what was spoken aloud.

    When Jack Simpson entered, the room fell silent so abruptly it was almostical. He paused in the doorway, scanning faces with that self-satisfied smirk that made my skin crawl.

    "What are you all talking about?

    Everyone got quiet the moment I walked in," he said, clearly enjoying the effect his presence had.

    Someone finally broke the awkward silence. "Any word on when the Skke District papers will be finalized, Mr. Simpson? Any insider information you could share with us?"

    Jack¡¯s lips curled into a smile that didn¡¯t reach his eyes. "Of course."

    Hourster, as the party wound down, Catherine and I stepped outside only to find ourselves facing an unexpected tableau. There, arranged like some bizarre receiving line, stood Marcus Murphy, Jack Simpson, and Logan Porter.

    "Wow, your love life is suddenly very crowded," Catherine whispered, amusement evident in her voice.

    My throat tightened as panic bloomed in my chest. Why are they all here?

    Could they be any more obvious?

    Logan spotted us first, breaking into a warm smile as he approached. "Anna, it¡¯s gettingte. Let me drive you home."

    I grabbed the lifeline he¡¯d unwittingly thrown. "Thank you, Logan. I appreciate it."

    Marcus didn¡¯t move toward us, merely stating in that maddeningly calm voice of his, "Don¡¯t forget dinner with William tomorrow."

    I nodded, simultaneously relieved and strangely disappointed as he turned and walked away.

    Jack¡¯s eyes locked with mine for a long, ufortable moment before he left without a word, that prating gaze making me feel ufortable.

    Once they¡¯d dispersed, Logan turned to me. "So, do you really want me to take you home?"

    "Actually, I¡¯ve got some things to take care of," I said. "I¡¯m not going back to Shaw Estate tonight."

    Back in my room at Sapphire Sky Hotel, I paced the floor, Catherine¡¯s outrageous suggestion echoing in my mind. Those three men, plus my mother and grandmother¡¯s relentless pressure about marriage and children -I was truly cornered.

    "T¡¯ll do it," I whispered to the empty room. "This is the only way out."

    My hands trembled slightly as I made the preparations in Room 3303, but my resolve remained unshaken. Once I¡¯m pregnant, these men will back off.

    And my family will have their precious heir-problem solved.

    The next day, I approached Murphy Estate with a strange mix of anticipation and dread. Before I even reached the main house, a harsh squawk greeted me.

    "Troublemaker¡¯s here! Troublemaker¡¯s here!"

    I narrowed my eyes at the parrot perched on a low branch. "Well hello, Einstein. Long time no see."

    "Troublemaker! Troublemaker!" the parrot insisted, pping its wings dramatically.

    "Einstein, Einstein," I mimicked back.

    "He still remembers you."

    I froze at Marcus¡¯s voice, my yful smile evaporating instantly. How long has he been standing there?

    Marcus gestured toward a nearby pavilion where he¡¯d set out tea. "Come sit."

    "Where¡¯s William?" I asked, scanning the grounds suspiciously.

    "Still inside practicing calligraphy. He¡¯ll be out soon." When I hesitated, he added, "Don¡¯t disturb him, or you¡¯ll get scolded. I just got chased out myself."

    I reluctantly took a seat across from him, tense and hyperaware of his every movement.

    "Am I really that frightening?" he asked, a note of irritation coloring his voice.

    I abandoned pretense. "Yes, you are.

    And frankly, any man who wants a rtionship with me is frightening right now. I really don¡¯t have time to deal with this."

    To my surprise, Marcus let the subject drop. "I heard you¡¯re nning to partner with Samuel Griffin?"

    I sat up straighter, instantly curious.

    "Uncle Marcus, care to guess if that rumor is true?"

    He poured more tea with practiced ease. "Currently it¡¯s false, but the future is uncertain."

    "How uncertain? What do you think¡ª will I partner with him?"

    "You want to, but you have reservations," he stated matter-of-factly.

    My eyes widened slightly. How does he know exactly what I¡¯m thinking?

    "I¡¯ve had someone look into Samuel Griffin thoroughly," Marcus continued.

    "The man may be calcting and constantly scheming, but he¡¯s undeniably capable."

    Hope flickered inside me. "Are you saying I should partner with him?"

    "Of course."

    "Can I handle it?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.

    Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Why couldn¡¯t you?" His gaze was surprisingly gentle. "You just finished getting your revenge. Why the suddenck of confidence?"

    I swallowed hard. "If I partner with Samuel, I¡¯ll essentially be investing almost all of Shaw Corp¡¯s resources. In all my time running Shaw Corp, I¡¯ve never undertaken a project this massive. I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m ready."

    Marcus unfolded a map of Skyview City, circling an area with his finger.

    "This area-Nestling Crest Bay-will soon be Skyview City¡¯s most prosperousmercial district, without question."

    I frowned. "Nestling Crest Bay? Uncle Marcus, why are you so certain? I haven¡¯t heard of any new developments there."

    Instead of answering, he pointed to Skke District. "Once Nestling Crest Bay develops, this entire area, especially Skke District... if you can partner with Samuel Griffin, you absolutely won¡¯t lose."

 Chapter 73: Bonds and Business

    <h4>Chapter 73: Bonds and Business</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I walked into the main house just as William finished his calligraphy practice. The old man¡¯s face lit up when he spotted me, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine delight.

    "Annie! What a pleasant surprise. It¡¯s been a while, hasn¡¯t it? You must be keeping busy."

    I shot Marcus a sideways nce, something clicking in my mind. *He lied about William inviting me to dinner.* The realization sent a sh of irritation through me, but I maintained myposure, offering William a warm smile.

    "Yes, it¡¯s been hectictely. Just returned from a business trip," I replied, smoothly hiding my annoyance at Marcus¡¯s little deception.

    I decided to let go of Marcus¡¯s white lie and naturally shifted to business matters. With the Murphys, I never felt the need to filter my professional concerns.

    "Thepetition in physical products is fierce these days, and online sales aren¡¯t any easier," I sighed, feeling the weight of my responsibilities.

    Especially for Phoenix project¡¯s biotech products-they¡¯re not cheap, and sales have been declining quarter after quarter. The R&D team is getting anxious too. Declining sales could mean R&D budget cuts."

    William¡¯s eyes sparkled with wisdom.

    "Aren¡¯t influencer endorsements trendy now? Have you tried that?" He waved me over. "Come sit down. It¡¯s getting cold¡ªlet¡¯s have some hot pot to warm up."

    I was touched by his thoughtfulness, noticing the butler had prepared all the ingredients, even mixing the dipping sauce exactly how I liked it.

    The feeling of being remembered, being cared for, spread a gentle warmth through my chest.

    We had barely settled in when Catherine appeared, drawn by the aroma. The moment she walked in Einstein the parrot squawked "Troublemaker!" at her, making me bite back a smile.

    "This stupid bird can¡¯t tell beautiful women apart, always mistaking me for you," Catherine pouted, thenined, "Having hot pot without inviting me? I¡¯m starting to think you¡¯re the real Murphy granddaughter here."

    William gave his actual granddaughter a disapproving look. "Who¡¯s the one sleeping until noon every day?"

    "I¡¯m very diligent now, thank you very much," Catherine protested, her voice filled with indignation. "I go to the office almost daily, and once my newpany¡¯s renovations areplete, I¡¯ll be building my career too!"

    "Yes, yes, ambition is good. You¡¯re all excellent children," William said kindly, treating us with equal affection.

    I felt a twinge of envy at Catherine¡¯s energy but quickly steered the conversation back to business. "We¡¯ve tried online promotion too, but the results were underwhelming. We don¡¯t have the brand influence ofrgerpanies. Consumers trust established names more." My voice carried a note of defeat.

    Marcus casually picked up the serving chopsticks and selected a piece of beef.

    "Perhaps you could film a documentary about the development process?"

    He ced the beef in my bowl without thinking. The casual intimacy of the gesture made my heart skip.

    I turned the idea over in my mind, excitement gradually building.

    "Marcus, do you also study current content marketing trends?" I couldn¡¯t help asking, curious about his knowledge in this area.

    "Just the basics," he replied simply, but his modest answer sparked something in me.

    The more I considered it, the more viable the concept seemed. My enthusiasm ignited like dry kindling catching fire. "Our previous promotions only showcased the final products. Despite detailed exnations, consumers don¡¯t truly understand their value. The Phoenix project¡¯s essence is innovative technology-its potential to transform lives. You can¡¯t see that just by looking at finished products."

    As I spoke, determination solidified within me. A long-absent sense of drive and hope surged through my chest. I hurriedly apologized to the three of them, then stepped aside to make a call, immediately arranging for my team to implement this new approach.

    Catherine¡¯s POV

    "Anna reminds me of myself when I was young," Grandfather William said, his voice carrying that familiar note of affection. "That same fire, that same determination."

    "Just wait," I dered, setting my teacup down with perhaps a touch more force than necessary. "I¡¯m going to follow Anna¡¯s path and be the first female powerhouse in the Murphy family."

    Grandfather¡¯sugh rumbled through the elegant sitting room, deep and knowing. "The first? I wouldn¡¯t be so certain, my dear."

    I blinked, confusion temporarily discing my confidence. Who could he possibly be referring to?

    The slight shift in Grandfather¡¯s gaze answered my unspoken question. He was looking past me, toward where Anna stood at the far end of the room, phone pressed to her ear as she handled some business matter with her usual efficiency.

    Understanding dawned on me like sunrise warm and illuminating rather than harsh or threatening. Grandfather already viewed Anna as a future member of the Murphy family, suggesting a developing rtionship between her and Uncle Marcus. This realization didn¡¯t bring the sting of jealousy I might have expected.

    Instead, I felt a wave of admiration for my friend.

    I turned to Uncle Marcus, who¡¯d been silently observing our exchange. "If Anna bes the first female powerhouse in the Murphy family, I¡¯m happy to concede that position."

    There wasn¡¯t a trace of envy in my voice, only sincere respect. Anna had earned her ce in our family¡¯s esteem through sheer brilliance and determination.

    Uncle Marcus studied me with those prating eyes that always made me feel like he was reading every thought in my head. "What do you want, Catherine? Just say it."

    My heart skipped a beat at this unexpected opening. I immediately shifted into my slightly ttering tone, the one I reserved for serious business discussions.

    "Uncle Marcus, if you ever have any business opportunities, please remember me." I tried to sound confident yet humble. "I¡¯d really appreciate your support."

    He continued his unnerving assessment, those dark eyes never wavering. After what felt like an eternity, he simply stated, "There¡¯s a profitable project avable right now."

    My eyes widened, excitement bubbling up inside me. "What is it?"

    "The Skke District project."

    I frowned, confusion recing my initial enthusiasm. "But I was already nning to invest in the Skke project to help Anna if she needed additional funds."

    As if summoned by the mention of her name, Anna rejoined our group, having finished her call. "Uncle Marcus is suggesting Catherine invest in Skke?" She caught the tail end of our conversation, one eyebrow raised in question.

    I turned to her, spreading my hands.

    "Anna, I was already nning to help you if you needed funds. What¡¯s the difference?"

    "It¡¯s different," Uncle Marcus replied cryptically, taking a sip of his tea.

    "Why is it different?" Anna and I asked in unison, exchanging nces.

    Grandfather William couldn¡¯t contain himself any longer. He leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with that familiar gleam of business acumen.

    "You two brilliant yet naive girls!" he eximed, shaking his head with affectionate exasperation. "If Catherine invests personally in Anna¡¯s project, it only eases some financial pressure. But if she invests through her ownpany, she¡¯ll have the entire Murphy family backing her." He looked between us expectantly. "Do you understand now?"

    The lightbulb went off in my head. *Of course*. This wasn¡¯t just about money ¡ªit was about leverage, influence, and strategic alliance. The difference between a personal favor and a powerful business partnership.

    I gave both men an enthusiastic thumbs up. "The older generation really knows their stuff! I¡¯ve learned so much from both of you."

    Then I turned to Anna, friendship and loyalty shining in my eyes. I reached out and squeezed her hand firmly.

    "Darling, when mypany officiallyunches, my first contract will be with you."

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "Agreed," I replied, aplex wave of emotions washing over me.

    The simple word belied the significance of what had just happened. The same investment under a different name changed everything.

    While Phillip Murphy had publicly expressed disinterest in Skke District, Catherine¡¯s involvement meant something entirely different. My pulse quickened as realization dawned.

    This arrangement essentially positioned the Murphy family as my ally. If I partnered with Samuel Griffin, that calcting bastard would think twice before trying to take advantage of me. Even the Simpson family would need to tread carefully.

    I nced up, identally meeting Marcus¡¯s prating gaze. My heart skipped a beat. This was clearly his doing-securing me a powerful ally.

    He¡¯d orchestrated this effortlessly, like moving a chess piece into the perfect position.

    Truthfully, I¡¯d considered simr approaches, but I valued my rtionship with the Murphy family too deeply. I could ept a favor from Catherine, but I didn¡¯t want to drag her into potential trouble. Using the Murphy family connection felt exploitative. I could handle financial losses, but damaging my rtionship with Catherine and her family? That was unthinkable.

    But now, with the Murphy family themselves suggesting the arrangement, and Marcus confidently assuring me Skke wouldn¡¯t lose money, I was genuinely thrilled about partnering with Catherine.

    After dinner, I personally poured tea for everyone, gathering my courage to ask, "Uncle Marcus, how long will you be staying this time?"

    Marcus looked at me, his eyes unfathomable. "I¡¯m leaving tonight."

    William snorted beside him. "Marcus just has too much money to burn."

    "So I shouldn¡¯te back for Thanksgiving?" Marcus countered smoothly.

    William seemed unconcerned, his tone knowing. "What does it matter to me whether you return? Feel free not to."

    Marcus¡¯s response was brief but loaded with meaning. "I can¡¯t do that."

    Everyone¡¯s eyes shifted to me. I felt my scalp tingle with sudden self-consciousness and quickly sipped my tea to mask my difort. I didn¡¯t dare speak again.

    --

    The Sapphire Sky Hotel¡¯s top-floor restaurant offered a stunning night view of Skyview City, but I barely noticed it. I stared into my water ss. lost in thought. Rachel, unaware of my ns, had ordered wine for me.

    I¡¯d only learned that afternoon about pregnancy preparation requirements¡ª no smoking, no alcohol, no medications. I¡¯d previously known nothing about pregnancy, and remembering the cocktails I¡¯d had at Paisley¡¯s party, I worried about potential effects. My anxiety mounted by the minute.

    At ten o¡¯clock, my phone vibrated.

    [Not here yet?)

    [Coming up now.]

    I took a deep breath, finished my lemon water, and headed for Room 3303.

    The room was dark when I entered, illuminated only by the city lights filtering through the partially opened curtains. I didn¡¯t need light to find my way-we¡¯d done this dance before.

    The familiar scent of his cologne wrapped around me,forting yet exciting.

    His touch was different tonight¡ª slower, more deliberate. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the sensation.

    "You¡¯re so tense tonight," he murmured, his voice low and sensual enough to make my bones melt.

    I held his head close, my heartbeat racing, breathing uneven. I¡¯d carefully calcted using methods I¡¯d learned online these days were my fertile period. I wondered if my n would seed.

    "I need to ask you something," I ventured breathlessly.

    He responded with a soft "Hmm?"

    "No more smoking, and no... no more drinking," I managed between shallow breaths, my skin already covered with a thin sheen of sweat.

    "Alright," he agreed quietly, his voice carrying unwavering determination.

    Later, as wey entangled in sheets, my thoughts drifted to the irony of my situation. Here I was, deliberately trying to get pregnant by a man whose face I¡¯d never seen clearly, all to avoid the marriage pressures from my family and theplications of three men pursuing me. My life had be a surreal melodrama.

    - - -

    The next morning, my phone wouldn¡¯t stop buzzing. Samuel Griffin had called three times before I finally answered while reviewing documents in my office.

    "What¡¯s your game, Shaw?" His voice held that familiar sharp edge. "Any idea who our mystery opponent might be?"

    I kept my tone neutral. "I¡¯m just as curious as you are."

    After Samuel hung up, Rachel approached with renovation updates for old massion. I only half-listened, my mind upied with thetest development: the Skke District auction date had been announced, and the businessmunity¡¯s reaction was strangely subdued. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, waiting.

    Later that afternoon, Catherine called to discuss the situation.

    "They¡¯re all keeping their cards close," I said, sipping water andughing softly. "Everyone¡¯s nning something big."

    Catherine sounded excited. "Wonder who¡¯ll make the first move."

    I changed the subject. "Are you going to the Porter family¡¯s birthday party in a couple days?"

    She sighed dramatically. "Of course.

    There are at least two birthday parties every month, plus five or six other events. I barely have time to shop anymore."

 Chapter 74: The Portersâ€™ Party

    <h4>Chapter 74: The Porters¡¯ Party</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I stood at the entrance of the Porter mansion, cradling an elegantly wrapped gift box in my arms. We stepped into the mansion¡¯s grand foyer, immediately enveloped by the warm glow of crystal chandeliers.

    "Anna! Catherine!" Doris Porter¡¯s voice carried across the room as she approached us, arms outstretched in greeting. Her champagne-colored gownplemented her warmplexion perfectly, making her appear at least a decade younger than her fifty years.

    "Happy birthday, Mrs. Porter," I said, offering the gift with a genuine smile.

    Despite theplexities with Logan, I¡¯d always been fond of his mother.

    "Catherine and I hope you¡¯ll love this."

    "Oh, you girls are too sweet," she gushed, epting the package. "And please, how many times must I remind you to call me Doris? ¡¯Mrs. Porter¡¯ makes me feel ancient!"

    As Doris excused herself to greet other arriving guests, I automatically slipped into hostess mode-a habit from years of attending such functions. I began assisting with drink distribution, making introductions between guests who hadn¡¯t met, and ensuring conversations flowed smoothly. It was a role I could perform on autopilot, leaving my mind free to observe.

    I caught sight of Samuel entering again with Nora on his arm. The slight hush that fell over the nearby guests wasn¡¯t lost on me. Samuel carried himself with the same calcted confidence as always.

    "Ms. Shaw," Nora approached meter by the refreshment table, her voice soft but determined. "I wanted to apologize ¡ªI¡¯ve cleaned your wrap and meant to return it. I¡¯ve been feeling unwelltely. Perhaps we could have dinner sometime? I¡¯d love to thank you properly."

    I noticed how she nervously twisted her clutch in her hands, how desperately she seemed to crave connection in a room where most viewed her with thinly veiled contempt. The social dynamics of Skyview City could be brutally isting.

    "Please, it¡¯s just a wrap," I replied, keeping my tone light. "You could have simply had it delivered to Shaw Corp. As for dinner, I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m swamped with year-end business.

    Perhaps after Thanksgiving, when things calm down, we could meet for tea instead?"

    Relief flooded her features at my suggestion. As Nora rejoined Samuel, I spotted the Walker brothers making their entrance. My muscles tensed involuntarily. If Sawyer encountered Nora here, it would create exactly the kind of drama I¡¯d hoped to avoid tonight.

    Before I could make my own strategic retreat, Joseph Walker had already spotted me. As he approached, his eyes sparkled with mischief-the way they always did when he was about to say something provocative.

    "Anna," he said, leaning casually against a pir beside me. "Has your uncle¡¯ Marcus been back in the country recently?"

    My spine stiffened immediately. "Mr. Walker, regarding Marcus¡¯s whereabouts, shouldn¡¯t you be asking the Murphy family? Why are you asking me?"

    I narrowed my eyes, maintaining a neutral expression despite the heat creeping up my neck. "I¡¯m sure whatever gossip you¡¯re fishing for would be far more entertaining than the truth."

    He chuckled, raising his ss in salute before mercifully moving on to torment some other guest.

    From across the room, I caught Sawyer¡¯s cold stare. I met his look evenly for a moment before deliberately turning away. Whatever history they shared, his treatment of Nora revealed a cruelty I couldn¡¯t respect.

    The evening stretched on endlessly. By the third hour, my feet were screaming in protest against the high heels I¡¯d chosen. I retreated to a quieter corner, sinking gratefully onto a settee.

    "That¡¯s what you get for wearing those killer heels," Catherine teased, joining me with two fresh champagne flutes.

    "The party¡¯s barely started and you¡¯re already suffering."

    I epted the offered drink, taking a small sip. "Beauty is pain, or so they say. Though I¡¯m starting to question my life choices."

    "Speaking of questionable choices," Catherine nodded subtly toward Logan, who was making his way through the crowd toward us. "Your admirer approaches."

    Before I could respond, Logan stood before us, a concerned expression on his face. "You¡¯ve been on your feet all night," he observed, his eyes falling to my shoes. "Wait here."

    He disappeared before I could protest, returning momentster with a pair of white block-heeled leather shoes that looked suspiciously like my size.

    "Don¡¯t move," he instructed, kneeling before me. His hands gently removed my heels one by one. "These should be morefortable."

    When I realized how intimate this gesture appeared to onlookers, I felt my cheeks flush. "Logan, I can do it myself..."

    But he¡¯d already slipped the ts onto my feet with practiced ease. Though I immediately felt relief, the public nature of this disy left me deeply ufortable. Around us, I could sense the spective nces, the knowing smiles, the whispered conversations.

    "Better?" he asked, standing again, his expression so genuinely concerned that it made my chest ache with guilt.

    "Much better. Thank you," I managed, forcing a smile while silently cursing the entire situation.

    After he walked away, Catherine raised an eyebrow. "Wow, that was intimate.

    This man actually remembers your shoe size."

    "I had no idea he felt this way until recently," I admitted. "How did I miss it?"

    "Because you were busy being that brilliant CEO of yours or obsessing over Jack?" Catherine suggested.

    "Meanwhile, Logan has been studying your every preference for years-how you take your coffee, which wines you prefer, even your damn shoe size."

    I groaned softly. "Don¡¯t remind me. I have no idea how to handle this."

    Before Catherine could respond, a familiar voice cut through our conversation. "Catherine, darling, why are you hiding back here? Your father is looking for you."

    Mary Simpson stood before us, elegant in navy blue, deliberately focusing her attention on Catherine while pretending I didn¡¯t exist.

    Catherine¡¯s smile turned razor-sharp.

    "I¡¯m hardly a child needing supervision, Aunt Mary. Perhaps you should check on Jack instead-isn¡¯t he usually trailing after you?"

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Mary¡¯s meticulously made-up face twitched with barely contained irritation as she addressed Catherine.

    "Catherine, you used to be such a sweet girl. Why is there always an edge to your words now?" Mary forced a smile that didn¡¯t reach her eyes. "I¡¯m your aunt¡ªI only want what¡¯s best for you. Dear, you¡¯re a Murphy heiress.

    You shouldn¡¯t get involved in just anyone¡¯s business. Some matters aren¡¯t for young people to meddle in."

    My eyebrow arched involuntarily. She wasn¡¯t even trying to hide the fact that she was ming me for corrupting Catherine. I was about to open my mouth to defend myself when Catherine beat me to it.

    "Was I ever sweet?" Catherine asked, her expression a perfect mask of innocence. "If I recall correctly, you used toin to my mother that I was spoiled, arrogant, and willful."

    She deliberately lowered her voice, yet loud enough for everyone nearby to hear: "Auntie, I¡¯m still single, you know? Could you not embarrass me in public? If you want to lecture me, could we wait until we get home? I think a young woman¡¯s reputation is quite important, don¡¯t you agree?"

    I suppressed myughter. When it came to passive-aggressive remarks, I was merely a novicepared to Catherine. Ironically, my increasingly sharp tongue was something I¡¯d learned from her. It was precisely because of our association that my once rtively soft personality had grown progressively tougher.

    Mary didn¡¯t dare risk beingbeled as someone who "damaged her own niece¡¯s reputation." With a darkened face, she left without another word.

    "She and George visited my parents yesterday," Catherine told me with an eye roll. "When that didn¡¯t work, they went to Grandfather William, who basically threw them out."

    I smiled wryly. "The Simpson family must be panicking, thinking were going to partner with Samuel."

    "Does this mean Skyview City¡¯s peaceful facade is about to break?" Catherine asked, excitement flickering in her eyes.

    I gave her a knowing smile.

    "Absolutely."

    As the evening continued, I found myself constantly avoiding alcohol. Mymitment to preparing for pregnancy meant no drinking.

    The air in the ballroom had be stifling. I needed some fresh air and quietly slipped toward the terrace. As I rounded a corner in a dimly lit hallway, I spotted Jack¡¯s assistant Pax whispering with someone. They immediately fell silent when they saw me, exchanging meaningful nces before parting ways.

    The night air on the terrace was a relief after the stuffiness indoors. I saw Samuel Griffin standing near the railing, Nora by his side.

    "Ms. Shaw, over here," Samuel gestured for me to join them.

    I pulled my coat tighter and walked toward them. "Mr. Griffin, Ms. Price" Suddenly, my foot caught on something-perhaps a loose floorboard, or something deliberately ced. Ipletely lost my bnce.

    Samuel¡¯s face transformed with horror.

    He dropped his ss and lunged toward me, but he was too far away. I crashed hard against the railing at the terrace¡¯s edge, the impact knocking the air from my lungs.

    "Look out!" "Boss!"

    Then came a sickening crack as the railing gave way beneath my weight.

    Before I could understand what was happening, I was falling.

    "Someone¡¯s fallen!" "Oh God, call security, quickly!"

    By some miracle, my hands caught the broken piece of railing. My entire body dangled over the edge, suspended six stories above another terrace below.

    "Boss, don¡¯t move! Hold tight!" Rachel shouted, her voice tight with panic.

    She turned to the gathering crowd:

    "Someone help, please!"

    I didn¡¯t dare move. Gathering my courage, I nced down. While it wasn¡¯t a direct fall to solid ground, the decorative lower terrace was still six floors below¡ªa fall that would likely be fatal.

    My arms burned from supporting my entire body weight. Every muscle screamed in protest.

    Through the pounding in my ears, Rachel¡¯s voice sounded distant:

    "Samuel, this isn¡¯t working. My boss doesn¡¯t have that kind of upper body strength. If she lets go, she¡¯ll fall."

    "We need rope, rope would work," someone suggested.

    "T¡¯l find security and get some rope," Nora said, immediately heading back inside.

    "Boss, hang on. The rope ising soon," Rachel said, her forehead glistening with sweat.

    I clenched my jaw so hard I thought my teeth might break: "You¡¯d better hurry. I can¡¯t... hold on... much longer."

    The winter night¡¯s bitter cold cut through my evening dress¡ªmy coat had fallen away in the chaos. My fingers were growing numb, my grip weakening second by second. I was suspended between life and death, with only my fading strength preventing me from falling.

    "The rope¡¯s here!" someone finally called out.

    I looked up to see Logan rushing forward with coiled rescue rope.

    Without hesitation, he tossed one end toward me.

    "Anna, grab the rope!" he shouted.

    The rope hung tantalizingly close, but reaching for it meant releasing one hand from its death grip on the railing. Facing certain death, my arms had gone almostpletely numb. I wasn¡¯t sure if I had enough strength left to make the switch.

    "I can¡¯t," I responded, my voice trembling, "my hands arepletely numb."

    "Annie, don¡¯t be afraid. Close your eyes. I¡¯ming to you." Logan¡¯s voice attempted reassurance, but I could hear the underlying fear.

    He began carefully climbing over the broken section of railing toward me.

    With each movement, the damaged metal shuddered. I couldn¡¯t contain a scream as the railing lurched downward. When Logan¡¯s weight fully pressed against it, the metal bent even further.

    My arms, already beyond their limit, began to give out. My fingers, bloodless and frozen, started slipping inch by inch from the rail.

    "I¡¯m falling," I cried out, watching in horror as my grip weakened. "I can¡¯t.

    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and

    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 75: The Proposal

    <h4>Chapter 75: The Proposal</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "Anna, grab my hand, quickly!"

    Logan¡¯s voice cut through the night air, filled with desperation. My wrist was caught in his grasp. I could see the veins in his forehead bulging as his entire body trembled with exertion.

    With thest of my strength, I reached out with my other hand and clutched his wrist in a death grip. "Logan... I... I can¡¯t hold on much longer..." My voice shook uncontrobly. In that terrifying moment, all I could think about was how devastated my mother and grandmother would be if anything happened to me.

    "Don¡¯t look down! Focus on my eyes," Loganmanded, his voice strained but determined. "I¡¯ve got you. I won¡¯t let you fall."

    I could feel his grip tightening on my wrist, the muscles in his arm straining against his tailored suit. The railing groaned ominously beneath ourbined weight, making my heart stop for a fraction of a second.

    Behind Logan, I dimly registered Rachel directing security personnel, Samuel barking orders, and Catherine¡¯s panicked face. Then, with a tremendous effort, Logan pulled me upward. The broken railing gave one final protest before I was hauled back over the edge, copsing onto the safety of the terrace.

    For a brief moment, I felt nothing but overwhelming relief. Then the world spun around me, darkness creeping in from the edges of my vision. Thest thing I remembered was Logan¡¯s concerned face hovering over mine as consciousness slipped away.

    - --

    "Annie? Sweetheart, can you hear me?"

    My mother¡¯s voice broke through the fog, drawing me back to consciousness.

    I tried to open my eyes, immediately wincing at the harsh hospital lighting.

    When my vision finally cleared, I saw Elizabeth¡¯s tearful face staring down at me, her elegant features etched with worry.

    "Mom?" My voice came out as a raspy whisper.

    "Oh thank God," she breathed, squeezing my hand gently. "You¡¯re awake. You scared me half to death, youngdy."

    I attempted a reassuring smile. "I¡¯m fine, see? Tough as nails..."

    When I tried to sit up, searing pain tore through both my shoulders, causing me to gasp and fall back against the pillows. "God... that hurts," I managed through clenched teeth.

    "Don¡¯t move," Dr. Porter-Oscar-said firmly, stepping into my field of vision.

    "You¡¯ve sustained significant injuries, Anna. Both arms have extensive muscle strain, and you¡¯ve torn cartge in both shoulders from supporting your entire body weight."

    "How bad is it?" I asked, trying to focus through the pain.

    "You¡¯ll need physical therapy, but with proper treatment, you should regain full mobility," Oscar replied professionally, though his eyes betrayed his concern. "You¡¯re extremely lucky-if Logan hadn¡¯t reached you when he did..."

    The memory of dangling six stories above the ground sent a fresh wave of panic through me.

    "Where is Logan? Is he alright?" I asked, suddenly remembering how he¡¯d risked his own safety to save me.

    "Right here," Logan answered from the doorway, his arm in a sling. "Just a dislocated shoulder and some scrapes.

    Nothing serious."

    His casual tone belied the severity of what he¡¯d done. I felt a sudden surge of gratitude so intense it brought tears to my eyes.

    "You saved my life," I whispered, meeting his gaze directly.

    He shrugged his good shoulder.

    "Anyone would have done the same."

    But we both knew that wasn¡¯t true.

    Not everyone would have risked their life the way he had.

    My mother patted my arm gently. "T¡¯ll go tell your grandmother you¡¯re awake. She¡¯s been worried sick."

    Once Margaret and Elizabeth had stepped out to speak with the doctor, Logan moved closer to my bedside.

    His expression had changed, bing more serious.

    "Anna, there¡¯s something you should know," he said, his voice low. "Oscar told me that the police examined the terrace railing. The bolts showed signs of deliberate tampering."

    A cold wave of dread washed over me.

    "You¡¯re saying... this wasn¡¯t an ident?"

    "T¡¯m saying someone wanted you to fall," Logan confirmed, his expression grim. "And I¡¯m concerned for your safety."

    My mind raced through potential suspects. Who would want me dead?

    The most obvious answer was connected to the Skke District project. But would someone really attempt murder over a business deal?

    "T¡¯ll find out who did this," Logan promised, his voice dropping to a dangerous timbre I¡¯d never heard from him before. "No one threatens you and gets away with it."

    The door opened again as Catherine burst in, her usual poisepletely abandoned. "Anna! Thank God you¡¯re okay!" She rushed to my bedside, her eyes red-rimmed from crying.

    "I¡¯m fine," I reassured her, though the pain in my shoulders suggested otherwise.

    "Someone tried to kill you," Catherine stated bluntly, her voice trembling with anger. "This has to be rted to Skke District."

    My gaze instinctively darted to the doorway, where I spotted Jack and Pax hovering uncertainly. Their presence immediately set off warning bells in my mind. I remembered seeing Pax whispering with someone in the hallway just before my fall.

    Catherine followed my line of sight and immediately bristled. "What are you doing here?"

    Jack stepped forward, his expression unusually serious. "I came as soon as I heard. Anna, are you alright?"

    "She nearly died," Catherine snapped before I could respond. "But I¡¯m sure that¡¯s of great concern to you."

    Jack¡¯s face hardened. "What exactly are you implying?"

    I carefully observed his reaction, searching for any hint of guilt or knowledge. But all I saw was genuine concern and anger at Catherine¡¯s suggestion.

    When my eyes met Jack¡¯s, I felt an unexpected certainty wash over me.

    Despite everything that had happened between us, I knew in my gut that he wouldn¡¯t try to kill me. He might be weak-willed and easily influenced, but he wasn¡¯t a murderer.

    Jack must have sensed my scrutiny, his expression shifting to one of hurt realization.

    "You suspect me?" he asked incredulously.

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Jack¡¯s question hung in the air, his face disying genuine hurt. The hospital room suddenly felt suffocatingly small, the morning light barely filtering through the half-drawn blinds.

    "I don¡¯t think you¡¯d try to kill me," I finally said, my voice hoarse from exhaustion. "But I saw Pax whispering with someone right before the ident."

    Logan, his arm secured in a sling, immediately stepped forward. "Your assistant was acting suspiciously before Anna fell. Care to exin that, Simpson?"

    Jack¡¯s expression hardened, but I could see the sh of confusion in his eyes.

    "I don¡¯t know what Pax was doing. He certainly wasn¡¯t plotting murder." His voice dropped almost to a whisper. "I would never hurt you, Anna. Despite everything... you know that."

    And the thing was, I did know. Jack Simpson had many ws - weakness, indecision, emotional cowardice - but he wasn¡¯t capable of attempted murder. The genuine concern in his eyes couldn¡¯t be faked.

    "I believe you," I said simply.

    Jack nodded, relief washing across his features. He moved toward the door but paused before leaving. "Get some rest, Anna." The softness in his voice was achingly familiar - a reminder of better days.

    After he left, the room fell into tense silence. Catherine paced by the window, her usualposure fractured by worry. Logan hadn¡¯t moved from his protective stance near my bed.

    "Logan, you should go home too," I said gently. "You need rest as much as I do. We can talk tomorrow."

    He hesitated, his good hand clenching slightly. "I¡¯ll stay in the guest room down the hall. Call if you need anything - anything at all."

    "Thank you," I said, the words feeling wholly inadequate for what he¡¯d done.

    "For everything today."

    Logan¡¯s smile was warm but wordless, his emotions transparent in his eyes.

    Something twisted painfully in my chest - gratitude mingled with guilt.

    How do you repay someone who risked their life for yours when you can¡¯t give them the one thing they truly want?

    After Logan left, Catherine sank into the chair beside my bed, her expression distant. I knew she was thinking about the implications of this attack.

    She sighed, rubbing her temples.

    "Someone tried to kill you, Anna. Over a business deal."

    "We don¡¯t know that for certain," I countered, though I didn¡¯t believe my own words.

    Catherine didn¡¯t bother responding.

    Instead, her gaze drifted to the door Logan had just exited through. "He could have died trying to save you."

    I followed her gaze, remembering how Logan had looked dangling over that broken railing. Not just his dislocated shoulder, but the bruises around his waist where the rescue rope had cut into him without any protective gear.

    The image made my throat constrict.

    "I know," I whispered.

    Daylight brought a parade of visitors.

    My mother and grandmother arrived first, each trying to hide their anxiety behind practicedposure. The quiver in Elizabeth¡¯s hand as she smoothed my nket betrayed her fear. Margaret¡¯s usual witty remarks were noticeably absent.

    Nora Price appeared mid-morning, wheeled in by a nurse. Her ankle was wrapped in apression bandage.

    "What happened?" I asked, genuinely concerned.

    "It¡¯s nothing," she assured me with a gentle smile. "I twisted it running for help."

    After my family left, I turned to her.

    "I¡¯m sorry you got hurt trying to help me."

    "Don¡¯t be ridiculous," Nora replied, her smile elegant despite her circumstances. "I¡¯m just d you¡¯re alright. This is nothing - it¡¯ll heal in a few days."

    Business intruded shortly after lunch.

    Despite the doctor¡¯s orders, I found myself propped up in bed, surrounded by urgent year-end matters that couldn¡¯t wait. Sean Smith stood silently by my door, his presence reassuring.

    Rachel efficiently rearranged my schedule to amodate recovery without sacrificing Shaw Corp¡¯s momentum.

    "Ms. Shaw, you really should be resting," the nurse admonished as she checked my IV.

    I smiled thinly. "Business doesn¡¯t stop for idents."

    When Logan returned in the afternoon, the room had emptied of business associates. He surveyed the scattered papers across my bed with a frown.

    "You¡¯re really nning to work this afternoon, aren¡¯t you?" he asked.

    I offered a tired smile. "What choice do I have? It¡¯s year-end. Aren¡¯t you busy too?"

    "Meetings back-to-back, dealersing in. It¡¯s hectic," Logan admitted.

    He gestured to his injured arm with a wry smile. "At least I have one good arm left - better than your situation."

    My gaze dropped to my immobilized shoulders. "Logan, you didn¡¯t have to do what you did. You¡¯re the future of the Porter family. If something had happened to you because of me, I couldn¡¯t face your parents."

    Logan looked at me with an intensity that made my heart skip. "Annie, I only wish I could do more for you."

    "I don¡¯t need you to do anything for me. I¡¯m fine," I said, trying to lighten the mood.

    "Fine?" Logan¡¯s voice hardened. "You nearly died. And who knows how many people have their eyes on Shaw Corp¡¯s assets and your family¡¯s historic building in Skke District." He sighed. "Anna, please let me help you."

    I stared at him, puzzled. "How?"

    "Our families should unite. Marriage."

    The word knocked the air from my lungs.

    "T¡¯ll sign any prenup you want," Logan continued earnestly. "I won¡¯t restrict your freedom. I won¡¯t touch a penny of Shaw Corp. Even our children, boy or girl, can take the Shaw surname. I just want to be by your side, support you, ease your burdens. Before, when you loved Jack, I stepped back because I saw he made you happy. Anna, now I want to be selfish."

    I stared at him,pletely speechless.

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 Chapter 76: His Vow

    <h4>Chapter 76: His Vow</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Children. Marriage. Prenups. The words swirled in my head like debris in a tornado. Not even twenty-five years old, and already I¡¯d been through a divorce, nearly died in a suspicious "ident," and now faced a second marriage proposal. Most people my age were still figuring out their career paths or enjoying carefree rtionships. Instead, I was running a corporation, navigating treacherous business deals, and apparently collecting marriage proposals like some people collected shoes.

    I drew in a deep breath, wincing as the movement sent fresh pain through my shoulders.

    "Logan," I began gently, "thank you for valuing me so highly, but I can¡¯t ept your feelings."

    His expression didn¡¯t change. "Why not?"

    The simple question deserved an honest answer. "Because I don¡¯t have those kinds of feelings for you. A marriage without love wouldn¡¯t be fair to you."

    "I don¡¯t need fair," he insisted, leaning forward in his chair. "I told you, I just want to take care of you, make sure you¡¯re never alone when things get difficult."

    I shook my head, careful not to disturb my injuries. "I can¡¯t ept that. You have your parents, the entire Porter family. Call me selfish, but I don¡¯t want to be indebted to anyone."

    Logan¡¯s expression darkened. "Is it because of Jack Simpson?"

    "No," I said firmly. "That¡¯s over."

    "Then is it Marcus Murphy? Or Samuel Griffin?" His tone carried an usatory edge that made my stomach clench.

    My brow furrowed involuntarily. I didn¡¯t appreciate the implication that I was somehow collecting men, or that my refusal had to be because of another man. The suggestion stung more than I expected.

    Logan must have noticed my expression because he immediately backtracked. "I¡¯m sorry, Anna. I didn¡¯t mean it like that."

    "I don¡¯t me you," I replied tly, knowing the conversation had reached an impasse. The tension in the room was palpable, making the antiseptic smell seem even more suffocating.

    Logan stood up, his expression a mixture of disappointment and resignation. "I¡¯ll check on youter.

    Get some rest."

    The door had barely closed behind him when it swung open again. I looked up, expecting a nurse or perhaps my mother, only to find Marcus Murphy standing in the doorway. My heart performed an unexpected somersault in my chest.

    "Uncle Marcus?" I blinked in surprise.

    "What are you doing here?"

    His prating gaze swept over me, taking in the medical equipment, the braces stabilizing my shoulders, and probably the lingering distress on my face from my conversation with Logan.

    "What happened?" he demanded, stepping fully into the room. "Tell me everything."

    "It¡¯s nothing serious, just muscle strain," I said dismissively, suddenly feeling exhausted by the parade of visitors and their intense emotions. My shoulders screamed in protest, making a mockery of my casual tone.

    Marcus turned to Rachel, who had appeared silently behind him. "You tell me."

    I cut in before Rachel could speak.

    "Didn¡¯t Catherine already tell you I was injured? Didn¡¯t she exin what happened?"

    "She didn¡¯t have time to exin in detail," Marcus replied coolly. "This wasn¡¯t an ident, was it?"

    His question hung in the air, heavy with implication. Rachel and Peter exchanged nces before Rachel cleared her throat. "Perhaps we should step outside for a moment."

    Once they left, closing the door behind them, Marcus turned his attention fully on me. "What did Logan Porter want?"

    I chose silence, unwilling to navigate yet another emotionally charged conversation.

    "Did he confess to you?" Marcus pressed, his tone shifting to something harder.

    I maintained my silence, but I could feel my emotions beginning to build, a pressure behind my eyes that threatened to spill over.

    Marcus¡¯s face darkened. "I told you from the beginning that I would help you. You don¡¯t need to partner with anyone, don¡¯t need to y these dangerous games with these people.

    It¡¯s just a piece ofnd, and you¡¯d rather put yourself in danger than work with me. Is working with me really that repulsive to you?"

    His words hit me like a physical blow.

    I looked up sharply, tears welling in my eyes despite my best efforts to control them. Marcus had never spoken to me so harshly before, and thebination of physical pain, emotional exhaustion, and now his evident frustration was almost too much to bear.

    I blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall. My fingers clutched at the thin hospital nket, knuckles turning white with the effort of maintainingposure. In the sterile silence of the hospital room, my vulnerability felt magnified a hundredfold, though I tried desperately to hide it.

    Marcus stood tall beside my bed, his powerful presence filling the entire room. His face was aplex mixture of anger and concern as he watched me struggle against my emotions. I felt caught between gratitude for his obvious worry and resistance to depending on anyone, even him.

    Marcus¡¯s POV

    I watched as tears welled up in Anna¡¯s eyes, her fingers clutching the thin hospital nket until her knuckles turned white. The sterile hospital room suddenly felt too small, too suffocating.

    The sight of her-normally soposed and confident-reduced to this vulnerable state because of my harsh words made something twist painfully in my chest.

    What the hell was I doing?

    When Catherine called to tell me about Anna¡¯s "ident," I¡¯d dropped everything and flown back immediately. By the time I¡¯dnded in Skyview City, my imagination had conjured images of Anna broken beyond repair.

    Seeing her alive, bruised but whole, should have been a relief. Instead, walking into the hospital and finding Logan Porter exiting her room with that defeated expression had ignited something dark and possessive inside me. All my carefully maintained control had crumbled.

    And now she was fighting back tears, refusing to let me see her cry.

    "I shouldn¡¯t have spoken to you like that," I said, my voice dropping to a gentleness that surprised even me. "My attitude was inappropriate."

    She looked up, clearly caught off-guard by my sudden change in tone. The surprise in her eyes made me realize how rarely I showed this side of myself to anyone, let alone to her.

    "You were worried," she replied, her voice slightly hoarse. "I understand."

    I moved closer to her bed, carefully lowering myself to sit beside her without disturbing her injured shoulders.

    "That¡¯s no excuse for talking to you that way," I admitted.

    In one smooth motion, I reached out and gently pulled her against my chest, mindful of her injuries. I felt her stiffen instinctively, her body tense with surprise, but I didn¡¯t let go. She needed this-needed to feel protected, even if she¡¯d never admit it.

    "Are you scared?" I asked quietly, my lips close to her ear.

    For a long moment, she was silent.

    Then, so softly I almost missed it:

    "Terrified."

    The single word, spoken with such raw honesty, pierced through me like a knife. Anna Shaw, who faced down business rivals and family drama without flinching, was admitting fear.

    The significance of this wasn¡¯t lost on me.

    My hand moved to stroke her hair gently, an instinctive gesture offort. "Give me three days," I promised, my voice hardening with determination. "I¡¯ll find who did this to you."

 Chapter 77: Beneath the Mask

    <h4>Chapter 77: Beneath the Mask</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "Thank you, Uncle Marcus," I finally said, regaining myposure and realizing how childish my emotional reaction had been. Marcus was right I¡¯d rejected his help, then felt hurt when he pointed it out. I was behaving like a petnt teenager rather than the CEO of Shaw Corp.

    Marcus returned to his chair, seeming about to say something before choosing silence instead. He always knew when to speak and when to remain quiet. I appreciated that sensitivity, even if I wasn¡¯t ready to admit it.

    ---

    "Marcus? You¡¯re back again?" My mother¡¯s voice carried notes of surprise and barely concealed wariness when she spotted him at my side as I was wheeled out of the hospital. She quickly pulled me aside, whispering urgently: "Shouldn¡¯t you be staying in the hospital longer? Why is he here already? How did he even know you were being discharged today?"

    "The hospital is too noisy, and I can recover just as well at home," I replied, already nning my return to work. I couldn¡¯t possibly lie around in bed with these injuries; that wasn¡¯t who I was.

    Marcus exined politely: "I had some business matters to attend to, but when I heard Anna was hospitalized, I came to check on her." He made no move to enter the house, maintaining a respectful distance.

    ---

    Inside, my mother¡¯s concern was evident: "He¡¯s not just back because of you, is he?" Her voice was filled with anxiety.

    I had no answer, only feeling my headache intensify.

    "Why is Marcus Murphy suddenly so interested in you?" Mother fretted, her brow furrowed with worry. "Anna, don¡¯t you have any feelings for Logan?

    Think about it¡ªhe risked his life to save yours. Where else could you find such a man?" Her tone became pleading, "The Porter family has already expressed interest in joining our families. Your grandmother and I both think it makes perfect sense.

    What do you think?"

    Faced with my mother¡¯s marriage arrangements on top of everything else, my headache worsened considerably. "Mom, my arms hurt. I need to go to my room to rest," I used my injuries as an excuse to escape this ufortable conversation.

    ---

    That afternoon, Oscar Porter visited.

    He¡¯d been assisting the police with their investigation. "We¡¯ve been reviewing the hotel surveince footage from the past week. Apart from Jack¡¯s assistant Pax acting somewhat suspiciously, everything else looks normal," he said wearily, frustration written across his face. "The police are now certain this wasn¡¯t an ident.

    Not only was the railing deliberately damaged, but the carpet that tripped you was also tampered with. And we found something strange."

    My heart sank as I cautiously asked, "What?"

    "While looking for evidence, the police discovered something odd about the wax used on the hotel stairs. Without carpeting, women in high heels would easily slip," Oscar exined.

    I frowned in confusion. "But what does that have to do with me? You said there was carpet on the stairs."

    Oscar shrugged, equally puzzled: "Not sure. One investigator just mentioned it casually. He said that type of wax isn¡¯t typically used in hotels. This is a high-end establishment,parable to Sapphire Sky Hotel. They shouldn¡¯t make mistakes like that. We just can¡¯t find the connection, so it seems strange."

    He handed me a card: "Compensation from the hotel."

    Without hesitation, I passed the card to Rachel. "Use this to buy some gifts for Ms. Price." I smiled slightly. "The hotel is quite unfortunate in this situation."

    Oscar made a skeptical sound.

    "Unfortunate? The police say, the cleaner the job, the moreplex the attempt. They left no traces. I¡¯m almost certain the hotel is involved¡ª possibly with inside help."

    Hearing all this, I felt lucky to be alive.

    While I knew little about the investigation, it was clear someone wanted to harm me, and that knowledge sent chills down my spine.

    Oscar yawned, having stayed up all night reviewing surveince footage:

    "I¡¯m exhausted. By the way, how¡¯s your ex-husband doing?"

    "You¡¯re the doctor, not me." I couldn¡¯t help wanting to kick him, though warmth spread through my chest. This was how we interacted-jokes masking deep friendship.

    Mother smiled: "Oscar, go rest in the guest room. You¡¯re too tired to drive safely."

    Watching Oscar casually walk toward the guest room brought a wave of nostalgia. As children, the three of us had been inseparable. The Porter parents were strict, so Logan and Oscar often stayed at our house, spending more than half their time with us.

    "How nice it would be if everything could remain that simple," I thought, watching Oscar¡¯s figure disappear down the hallway, longing for those uplicated times.

    Pax¡¯s POV

    I stood in the corner of the Simpson family¡¯s study, head bowed low, wishing I could dissolve into the expensive woodwork and disappear.

    The air in the room felt electrified with tension as Jack¡¯s shouting match with his father escted by the second.

    Their voices echoed off the high ceilings, making each usation sound twice as damning.

    "You actually suspect your own father?

    Have you lost your mind, Jack?" I risked a nce upward, watching George Simpson¡¯s face turn an rming shade of crimson as he snatched the pen holder from his desk and hurled it against the floor. The Mont nc pens scattered across the polished surface like expensive pickup sticks.

    "Get out! Get the hell out of my sight!"

    George roared, his voice reverberating through the cavernous study.

    Jack¡¯s expression darkened to something I¡¯d rarely seen in my decade working for him¡ªa cold, calcted fury that made my blood run cold.

    "I know you were hedging your bets," Jack said, his voice dangerously quiet.

    "Don¡¯t bother denying it. I just want to know one thing did you give Pax instructions behind my back?"

    At the mention of my name, my heart nearly stopped. I lowered my head further, feeling Jack¡¯s gaze cutting into me like a scalpel.

    George exhaled heavily, seeming to dete slightly. "Yes, I had contingency ns. I instructed you to reconcile with Anna while having Pax keep tabs on her movements. What choice did I have? You couldn¡¯t even win back your ex-wife. The future of Simpson Group might depend on this partnership!"

    Jack¡¯s attention shifted fully to me, his eyes boring into mine with such intensity I had to suppress a flinch.

    "Was Anna¡¯s fall your doing?"

    My throat constricted, panic rising in my chest as I hurried to exin.

    "Absolutely not, Mr. Simpson. Your father only asked me to monitor Ms. Shaw and Mr. Griffin¡¯s interactions.

    When I saw Samuel Griffin heading to the terrace, I instructed someone to listen in if Ms. Shaw followed. I would never-*never*-do anything to harm anyone."

    By the end, my voice had diminished to barely more than a whisper. In my heart, I knew the truth didn¡¯t matter anymore. After this, Jack would never trust me again. Ten years of loyal service, evaporated in an instant.

    ---

    Jack stormed out of the study, and I followed at a safe distance, my future crumbling with each step. In the hallway, Mary Simpson waited anxiously, her perfectly manicured hands fidgeting with her pearl ne. She opened her mouth to speak to Jack, but something in his expression made her think better of it.

    Instead, she turned to me, catching my sleeve as l passed.

    "Pax, what happened in there?" she whispered urgently.

    I forced my features into something resembling a professional smile, though it felt more like a grimace.

    "Mrs. Simpson, Mr. Simpson and Mr. George just had a minor disagreement about business strategy. Nothing serious."

    *Nothing serious for them, perhaps.

    But catastrophic for me.*

    Ten years of unwavering loyalty. From the day I graduated Princeton, I¡¯d followed Jack Simpson, working my way up from a standard assistant to his right-hand man. I¡¯d been the most trusted person in his inner circle, with a future as bright as the chandeliers hanging in the Simpson mansion. And now it was all gone, Jack¡¯s parting words making it clear I should clean out my desk by morning.

 Chapter 78: The Weight of Secrets

    <h4>Chapter 78: The Weight of Secrets</h4>

    Jack¡¯s POV

    "Anna Shaw ispletely unsuitable for you, Jack!" Mother spat, her perfectly manicured fingers clenching the armrest of her chair. "A divorced woman with a tarnished reputation.

    Her private life is a mess! How could someone like that possibly re-enter respectable society as your wife?" I watched her face contort with disgust at the mere mention of Anna¡¯s name.

    This wasn¡¯t new-Mother had always viewed Anna as beneath us, unworthy of the Simpson name.

    "She¡¯s nothing but trouble, always has been," she continued, her voice dropping to a venomous hiss. "That girl has been a gue on this family since the moment you brought her home. Everything was perfect before she came along."

    "That¡¯s enough, Mary," my father said, his voice quiet but leaving no room for argument. "Your opinion on this matter is irrelevant. If Jack wants Anna back, that¡¯s his business."

    Mother¡¯s head snapped toward him, her eyes widening with betrayal. "How can you say that? After everything that¡¯s happened? After what she¡¯s done to our family name?"

    Father set his ss down with deliberate calm and fixed Mother with a stare that made even me ufortable.

    "What Anna Shaw has done," he said, "is demonstrate remarkable business acumen and resilience. She single- handedly saved Shaw Corp from copsing after her father¡¯s death.

    She¡¯s navigated corporate politics that would crush most seasoned executives, let alone someone her age."

    I couldn¡¯t hide my surprise. Father had never openly praised Anna before, certainly not in front of Mother.

    He turned to me, his expression softening slightly. "Your mother doesn¡¯t understand what¡¯s at stake here."

    The implication hung heavy in the air between us. Skke District. The unspoken center of every business conversation in our family for months now.

    "This is about Skke District," Father finally said, turning back to Mother.

    "And you¡¯d better get your priorities straight. Anna Shaw might be our best chance at salvaging this situation."

    Mother fell silent, her lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval.

    "I¡¯m going to the police station," I announced, rising from my seat.

    ---

    Twenty minutester, I was navigating my car through Skyview City¡¯s nearly empty streets. Thete-night traffic lights changed from red to green, casting alternating glows across the dashboard.

    If someone in the Simpson family wasn¡¯t behind Anna¡¯s near-fatal fall, then who? The most obvious alternative was Samuel Griffin-the man she was supposedly partnering with on the Skke project. But that made no sense. Samuel stood to gain far more with Anna alive than dead.

    The city seems calm, but underneath it is turbulent. It is clear that there is also a pair of ck hands behind the situation in the entire Skke District is constantly changing.

    Then who?

    Marcus¡¯s POV

    I stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office in Murphy Estate, watching the dawn break over Skyview City. The early morning light painted the skyline in shades of gold and amber, but I couldn¡¯t appreciate the beauty. My mind was consumed with thoughts of Anna Shaw dangling from that broken railing, her life hanging by a thread.

    The memory made my jaw clench involuntarily. I¡¯d seen the surveince footage. The near-perfect execution of the attempt suggested a professional hand. This wasn¡¯t an ident or a spur-of-the-moment attack-someone had carefully nned to kill her. The realization sent ice through my veins.

    "Sir, we¡¯ve just received intel that Jack had a major fight with George. Based on our investigation, Anna¡¯s fall likely wasn¡¯t the Simpsons¡¯ doing," Peter Reed reported, standing rigidly before my desk, his expression grave.

    I nodded, unsurprised. "I already know it wasn¡¯t George Simpson."

    Peter blinked, momentarily thrown off bnce. "You do?"

    "George Simpson is many things-ruthless, calcting, maniptive-but he¡¯s not stupid," I exined, turning away from the window. "Anna Shaw is still valuable to him alive. He wouldn¡¯t risk everything he¡¯s built on a murder that would inevitably lead back to his family."

    My fingers drummed against the polished wood of my desk as I considered the implications. If not the Simpsons, then who? The list of people who might benefit from Anna¡¯s death was ufortably long, and the thought made my stomach twist into a cold knot.

    "Sir, then who could it be?" Peter asked, voicing the question that had kept me awake all night.

    I locked eyes with him, feeling a rare sensation of uncertainty creep through me. "I don¡¯t know."

    Those three words tasted bitter on my tongue. I, who prided myself on always being two steps ahead, was stumbling in the dark. The realization made my blood simmer with quiet rage. Whoever was behind this had managed to staypletely in the shadows, and that made them infinitely more dangerous.

    Peter studied my face carefully before asking, "Sir, when do you n to return to Europe?"

    "Not until I find out who¡¯s behind this," I replied without hesitation.

    Peter nodded, seeming to read my thoughts. "Since you¡¯re worried about Ms. Shaw, why not take her with you?

    Everyone here is after what she has¡ª herpany, the properties. If she leaves, they won¡¯t know who to target."

    His suggestion hit me like a bolt of lightning. So simple, yet so perfect.

    Remove Anna from the equation entirely, and the predators would be left directionless. My mind raced, calcting possibilities and potential obstacles with machine-like precision.

    ---

    Three hourster, I stood on the doorstep of Shaw Estate, a carefully selected gift box tucked under my arm.

    Margaret Shaw weed me with surprising warmth, her wise eyes studying me with undisguised curiosity. Elizabeth¡¯s reception was considerably cooler, her smile not quite reaching her eyes as she led me to the sitting room where Anna was already waiting.

    "Uncle Marcus," she greeted me, surprise evident in her voice. "I wasn¡¯t expecting you."

    "I wanted to see how you were recovering," I replied, cing the gift box on the table beside her. "And to speak with all of you about something important."

    Margaret poured tea, her movements graceful and deliberate. When she handed me a cup, our eyes met briefly, and I saw understanding dawn in hers. She knew this wasn¡¯t a casual visit.

    "What¡¯s on your mind, Marcus?" she asked directly, settling into her chair.

    I took a measured breath, arranging my thoughts carefully. Directness would serve me best here.

    "I¡¯d like Anna toe to Europe with me," I stated, watching their expressions closely.

    The statementnded like a bomb in the quiet room. Anna¡¯s teacup froze halfway to her lips, her eyes widening.

    Elizabeth gasped audibly, color draining from her face.

    "You want Annie to go to Europe with you?" Margaret repeated, her voice carefully neutral.

    Before Anna could speak, Elizabeth cut in sharply. "That¡¯s out of the question! People would talk!" Her hands twisted in herp, knuckles white with tension. "Anna¡¯s reputation has already suffered enough. A trip to Europe with an unmarried man? The gossip would be unbearable."

    "I¡¯m not concerned with gossip," I replied evenly. "I¡¯m concerned with Anna¡¯s safety."

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 Chapter 79: Threads of Betrayal

    <h4>Chapter 79: Threads of Betrayal</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "Uncle Marcus, aren¡¯t you being a bit dramatic?" I locked eyes with him, silently pleading for him to read between the lines._Don¡¯t say these terrifying things in front of my family._ My heart raced as sweat formed on my palms. I was caught between fearing the truth and protecting my family from it.

    But Marcus seemed determined to make me ufortable. Ignoring my warning nce, he continued, "Anna¡¯s fall wasn¡¯t an ident. I can¡¯t leave her in America with a clear conscience.

    I¡¯m sure you¡¯re both equally concerned about her safety."

    Anger bubbled in my chest, but I couldn¡¯t express it. He knew that only if my grandmother and mother insisted would I agree to leave.

    "What? Not an ident?"

    Grandmother¡¯s face drained of color, her hands trembling visibly. My heart ached watching her fragility surface so suddenly.

    Mother¡¯s voice was nearly unrecognizable. "Annie, what¡¯s going on?" Her eyes filled with terror-exactly what I¡¯d hoped to prevent.

    shot Marcus a murderous re, my rage nearly consuming my rationality.

    Still, I forced a smile and tried to downy everything. "The police mentioned it might have been deliberate, but there¡¯s no concrete evidence yet. Grandma, Mom, don¡¯t worry. Even it someone is after our historical building, I¡¯ll just be more careful." I struggled to keep my voice steady despite my internal chaos.

    "No! Absolutely not!" Mother jumped to her feet, her panic palpable.

    Watching her pace anxiously before the sofa, my heart constricted painfully.

    Then she grabbed Marcus¡¯s hand with unexpected desperation. "Marcus, take Annie with you. Take her immediately."

    Grandmother and I froze in shock. My jaw literally dropped. "Mom?"

    Even more surprising, Mother called for Lily and ordered her to pack my bags right away.

    "It¡¯s not that serious. Uncle Marcus is just... exaggerating." I attempted a smile.

    Tears streamed down Mother¡¯s face, breaking my heart. "Nothing¡¯s an exaggeration. If anything happens to you, I couldn¡¯t bear to live."

    "We¡¯ll sell the historical building if we must. Your grandfather would understand," she continued.

    "Skke District-whoever wants it can have it."

    "Annie, listen to your mother. Either sell the building or go to Europe with Marcus." Her voice held unmistakable pleading.

    Grandmother sighed, "Annie, your mother is right."

    I inwardly groaned. This was exactly what I¡¯d feared would happen.

    ---

    After finally calming both women down, my throat was parched. I turned to Marcus, unable to hide my displeasure anymore. "Happy now?"

    I lowered my voice, tone icy. "Uncle Marcus, you overstepped." His raised eyebrow only irritated me further.

    "My grandmother and mother are emotionally vulnerable. They scare easily." Despite my fury, I controlled my voice. He¡¯d helped me too many times to deserve my full wrath.

    "I¡¯m not trying to frighten them," Marcus calmly poured two cups of tea.

    "I¡¯m stating facts."

    "I¡¯ll be more careful in the future," I said, wanting to change the subject.

    "The puppetmaster is difficult to guard against," he replied evenly.

    My interest piqued. "You also think it wasn¡¯t the Simpson family?"

    "Not this time. The future is uncertain."

    I was momentarily speechless.

    "I won¡¯t force you, but I can only stay in America for three days. I¡¯ll help find who¡¯s behind this attempt, but after that?" His concern was unmistakable.

    Understanding warmed me slightly. He genuinely worried about my safety.

    "Uncle Marcus, I¡¯ll be careful. Thank you for repeatedly flying back to America for me." My gratitude was sincere.

    ©`©`©`

    After lunch, I asked Rachel to help me dress for an outing-Mother¡¯s tears had be unbearable. Rachel¡¯s makeup skills were basic, just defining my eyebrows and applying lipstick, but the natural look suited me fine.

    Heading downstairs, I noticed Lily sorting through the shoe cab.

    Several pairs of shoes and boots, some brand new,y on the floor.

    "What¡¯s happening here?" I asked curiously.

    Lily smiled. "Mrs. Shaw asked me to remove all non-slip-resistant shoes.

    With your arms injured, she¡¯s worried about you falling again."

    Her words touched me deeply. "My mom always worries too much," I said softly, feeling the emotion rise in my throat.

    Then I noticed Lily cing the white chunky-heeled leather shoes Logan had given me into a box. "Those shoes have thick heels and are quitefortable," I protested.

    Lily turned the shoe over, showing me the sole. "Ms. Shaw, these aren¡¯t slip-resistant. This type of sole is extremely dangerous on hardwood or marble floors."

    "Is that so?" I froze, a thought suddenly forming in my mind... The next morning, Shaw Corp¡¯s top-floor officeonce my domain of effortlessmand-had transformed into an obstacle course of challenges.

    Every movement required calction.

    Every shift of my body sent pain radiating through my shoulders. The doctor had been clear: minimal movement, or risk permanent damage.

    Sean Smith sat at myputer, his fingers hovering hesitantly over the keyboard.

    "Ms. Shaw, this email from the European investors needs your personal attention." Scan said, ncing up with a questioning look.

    I shifted carefully in my seat, wincing as pain shot through my right shoulder. "Sean, I¡¯ve given you the passwords and authorization. You can handle the routine correspondence directly."

    Sean looked up, surprise and gratitude flickering across his face. "Thank you for trusting me with this, Ms. Shaw."

    "It¡¯s just a practical arrangement." I shifted the conversation away from the ufortable acknowledgment of vulnerability. "How is your father doing?"

    "The surgery went well. His condition is stable for now." Sean paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. "He said when he¡¯s released, he wants to thank you personally. He calls you his savior."

    "That¡¯s an exaggeration." I waved away the sentiment.

    Sean stood, automatically moving toward the coffee machine in the corner of my office. "Would you like some coffee?"

    "No coffee," I said quickly. "Just water is fine."

    I couldn¡¯t tell him the real reason¡ª that I suspected I might be pregnant, and had been obsessively researching what medications and substances to avoid. The painkillers and antibiotics I¡¯d been given in the hospital haunted me. What if they had already damaged the baby I¡¯d so deliberately tried to conceive?

    The thought sent a spike of anxiety through me, tightening my chest.

    Sean ced a ss of water on my desk, careful to position it within easy reach of my limited mobility.

    The office door swung open. Logan Porter strode in, his assistant trailing behind with a leather portfolio. Even with one arm still in a sling, Logan moved with confident purpose, his eyes immediately finding mine.

    "Anna," he greeted, his expression softening. "How are you feeling?"

    "Better than yesterday," I lied, forcing a smile. "What brings you here, Logan?"

    Logan gestured for his assistant to ce the portfolio on my desk. "This is more important."

    "What is this supposed to mean?" I asked, confusion rising as I studied his determined expression.

    Logan moved closer, opening the portfolio himself when he realized I couldn¡¯t easily reach for it. "Samuel Griffin isn¡¯t trustworthy, Anna. I want to partner with you on the Skke District development." His voice dropped slightly. "If Catherine joins us too, the three-way partnership should be solid enough."

    I stared at him in disbelief, then nced down at the documents he¡¯d presented. They outlined a substantial investment proposal¡ªfar more capital than I¡¯d expected the Porter family tomit to a single project.

    After skimming the figures, I couldn¡¯t help but ask, "Where did you get this kind of funding?"

 Chapter 80: Unseen Moves

    <h4>Chapter 80: Unseen Moves</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Logan¡¯s lips curved into an easy smile, his good arm casually draped over the back of the sofa across from my desk.

    "Don¡¯t worry about that. With Catherine Murphy joining in, this project looks promising. I¡¯m getting a great deal here, actually. You wouldn¡¯t deny me this opportunity, would you?"

    I returned his smile, feeling a wave of warmth mingled with concern. "That¡¯s not what I meant. Every investment carries risks. I just want you to be careful. Do your parents approve?"

    "Of course they do," Logan replied with a casual wave of his hand. "Doris said if the Murphy heiress is partnering with you, it can¡¯t be a mistake. She actually rushed me over here to sign before someone else takes the spot."

    I couldn¡¯t help butugh. In the past, I would have approached this with extreme caution. But now, with the Porter family showing interest in Skke District, bringing Logan on board didn¡¯t seem like a bad idea.

    Especially since his proposal clearly stated that the Porter family would invest without interfering, leaving decision-making power with Shaw Corp-it perfectly addressed my concerns, leaving me with few reasons to refuse.

    Yet after reviewing the agreement, I still hesitated to sign. I took a deep breath, deciding honesty was the best approach.

    "Logan, I need to be clear about something. You know I don¡¯t like mixing personal matters with business." I met his gaze directly, my tone serious.

    Logan joked, "I¡¯m not proposing marriage here. What are you afraid of?"

    My heart stuttered slightly, but I pressed on, determined to express what I truly felt. "I¡¯m not afraid. I treasure my rtionship with you and Oscar. You¡¯re like brothers to me.

    You¡¯ve both looked after me all these years, and having you in my life makes me truly happy."

    I looked at him sincerely. "Logan, thank you, truly."

    Logan pushed his sses up slightly, his eyes soft as he regarded me.

    "Annie, I¡¯m willing to do anything for you."

    His words sent a pang through my chest. It was precisely because I knew the sincerity behind them that I couldn¡¯t ept. I pushed the agreement back toward him. "That¡¯s why I can¡¯t sign this."

    Logan clearly froze, caught off guard.

    "Why not?"

    "As I said, I don¡¯t want to owe anyone favors," I stated firmly.

    Watching Logan lean back against the sofa, his expression turning forlorn, I felt my own heart sink. But I knew this was the right choice.

    "Anna, do you really need to draw such clear lines between us?" His voice carried unmistakable disappointment.

    "I¡¯m sorry, Logan." My voice was soft, filled with regret.

    After Logan left, Rachel approached my desk, clearly puzzled. "Ms. Shaw, didn¡¯t Marcus say the Skke District project was guaranteed to be profitable? Why not include Mr. Porter?"

    "How can any business be absolutely guaranteed to be profitable?" I sighed, still picturing Logan¡¯s dejected expression as he left. "He¡¯s staking the entire Porter family on this. How could I possibly repay such a huge favor?"

    Profit considerations aside, the weight of such an obligation was already giving me a headache. Logan and Doris¡¯s intentions were obvious¡ªI couldn¡¯t marry Logan, so it was better not to umte debts I couldn¡¯t repay.

    - --

    The afternoon brought Samuel Griffin to my office, also bearing an agreement. Like with Logan, I didn¡¯t sign.

    "Ms. Shaw clearly doesn¡¯t trust me," Samuel said self-deprecatingly, his expression slightly crestfallen. "I suppose I¡¯m getting my just deserts."

    No matter what he said, I held firm.

    Finally, Samuel gave up, tossing a bag to Rachel.

    "What¡¯s this?" I asked curiously.

    Samuel exined, "Someone asked me to deliver it to you."

    It was the coat I had lent to Nora. I thought to myself, it was just a coat, nothing I¡¯d been concerned about, but apparently Nora had remembered it all this time.

    Samuel added, "She also wants to thank you for your generous gift. She loves it and says you shouldn¡¯t have spent so much."

    I smiled. "I¡¯m d Ms. Price liked it.

    It was just a small token." Though I had absolutely no recollection of what gift I¡¯d supposedly sent her.

    Samuel quipped, "Then I¡¯ll wait until Mr. Murphy leaves before approaching Ms. Shaw again. At that time, I hope you won¡¯t disappoint me?"

    I responded politely, "Mr. Griffin, please believe that I¡¯ve genuinely wanted to coborate with you since you first arrived in Skyview City. That hasn¡¯t changed."

    Seeing Samuel¡¯s expression visibly rx at my words, I felt my own tension ease slightly. After he left, I turned to Rachel curiously.

    "What did you send Nora that warranted Samuel personally conveying thanks?"

    Rachel shrugged. "Nothing special, just an annual membership to Skyview City¡¯s premium spa." Then she casuallyined, "It was expensive though-eighty thousand dors for just one card."

    Hearing that price, I raised an eyebrow, secretly appreciating Rachel¡¯s choice.

    "That was an excellent gift selection."

    Peter¡¯s POV

    Skyview Cityy eerily quiet around us, the winter air biting through my suit as 1 stepped out of my car.

    We¡¯d parked near the edge of park, a strategic choice-secluded enough to avoid prying eyes, yet just public enough that our presence wouldn¡¯t seempletely out of ce if someone did happen to drive by. This time of night, the only souls crazy enough to be out werete-shift workers and the asional drunken reveler stumbling home.

    I approached the Bentley, my shoes crunching on the light dusting of snow covering the asphalt. Mr. Murphy rolled down his window, the warm air from inside the car creating a small cloud as it hit the freezing night.

    "Sir, the hotel security staff were all passed out like the useless pigs they are. I¡¯ll bring our target now?" I kept my voice low despite the emptiness surrounding us.

    Marcus Murphy merely nodded.

    "Proceed."

    I returned to my car, started the engine, and drove the short distance to where my men were holding our target. Less than thirty minutester, I was back, dragging a terrified man in a hotel security uniform from the backseat.

    I threw him roughly onto the ground, watching with satisfaction as hended with a dull thud on the frozen earth.

    His eyes bulged with fear above the duct tape covering his mouth, his uniform wrinkled and stained from our not-so-gentle extraction.

    Casually, I pulled out my knife, letting the street light catch the de as I turned it slowly in my hand. The man¡¯s eyes followed the movement, terror evident in his expression.

    "When I ask you something, you answer directly. If you waste my time..." I ced the knife tip just below his navel, applying just enough pressure to make my point without breaking skin. "I hear you¡¯re your family¡¯s only son? Would be a shame if your bloodline ended tonight."

    His muffled whimpers increased in volume, head nodding frantically. I nodded to one of my men, who ripped the tape from his mouth in one swift motion.

    The security guard immediately began groveling, rising to his knees despite his bound hands. "Please, sir, I don¡¯t know what I did to offend you! I have an elderly mother - she¡¯s eighty years old! My wife just got pregnant! I can¡¯t -"

    I grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back to cut off his pathetic babbling. "Shut up. I don¡¯t care about your life story. That extra cash you¡¯ve been pocketingtely¡ªwho paid you?"

    His eyes darted back and forth, calcting whether lying would save him. "What... what extra money? I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re-"

    My fist connected with his stomach before he could finish the lie. He doubled over, gasping and spitting, the wind knockedpletely out of him.

    "Let me be clearer," I said, my voice dropping to an icy whisper. "We know everything already. Who paid you to tamper with the terrace at the Porter estate the night Ms. Shaw fell?"

    The fight seemed to drain from him as he realized we weren¡¯t bluffing. His shoulders slumped in defeat.

    When he finally spoke, the name that came out of his mouth hit me like a bucket of ice water. I maintained myposure, but inside, my mind reeled with the implications. This wasn¡¯t just unexpected¡ªit was potentially explosive.

    The car window rolled down, and I could feel Mr. Murphy¡¯s gaze without even looking. He¡¯d heard everything. I signaled for my men to gag the security guard again and put him back in the car.

    "Sir," I approached the window cautiously, "do we take him directly to Ms. Shaw?"

    Marcus sulked and didn¡¯t say anything; it was the first time I¡¯d ever seen him so torn up.

 Chapter 81: Secrets at Golden Oak Manor

    <h4>Chapter 81: Secrets at Golden Oak Manor</h4>

    Jack¡¯s POV

    "Mr. Simpson, that security guard was taken away."

    My face darkened as my heart skipped a beat. "Taken away? By whom?" I demanded, feeling my fingers instinctively curl into fists.

    This was about Anna¡¯s fall-every lead mattered. I couldn¡¯t afford to lose any thread of information.

    The man before me shifted ufortably. "I think it was Mr. Murphy¡¯s people. That head of security who¡¯s always with him, the intimidating one."

    Anger shed through me like lightning. How could my staff be so ipetent at such a critical moment?

    The urge to fire him on the spot bubbled up inside me.

    "Have you never seen Marcus Murphy before? You don¡¯t even recognize his people?" didn¡¯t bother hiding the contempt in my voice.

    My subordinate¡¯s face flushed with embarrassment. "I have, sir, just didn¡¯t pay much attention to details."

    I fell silent, digesting this information with mounting frustration. I was used to Pax Powell¡¯s efficiency-these idiots were useless byparison. A wave of defeat washed over me; I¡¯d spotted the lead first, but someone else had snatched it right from under my nose.

    "Mr. Simpson, what should we do now?"

    My temple throbbed. *Is he seriously asking me this?* "The guy¡¯s been taken. Do you expect me to wait here until dawn?" I snapped.

    He stared nkly before finally understanding I wanted to leave. "Should we head back to the Simpson residence?"

    I pinched the bridge of my nose, exhaustion settling into my bones. After that argument with my parents, going back home would be admitting defeat. Pride and stubbornness rose from somewhere deep inside me¡ª couldn¡¯t show weakness now.

    "Moonlight Cove," I said coldly, deciding to return to my own ce instead.

    ---

    The next morning, I headed straight to Murphy Estate, only to discover Marcus wasn¡¯t there. A sense of urgency pushed me immediately toward Golden Oak Manor, his Skyview City residence.

    Deep winter had stripped the countryside bare-not a hint of green in sight. Yet at the foot of Golden Oak Manor, patches of evergreens stood defiant against the season. Not as lush as summer¡¯s offering, but remarkable nheless.

    The massive iron gates only opened after I received clearance. My car continued for another minute before stopping in front of an imposing mansion.

    I was informed that Marcus was in his study on a video conference, so I waited in the foyer. The interior was tastefully decorated with a blend of modern and ssic pieces¡ª understated wealth rather than gaudy disys. A few minutester, I heard his measured footsteps on the staircase.

    "What brings you here?" he asked concisely, skipping pleasantries.

    I got straight to the point, struggling to keep my voice steady. "Uncle,st night my people saw your security team take that guard away."

    Marcus didn¡¯t seem remotely surprised by my visit, which irritated me. It felt like he was always ten steps ahead, watching me stumble through his perfectly choreographed y.

    "Yes, he¡¯s here with me," he confirmed without hesitation.

    Anxiety tightened around my chest.

    "Did you find out who¡¯s behind this?

    Who did it?" My voice trembled slightly.

    Marcus studied me with that prating gaze that always made me feel like a transparent specimen. "No need to rush. We¡¯ll discuss once everyone¡¯s here."

    I froze, confusion shing through my mind. I¡¯d assumed Marcus was only having Anna brought over, but the situation clearly ran deeper.

    Before I could press further, the doorbell rang. Marcus¡¯s security chief appeared with Samuel Griffin in tow.

    Minutester, the Porter brothers¡ª Logan and Oscar-arrived together.

    Things were gettingplicated fast.

    Oscar strode in with his typical exuberance. "Wow, Marcus, this ce is really impressive! Aren¡¯t you scared living here all alone at night?"

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I felt my heart rate elerate the moment I turned off the highway exit.

    Through the windshield, the imposing silhouette of Golden Oak Manor gradually came into focus, while my thoughts grew increasingly chaotic.

    The revtion that this magnificent estate belonged to Marcus Murphy.

    Golden Oak Manor wasn¡¯t far from Skke District, both located in the same general direction. What shocked me even more was discovering that this property had been auctioned together with Nestling Crest Bay. That year, Nestling Crest Bay had be the most expensive plot in the city, while "fringe areas" like Golden Oak Manor attracted little interest. I remembered this so clearly because my father had mentioned Golden Oak

    before his death, predicting it would significantly appreciate in value someday.

    Shortly after my father¡¯s passing, the Nestling Crest Bay auction concluded, and property values in that area indeed rose, including around Golden Oak. Thinking back to Marcus¡¯s absolute certainty that Skke District wouldn¡¯t lose money, and his confident assertion that Nestling Crest Bay would develop quickly, a bold thought suddenly shed through my mind.

    My heartbeat nearly drowned out the car engine¡¯s rumble. ncing at Peter Reed concentrating on driving in the rearview mirror, I abruptly spoke:

    "The person who bought Nestling Crest Bay back then was Marcus, wasn¡¯t it?"

    Peter visibly panicked, the car wobbling slightly as he stammered, "Ms. Shaw, how-how did you guess that so quickly?"

    My suspicions confirmed.

    "He¡¯s owned Nestling Crest Bay for several years now. Why start developing it only now?" I asked tentatively, my voice hiding a mixture of anticipation and unease.

    Peter¡¯s expression turned serious. "Ms. Shaw, I can¡¯t discuss that. If you want to know, you¡¯ll have to ask Mr. Murphy yourself. I¡¯m sorry."

    "Is it because of me?" I looked directly at him, voicing my guess.

    Peter¡¯s whole body tensed, his silence answering more eloquently than words ever could.

    Looking at his expression, what else was there to misunderstand? Marcus rarely returned to America these past few years, but his recent frequent visits spoke volumes. If I hadn¡¯t set my sights on Skke District, Nestling Crest Bay might have remained untouched for who knows how long.

    Everything he¡¯d done was for me. This realization flooded my heart with warmth.

    "Ms. Shaw, currently no one besides you knows that Nestling Crest Bay belongs to Mr. Murphy. Please keep this confidential for now," Peter reminded me quietly.

    "Of course," I responded softly. I wasn¡¯t stupid¡ªif others discovered this, Skyview City¡¯s businessndscape would likely reshufflepletely. It meant Marcus¡¯s business empire had quietly taken root in Skyview City.

    Domestic and international ventures-no wonder he was always so busy.

    A thought crossed my mind: if I hadn¡¯t been smart enough to figure it out, was he nning to never tell me?

    Then again, it¡¯s not like others weren¡¯t intelligent. Everyone else just knew Marcus had purchased a fringe property to build a mansion; they couldn¡¯t possibly imagine he¡¯d also bought Nestling Crest Bay. If Marcus hadn¡¯t specifically mentioned Nestling Crest Bay to me, I wouldn¡¯t have made these connections either.

    My heart suddenly felt stuffed with cotton¡ªfull and soft-as a feeling of being treasured quietly spread within me.

    Arriving at Golden Oak Manor, Peter got out and personally opened my door. "Ms. Shaw, Mr. Griffin and Mr. Porter have already arrived."

    I was puzzled, not understanding what game Marcus was ying by inviting Samuel Griffin and Logan Porter. With questions swirling in my mind, I stepped into the spacious hall.+

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Several men were indeed seated in the vast room. My high heels clicked against the marble floor, the crisp sound causing the men to turn their heads in my direction. To my surprise, Jack Simpson was among them.

    "Marcus invited Anna too?" Oscar remarked with a teasing tone. "Are we being treated to a feast?"

    Marcus motioned toward him: "Sit over here." The seat beside him, closest to him, was vacant.

    I noticed Jack and Logan¡¯s expressions simultaneously darkening, displeasure shing in their eyes. This subtle change didn¡¯t escape my notice, but I chose to ignore it, walking directly to the seat beside Marcus.

    "Uncle Marcus, why have you called us here?" I asked softly, trying to mask my curiosity and nervousness.

    Marcus answered briefly: "Business."

    As servers began bringing tea, Samuel quipped, "If Ms. Shaw hadn¡¯te, we four wouldn¡¯t even get tea."

    I had no response. With both arms still immobile, drinking tea presented a challenge. As I privately contemted this, a server positioned himself next to me with a tray, the teacup thoughtfully containing a straw.

    This special treatment stirred something in me. The delicate aroma of green tea¡ªmy favorite-wafted toward me. I smiled at the server, "T¡¯ve switched to in water recently.

    Would you mind bringing that instead?"

    The server immediately exchanged it for water, again thoughtfully including a straw. This meticulous attention warmed me, though it also made me somewhat ufortable, especially under everyone¡¯s watchful eyes.

    Just then, Peter shoved a man into the room. The man wore a hotel security uniform, his hands bound behind him, head hanging low. Peter threw him down in front of us.

    Recognizing the familiar security uniform, my heart jumped: "Uncle Marcus, is this...?"

    The man on the floor struggled to his knees and, surprisingly, crawled toward Logan and Oscar. The Porter brothers exchanged bewildered nces, clearly confused by this turn of events.

    Peter stepped forward and ripped the tape from the man¡¯s mouth. He immediately let out an agonized cry, "Mr. Oscar Porter, help me!"

    The security guard¡¯s desperate plea to Oscar Porter sent an electric current through the room. My heart hammered against my ribs as I watched the scene unfold with surgical precision, each detail etching itself into my memory. Winter sunlight streaming through massive windows, suddenly felt like a stage where a particrly vicious y was about to reach its climax.

    Peter loomed over him, his presencemanding and threatening. "Tell them exactly what you told mest night. Every detail."

    Carl¡¯s eyes darted wildly around the room before fixing on Oscar¡¯s stunned face. "I was paid to tamper with the railing at the Porter estate. The person who hired me imed to represent the Porter family."

    I maintained a mask of calm, though my stomach twisted itself into painful knots. The security guard¡¯s words hung in the air like poison gas, slowly suffocating everyone in the room.

    That¡¯s absurd!" Oscar leapt to his feet, face flushed with indignation. He rushed to my side, dropping to one knee beside my chair. "Anna, you can¡¯t possibly believe this. Why would I ever want to hurt you?"

    I studied his face-the genuine horror, the pleading in his eyes. In my heart, I already knew Oscar was innocent.

    We¡¯d grown up together, shared secrets, stood by each other through our darkest moments. Yet I forced myself to remain objective, to consider all possibilities.

    "I don¡¯t have proof," Carl whispered, his voice cracking. "I never saw the person¡¯s face. I just got a call, and money was wired to my ount."

    Logan stepped forward, his one good arm gesturing emphatically. "This is ridiculous! You¡¯re using my family based on the word of a criminal?"

    The tension in the room thickened. I exchanged a subtle nce with Marcus, whose expression remained unreadable to everyone but me. I understood immediately what needed to happen next.

    "Jack, Samuel," I said calmly, "perhaps you should both leave now. This appears to be a matter involving the Porter family."

    Jack¡¯s brow furrowed. "You¡¯re asking us to leave? Just when things are getting interesting?"

    "This isn¡¯t a spectacle for your entertainment," Marcus stated tly.

    Samuel rose with that predictable fake smile of his. "Of course. Family matters should be handled privately." His eyes lingered on me a moment too long, calcting and curious.

    The door closed behind them, and the atmosphere in the room became suffocating. I turned my gaze directly to Logan, who still stood protectively near his brother.

    "Logan," I said, my voice unnervingly steady even to my own ears. "Is there something you¡¯d like to tell us?"

    He adjusted his sses nervously, forcing a smile. "Anna, Marcus hasn¡¯t said anything. Why do you think it was me?"

    My response was quiet but devastating.

    "Wasn¡¯t it?"

    The silence stretched like a rubber band ready to snap. Then Logan¡¯s facade crumbled, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

    "Yes," he confessed, the word barely audible. "It was me."

    Oscar¡¯s face drained of color. He stumbled backward as if physically struck, copsing into a nearby chair.

    "Logan... what the hell are you saying?"

    I fought to keep my faceposed while my insides felt like they were being shredded. My throat burned with unshed tears, and my fingernails dug painfully into my palms.

    "Why?" The question escaped my lips, hanging between us like a challenge.

    Marcus remained silent beside me, but I felt his presence like a physical support.

    Carl remained on his knees, head bowed low, no longer the focus of attention now that the true culprit had confessed.

    I looked at Logan¡ªmy childhood friend, the man who had saved my life only to reveal he¡¯d been the one to endanger it-and asked the question that threatened to tear my heart in two:

    "Why would you do this to me?"

 Chapter 82: Betrayal

    <h4>Chapter 82: Betrayal</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "Anna, you really don¡¯t know why?" Logan asked, his voice eerily calm despite just having confessed to attempted murder.

    I kept my face expressionless, though my heart hammered against my ribcage like a trapped bird. "I know it¡¯s not Samuel. He had no reason to harm me when we were about to partner up. I know it¡¯s not Jack. And if it were George, he wouldn¡¯t be sitting here today."

    Logan stared directly into my eyes, his gaze unnervingly steady. "Then why are you so certain it¡¯s me? In your heart, am I really such a cruel, despicable person, Anna?"

    I shook my head, still struggling to reconcile this monster with the boy I¡¯d grown up with. "No. Until I sat down in this room, I didn¡¯t know who was behind this. It was Carl using Oscar that made me remember something."

    "What?" Curiosity flickered across his face.

    "The shoes you gave me." As I spoke those words, certainty crystallized in my mind. The realization felt like swallowing broken ss.

    I analyzed the situation with forced detachment, keeping my voice clinical despite the storm raging inside me. "You know me too well. You knew I¡¯d feel ufortable in enclosed spaces after a while and would step outside for air. So you had Carl tamper with the terrace railing. Hotel surveince only keeps footage for a week, so Carl must have sabotaged the railing a week before the party, right? And that slippery wax on the floor, plus those shoes you gave me-were those your backup ns in case I didn¡¯t fall to my death?"

    Oscar lunged forward, grabbing Logan¡¯s cor. "What shoes? Logan, did you really do this? Have you lost your mind? WHY?"

    I stared at Logan, who showed no panic whatsoever. He remained perfectlyposed as he replied, "I wasn¡¯t trying to kill you. If I could, I¡¯d trade my life for yours in a heartbeat.

    Carl had already prepared plenty of padding below. You wouldn¡¯t have died. Remember when we were kids and you got stuck hanging from my family¡¯s wall?"

    His casual tone when discussing my potential death ignited fury within me, but Oscar reacted first. He smashed his fist into Logan¡¯s face with a sickening crack. "What if she hadn¡¯t caught the railing? What if she¡¯d fallen straight down? You talk about this so lightly, but she could have DIED! How could you gamble with her life?"

    Logan¡¯s lip split open. He casually wiped the blood with his bandaged left hand, immediately staining the white gauze with a jarring ssh of crimson.

    "But I won the gamble, didn¡¯t I?" he said coldly.

    I suppressed the violent emotions churning inside me, eyeing his injured arm as I asked with forcedposure, "Why would you do this?"

    Logan nced at Marcus, who had remained silent throughout, though his powerful presence filled the room without him saying a word.

    "Why indeed?" Logan seemed to be asking himself. "I¡¯d like to know that too. Why is it that even though I knew you first, you fell for Jack Simpson? I finally waited until your divorce, but you still couldn¡¯t see me. Why, Anna?

    Why do you ignore everything I do?

    Whether it was that arranged date or my confession, you rejected me without hesitation. Even when I offered you everything I have, you still refused."

    He fixed me with a cold stare. "I just wanted to be closer to you. If you were disabled, Marcus and Jack definitely wouldn¡¯t want you anymore. Then you would be mine."

    His horrifying words sent ice through my veins. Was this really Logan? How could his love be so twisted and diseased?

    "Logan?" Oscar grabbed his brother¡¯s cor again, his voice breaking with disbelief. "Do you hear yourself? Are you even human anymore? This is Anna who grew up with us! You wanted her to be disa¡ª" He couldn¡¯t even finish the word.

    I took a deep breath, fighting to control the tremor in my voice. "Tell me about Samuel."

    Logan exined with disturbing nonchnce: "Samuel was a helper I found specifically for you. The drugging incident was my doing¡ªI just didn¡¯t want him cooperating with the Simpson family. I never expected you to enter that room, and the subsequent rumors weren¡¯t part of my n. Of course, Samuel¡¯s main purpose was to prevent you from partnering with Mr. Murphy or Jack Simpson. Later, when I wanted to partner with you myself, I tried to push him out. But I discovered he was looking for whoever drugged him, and I worried he¡¯d expose my darker side to you. So I arranged that blind date through my family, followed by the confession, marriage proposal, and the ¡¯ident¡¯ at the birthday party... It was my first time nning something like this, so it wasn¡¯t perfect. I rushed things."

    Iughed bitterly. "Not perfect? So Samuel was your pawn from the beginning."

    Logan adjusted his sses, frustration crossing his face. "It was exposed too early." He nced toward Marcus. "I underestimated Mr. Murphy¡¯s influence in America."

    My heart felt like it was being shredded. The pain of betrayal, disappointment, and anger swirled together into a nauseating cocktail. I wanted nothing more than to cut him from my lifepletely.

    "Just go," I said, exhaustion seeping into my voice. "Let¡¯s try not to see each other in the future." With our families¡¯ connections,plete avoidance was impossible, but from now on, we would be strangers.

    Logan looked at me. "You¡¯re not going to call the police?"

    "No," I replied tly, unwilling to say more.

    Logan turned and left the room. Oscar stood there looking utterly dejected, seemingly wanting to say something but unable to find the words. Carl was escorted out shortly after, leaving only Marcus and me in the living room.

    My shoulders slumped with the weight of everything that had happened. I couldn¡¯t possibly have Logan arrested, but losing someone I¡¯d thought was a good friend left a hollowness in my chest that made it difficult to breathe.

    A servant approached. "Mr. Murphy, lunch is ready."

    Marcus nodded for them to proceed.

    "Uncle Marcus," I said quietly, "could you ask Peter to take me home? I have no appetite."

    Marcus walked over to me and, without warning, bent down and lifted me from the sofa.

    I gasped in surprise. "What are you doing?"

 Chapter 83: Boundaries Blurred

    <h4>Chapter 83: Boundaries Blurred</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "Taking you to lunch," he replied simply, his voice matter-of-fact as though carrying me was the most natural thing in the world.

    I opened my mouth to protest but found myself speechless. The shock of Logan¡¯s betrayal still reverberated through me, leaving a hollowness that made even forming words difficult. My shoulders throbbed with pain, a physical reminder of the price I¡¯d nearly paid for his twisted obsession.

    Marcus carried me through the manor with surprising gentleness for a man his size. Each careful step seemed calibrated not to jostle my injured shoulders.

    The dining room of Golden Oak Manor unfolded before us, a space so grand it made my own home at Goldenleaf Manor seem modest byparison.

    With careful movements, Marcus lowered me into the chair at the head of the table. I expected a servant to appear-someone to help with the meal since my arms were essentially useless. Instead, Marcus took the seat directly beside me, his proximity sending an unexpected flutter through my chest.

    Servers glided silently into the room, presenting dish after dish of exquisitely prepared food. The aromas should have been enticing, but the gnawing emptiness inside me had killed any appetite I might have had. I stared at the te ced before me, suddenly overwhelmed by the simple impossibility of eating without the use of my arms.

    My cheeks warmed with embarrassment as the reality of my helplessness sank in.

    Marcus picked up my fork withoutment, loading it with a perfect bite from my te. I shifted ufortably in my seat.

    "Uncle Marcus, I can..." My voice trailed off, the lie obvious before it even fully left my lips. I couldn¡¯t do anything for myself right now, and we both knew it.

    "Open your mouth," he instructed, his voice leaving no room for argument.

    His gaze fixed on my lips with an intensity that made my pulse quicken unexpectedly. Something in the air between us shifted¡ªa subtle change in pressure, in temperature. The massive dining room suddenly felt intimate, almost confining. Though nothing had visibly changed, I felt as though Marcus was somehow closer than he had been seconds before.

    His eyes never left mine as he held the fork poised before me, and I found myself mesmerized by the unexpected softness I found there. For a briet, disorienting moment, I forgot about Logan¡¯s betrayal, forgot about my injuries, forgot about everything except the strange electricity humming between us.

    "Open your mouth," he repeated, his voice noticeably gentler this time, carrying a tenderness I¡¯d never heard from him before.

    Almost hypnotized, I parted my lips, epting the offered bite. The vors burst across my tongue-perfectly seared steak with a red wine reduction¡ªbut I barely registered them. I was too distracted by the way Marcus watched me chew, his expression unreadable yet somehow more open than I¡¯d ever seen it.

    One bite followed another, and gradually, I surrendered to the experience. _Since I can¡¯t use my arms anyway, I might as well enjoy being cared for_, I rationalized to myself, epting each morsel he offered.

    The servers had long since departed, leaving us alone in the vast dining room. The only sounds were the soft clink of silverware against china and our asional quietments. A strange peacefulness settled over me despite everything that had happened.

    After several minutes offortable silence, Marcus¡¯s expression shifted back to its usual impassivity. "About Logan Porter," he said, his tone returning to its customary coolness.

    "What do you intend to do?"

    The mention of Logan¡¯s name sent a fresh wave of pain through me, but it was duller now, tempered by exhaustion. I swallowed my current bite before answering honestly.

    "I don¡¯t have any ns. Our families are too closely connected for me to avoid himpletely, even if I wanted to."

    Marcus frowned slightly, something shing behind his eyes that I couldn¡¯t quite identify. Disapproval? Concern?

    "You should remain vignt," he advised, his voice carrying unmistakable protective undertones.

    "I know," I replied softly.

    Marcus¡¯s POV

    I had initially nned to handle the Logan Porter situation privately. Anna had already experienced enough trauma from his betrayal, and part of me wanted to shield her from the ugly truth. But watching her face as realization dawned-seeing that razor-sharp intelligence piece everything together¡ªI knew she deserved to confront her demons directly.

    Herposure throughout the entire confrontation impressed me. Most people would have crumbled under the weight of such betrayal, especially from someone they¡¯d considered a lifelong friend. But Anna Shaw wasn¡¯t most people. She maintained her dignity even as her world tilted on its axis.

    Now, seated beside her in Golden Oak Manor¡¯s private dining room, I found myself studying her profile as winter sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

    I speared another piece of steak with her fork, holding it before her lips.

    "You need to eat more," I said, my voice softer than I¡¯d intended.

    Anna parted her lips obediently, epting the food with a small nod of thanks. The vulnerability in her eyes stirred something primal in me-the urge to protect, to possess.

    Her gaze drifted to the untouched water ss. Following her unspoken request, I brought it to her lips, tipping it carefully as she drank. A small drop of sauce lingered at the corner of her mouth. Without thinking, I reached out, gently wiping it away with my thumb.

    Time seemed to freeze. Her eyes widened slightly, pupils dting as they met mine. My heart kicked against my ribs with unexpected force.

    The space between us-already intimate-suddenly felt charged with electricity.

    I found myself leaning forward, drawn by some maic pull I couldn¡¯t¡ª didn¡¯t want to¡ªresist. My thumb traced the outline of her lower lip, feeling its softness. The small, sharp intake of her breath was the only sound in the room.

    Giving in to impulse, I pressed my lips against the corner of her mouth-not quite a kiss, but far from innocent. Just the barest touch,sting only a moment, yet it sent lightning crackling through my veins.

    When I pulled back, her cheeks had bloomed with color. I could see her pulse fluttering rapidly at the base of her throat.

    "Uncle Marcus," she finally managed, her voice carrying a slight tremor, "do you think this is... appropriate?"

    I met her confused gaze directly, not a trace of apology in my voice.

    "Appropriate."

    The single word hung between us, neither a question nor fully an answer.

    Simply a statement of fact-whatever existed between us felt right to me, and I wouldn¡¯t pretend otherwise.

    She drew a deep breath, clearly trying to collect herself. "I¡¯m full now, thank you for lunch. May I leave?"

    I studied her flushed face, enjoying the subtle y of emotions she was trying desperately to hide. "There are no drivers avable at the moment. Were you nning to walk back?"

    Her eyes narrowed slightly, that brilliant mind of hers clearly spotting the flimsy excuse. "What about Peter?

    Or any of your other staff?"

    "They all have assignments," I replied smoothly, watching her expression shift between frustration and resignation.

    This small victory-keeping her here just a little longer-satisfied something deep within me.

    I motioned for the housekeeper who had been waiting discreetly in the doorway. "Please show Ms. Shaw to the guest suite."

    Turning back to Anna, I softened my tone. "I have some matters to attend to. Rest for a while, and I¡¯ll drive you home myselfter."

    She opened her mouth as if to protest, then closed it again, epting defeat with as much grace as she could muster.

 Chapter 84: Unmasked

    <h4>Chapter 84: Unmasked</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    The housekeeper led me up to the third floor of Golden Oak Manor, gesturing toward a closed door at the end of the hallway.

    "Miss, that¡¯s Mr. Murphy¡¯s room," she exined, pointing to a door on the left.

    "Miss, there are only two rooms on the third floor¡ªMr. Murphy¡¯s and yours," another maid added, indicating the door directly in front of us.

    I blinked in confusion. "Mine?"

    When the door swung open, I stood frozen at the threshold. The room that greeted me seemed to have materialized straight from my forgotten childhood dreams. The entire space was bathed in dreamy princess pink,plemented by cream and light gray furniture that created a perfect harmony. My long-dead girlish heart suddenly flickered back to life, sending an unexpected wave of emotion through me.

    This couldn¡¯t possibly be ast-minute arrangement. The imported hand-

    woven wool carpet alone wasn¡¯t something you could just order on a whim. I stepped inside hesitantly, my mind reeling with questions. Once upon a time, I had adored pink. If not for this room, I might havepletely forgotten that the little girl I once was had been such a stereotypical sweetheart.

    But the revtion spawned a disturbing question-how did Marcus Murphy know about my childhood preferences? Even if he had known my father, such personal details shouldn¡¯t have been part of their conversations.

    When the maid presented a pale pink nightgown, I politely declined. These sweet pastel colors no longer suited the woman I¡¯d be. Some happiness simply couldn¡¯t be recaptured, and I¡¯d worked too hard to be today¡¯s Anna Shaw to regress. I needed to get out, afraid that staying even a second longer might entangle me in something I wasn¡¯t ready to face.

    "I think I¡¯ll take a walk outside instead," I announced, hastily retreating from the room.

    The winter gardens of Golden Oak Manor stretched before me, barren yet beautiful. Only the evergreens stood defiant against the cold, their needles glistening with frost. Despite the sunshine, the air had a crisp bite to it.

    I pulled my coat tighter and walked until my troubled thoughts began to quiet.

    "Really nning to walk all the way home?" Marcus¡¯s voice suddenly materialized behind me.

    I turned, momentarily startled. "I have a question for you," I said directly.

    "Go ahead." His response was characteristically terse.

    "Did we know each other before?" The question that had been burning inside me finally escaped.

    "Yes."

    "When?"

    "Ten years ago."

    "Ten years ago?" I repeated, genuinely confused. Nothing in my memory corresponded with this im.

    Marcus¡¯s voice cooled noticeably. "You forgot?"

    A strange suspicion began forming in my mind. "Were you injured when we met? Were you bleeding?"

    His eyes narrowed with sudden intensity. "I thought you didn¡¯t remember? What¡¯s going on?"

    "If you were bleeding at that time, it¡¯s possible I genuinely forgot everything about it. Sorry about that, Uncle Marcus." My voice remained steady, though my heart certainly wasn¡¯t.

    "The room is beautiful," I said, changing the subject, "but I don¡¯t like pink anymore."

    "Uncle Marcus, could you please have someone drive me home? I really am quite busy." I forced a smile, pretending everything was normal.

    - - -

    When I arrived back at Shaw Estate, thest people I expected to see were the Porters. Yet there was Doris, sitting ufortably on our sofa while my mother hovered nearby with an anxious expression.

    "Annie¡¯s back!" Doris eximed, rising to greet me with obvious difort in her manner.

    "Annie, I¡¯m truly sorry," she continued, her face etched with remorse. "It¡¯s all my fault for not raising Logan properly. You¡¯ve suffered because of him."

    "Really, my mom scratched his face with her nails," Oscar interjected earnestly. "Three deep marks, all bleeding. She hit him really hard."

    Doris¡¯s eyes reddened at the edges.

    "That boy used to be so obedient and thoughtful. The more proud I was of him before, the more disappointed I am now. How did he turn out this way?"

    "Annie, I¡¯m apologizing on his behalf.

    I don¡¯t expect you to forgive him-just please don¡¯t be angry. For the sake of our families¡¯ rtionship, give him another chance," Doris pleaded, her voice thick with guilt.

    I took a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. "Aunt Doris, I have no objection to our families continuing their rtionship, but things between Logan and me can never go back to how they were."

    "I understand this situation must be difficult for all of us," I said, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions brewing inside me. "But Logan deliberately orchestrated my ident.

    I can¡¯t simply forget that happened."

    Doris¡¯s expression froze, thest glimmer of hope for reconciliation dying in her eyes. Her perfectly manicured hands trembled slightly in herp.

    "I-I understand," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I just hoped that perhaps..."

    "I¡¯m sorry, Aunt Doris," I replied firmly. "For safety reasons, I need to keep my distance from Logan."

    The door closed behind them with a soft click that somehow felt more final than a m.

    My mother turned to me immediately.

    "Annie, I¡¯m so sorry I ever encouraged your connection with Logan. If I¡¯d known..." Her voice cracked with emotion.

    "We¡¯ll cut ties with the Porterspletely," Mother dered with uncharacteristic firmness. "I don¡¯t care about the business implications or social appearances."

    The conviction in her voice touched something deep within me. I thought she¡¯d worry about Grace and let it go.

    "It¡¯ll be fine," I assured them both, even as my mind struggled to process everything that had happened. "This isn¡¯t your fault. I never suspected Logan either."

    Mother hesitated, then asked tentatively, "Annie, about Marcus Murphy..."

    "I have work to do," I cut her off, unwilling to navigate thoseplicated waters just yet. "Shaw Corp won¡¯t run itself."

    I hurried to my room, ignoring the concerned nces exchanged between my mother and grandmother. Despite my still-healing shoulders, I managed to change into a professional outfit with Rachel¡¯s help and headed straight to the office.

    Work was a blessed distraction from the emotional chaos threatening to overwhelm me. I buried myself in spreadsheets and contracts until the winter sky darkened outside my office windows.

    I nced at my watch¡ª10:12 PM. The building had emptied hours ago, with only Sean remaining to assist me.

    "You should head home, Sean," I told him as I gathered my belongings. "I¡¯s too cold for you to wait while I finish up here."

    "Are you sure, Ms. Shaw?" he asked, concern evident in his voice. "I can wait and drive you home."

    "I¡¯m fine," I insisted. "Go home to your family."

    After Sean left, I locked up and headed toward the parking garage.

    The winter night had transformed the city into a crystallinendscape, beautiful but treacherous. My breath formed small clouds in the frigid air as I stepped carefully across the partially iced sidewalk.

    I was fumbling with my car keys when a familiar voice froze me in ce.

    "Anna, I¡¯ve been waiting for you."

    Logan Porter stood less than ten feet away, his face partially hidden behind a gray scarf, his sses reflecting the dim streetlight. My heart hammered against my ribs, but I forced my expression to remain impassive.

    "What do you want?" I asked, my voice cold enough to match the winter air.

    "I wanted to see your face when you saw me," he replied with disturbing calmness. "We were bound to run into each other eventually. Skyview City isn¡¯t that big."

    "You should leave," I warned. "I don¡¯t hate you right now, Logan, but that could change quickly."

    A smile spread across his partially hidden face, sending chills down my spine that had nothing to do with the temperature.

    "You think this is over," he said softly.

    "But I¡¯ve only just begun, Anna. You still don¡¯t understand, do you?"

    "Understand what?" I demanded, anger finally breaking through my carefulposure.

    "That security guard, the special shoes, implicating Oscar¡ªI made sure you¡¯d know it was me," he exined, as if discussing something as mundane as the weather forecast. "I wanted you to know."

    I stood there, paralyzed with confusion and disbelief. The Logan I thought I knew hadpletely vanished, reced by this stranger with cold, calcting eyes.

    "Why?" I whispered, the question escaping my lips before I could stop it.

 Chapter 85: Twisted Confession

    <h4>Chapter 85: Twisted Confession</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Logan¡¯s hand unexpectedly reached up to cup my face. His familiar features suddenly seemed alien, transformed by an intensity I¡¯d never witnessed before.

    "Because I don¡¯t want to be the nice guy anymore, Anna. I¡¯m tired of always being considerate of others," Logan said, his eyes burning with an unfamiliar heat. His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "Because I might do things that will make you hate me."

    My eyes widened as shock pulsed through my system. Had hepletely lost his mind? The irony wasn¡¯t lost on me¡ªl¡¯d just rebuffed Jack Simpson only to immediately face another unwanted advance. My instincts screamed danger, and I stepped backward only to feel his hand firmly grasp the back of my head.

    We were close enough that passersby might mistake us for lovers about to kiss. Disgust and fury roiled in my stomach. This man was even more unhinged than Samuel.

    "You should know my personality by now, Logan. If you think this removes all my reservations, you¡¯re wrong, " I said, my voice turning to ice as I fought to control my anger. "Let go of me."

    Instead of releasing me, he tilted his head, clearly intending to kiss me.

    Frustration and disbelief crashed through me like a tidal wave.

    "Am I just incredibly unlucky today or is my love life suddenly exploding?" I blurted out, not bothering to hide my irritation.

    "What do you mean?" His fingers froze mid-air, confusion crossing his face.

    I didn¡¯t bother exining. "You think forcing a kiss on me will make me give in? Let me be frank with you¡ªI already have someone."

    "But Jack never touched you..." The words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.

    A cold wave of realization washed over me. "How do you know Jack never touched me?" My heart hammered against my ribs as winter wind cut through my coat, bringing with it a bone-deep chill that had nothing to do with the temperature.

    Logan¡¯s expression darkened, his Adam¡¯s apple bobbing nervously.

    "Who is it? WHO? It can¡¯t be Sean Smith, and it¡¯s certainly not Jack Simpson, so who is it?"

    Seeing his reaction gave me a small, vindictive satisfaction. "That¡¯s none of your business."

    Without warning, he pulled me against him, his grip tightening as his voice lost all its usual warmth. "It doesn¡¯t matter. I don¡¯t care. Is it Marcus Murphy?"

    I struggled against his hold, but couldn¡¯t break free. "No. LET ME GO!" The mention of Marcus¡¯s name sent an unwee flutter through my chest despite the circumstances.

    Logan buried his face in the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin. "It doesn¡¯t matter if it¡¯s him.

    Annie, I¡¯m the one who truly loves you."

    That ignited my furypletely. "If you hadn¡¯t tried to hurt me before, I might have thanked you. Now, all I can say is don¡¯t bother. I don¡¯t need your love." Each word dripped with ice-cold contempt.

    Logan finally released me as Rachel jumped out, quickly positioning herself between us. Her high heels clicked sharply against the marble pavement.

    "Ms. Shaw, are you alright?" Her eyes never left Logan as she spoke.

    "I¡¯m fine. Let¡¯s go." I maintained myposure despite the turmoil inside.

    Before stepping into the car, I turned back to deliver one final blow. "And I don¡¯t want to hear you call me Annie ever again."

    "But Marcus Murphy can, right?" Logan called out, pain and defiance mingling in his voice as his suit fluttered in the bitter wind.

    I paused briefly, Marcus¡¯s gentle manner shing through my mind.

    "Yes." One simple word that carried the weight ofplicated emotions I wasn¡¯t ready to fully examine.

    ©`©`©`

    The next few days passed in rtive calm. Despite my shoulders still healing, work kept me constantly upied. In Shaw Corp¡¯s top-floor office, I was reviewing documents when Rachel entered with an elegant invitation.

    "Ms. Shaw, this just arrived," she said, handing me the gold-embossed card.

    "Catherine Murphy¡¯spany opening ceremony."

    Taking the invitation, I unconsciously traced the Murphy family crest with my fingertip, my thoughts drifting to Marcus. *He must have returned to Europe by now.* He¡¯d said he would only stay three days, and twice that time had already passed. A bittersweet sensation spread through my chest¡ª he appeared without warning and vanished just as silently, his offer to take me with him nothing but empty words.

    "Order eight flower arrangements, nothing too extravagant," I instructed Rachel, trying to mask my disappointment.

    She returned shortly after. "Ms. Shaw, Samuel Griffin is here."

    My spirits lifted immediately. "Please show Mr. Griffin to the small conference room. Have some tea prepared. I¡¯ll be right there."

    Samuel arrived with his assistant and the agreement we¡¯d been negotiating for weeks. Finally, we signed the papers, making our partnership official.

    Across the polished conference table, we exchanged smiles of mutual respect.

    "Not easy, Ms. Shaw. You¡¯re the toughest business partner I¡¯ve encountered in years," Samuel said with a half-joke, the Heritage Group emblem on his tailored suit gleaming under the lights.

    I smiled back. "The feeling is mutual."

    Pride swelled within me at what we¡¯d aplished.

    Samuel raised his teacup. "So I guess we¡¯re friends forged through adversity.

    Ms. Shaw, please don¡¯t disappoint me."

    "Mr. Griffin, believe me, I want to secure Skke District even more than you do," I replied sincerely, having invested too much of myself in this project to see it fail.

    - - -

    On the day of Catherine¡¯spany opening, I arrived early to show my support. The hotel venue was already bustling with Skyview Ciry¡¯s elite.

    "Good thing I asked the hotel to prepare extra tables. Otherwise, I¡¯d be embarrassed today," Catherine remarked with surprise, looking radiant amid the crowd.

    I couldn¡¯t resist teasing her. "Didn¡¯t you send out invitations?"

    "My father¡¯s reputation carries more weight than any invitation. Look around ¡ªhow many people are here for me versus for him? I¡¯m having mypany opening, and they¡¯re allworking," she replied with resignation, fidgeting with her champagne ss.

    "I can¡¯t speak for others, but I¡¯m definitely here for you," I assured her sincerely, genuinely happy for my friend¡¯s sess.

    Our conversation was interrupted when an employee approached with a courier. "Ms. Murphy, there¡¯s a delivery for you."

    Catherine epted the beautifully wrapped package with augh. "Who¡¯s this from? Sending a package to my office opening when they know I¡¯m busy¡ªthey¡¯re doing this on purpose, aren¡¯t they?"

    Urged by the curious onlookers, she opened it publicly. Insidey a set of keys and an ess card, apanied by a note containing only a six-digit number and a signature-Marcus Murphy.

    "What is this?" Catherine looked at the number in confusion, turning to me. "I understand if Uncle Marcus is giving me a property, but what¡¯s this number?"

 Chapter 86: The Birthday Secret

    <h4>Chapter 86: The Birthday Secret</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I stared at the six-digit number on that small note card, my brain racing through possiblebinations until everything suddenly clicked. Wait a minute¡ªthat was my birthday.

    Catherine¡¯s eyes widened with recognition. "Hold on, isn¡¯t that your birthday?" She examined the card more closely, her perfectly manicured nail tapping against the paper.

    Catherine leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

    "Interesting that my uncle would send me apany opening gift with your birthday as the passcode." Her lips curved into a knowing smile. "He probably doesn¡¯t even remember his own niece¡¯s birthday, but somehow remembers yours perfectly."

    Her implication hung in the air between us. I shifted ufortably, desperate to change the subject before others noticed my reaction.

    "The property is right across from the Financial District," I said quickly.

    "Marcus is really looking out for your business interests."

    ---

    Phillip Murphy finished his speech to enthusiastic apuse, hismanding presence leaving asting impression on the assembled business elite.

    Catherine stepped forward to take the microphone, her confident stride carrying her across the stage.

    I stood in the corner, contemting Marcus¡¯s unexpected gesture, when I heard Catherine call my name. She was waving me over, a brilliant smile lighting up her face.

    In an instant, every eye in the room turned toward me. My heart skipped a beat as confusion washed over me.

    What was she doing?

    Maintaining what I hoped was aposed expression, I walked toward the stage, my heels clicking against the floor with each step.

    "What¡¯s going on?" I whispered as I reached Catherine¡¯s side, maintaining my public smile despite my internal panic.

    Catherine raised the microphone, her voice ringing clear through the venue.

    "I¡¯ve always said that my first contract would go to Shaw Corp. Today, as mypany officially opens, that contract is ready to be signed."

    I froze, shock coursing through my system. This waspletely unexpected¡ªa public deration of alliance with me in front of Skyview City¡¯s most influential figures. The weight of the moment wasn¡¯t lost on me; this wasn¡¯t just business¡ªit was Catherine¡¯s way of telling everyone that the Murphy family stood with Anna Shaw.

    Her assistant approached with the contract. My hands trembled slightly as I signed my name, acutely aware of the significance of this moment.

    In the distance, I caught sight of Mary Simpson¡¯s face contorting with fury before she stormed toward the exit.

    The Simpson matriarch couldn¡¯t bear to witness her niece siding with an "outsider" over family.

    After the signing, Catherine gave me a gentle hug, mindful of my healing shoulders. The simple gesture felt like a lifeline in the shark-infested waters of Skyview City¡¯s business elite.

    "Your aunt left," I murmured quietly.

    Catherine shrugged, entirely unconcerned. "Grandpa¡¯s going to get an earful tonight. Not that I care." Her casual dismissal of family drama

    somehow made me feel less alone. For once, I had someone firmly in my corner.

    ©`©`©`

    During thepany tour, I noticed a distinguished businessman admiring the disy cabs lining Catherine¡¯s conference room walls.

    "Exquisite craftsmanship," he remarked, studying an ornate sculpture. "Quite elegant."

    Catherine immediately seized the opportunity. "Anna selected all these pieces for me. Actually," she added with a meaningful nce my way, "you two might have business to discuss."

    I stepped forward, offering my most professional smile. "You might not be aware, but these piecese from the traditional crafts division my grandfather Gregory Shaw left me. If you¡¯re interested, perhaps we could discuss this further over lunch sometime?"

    My voice projected confidence, but inside, I was thrilled at this unexpected opportunity to expand my businesswork and gather support for the Skke District project.

    The businessman¡¯s eyes lit up with interest. "Gregory Shaw¡¯s enterprise? I should definitely learn more about this."

    ---

    Jack¡¯s POV

    I pushed open the door to Father¡¯s office and walked into a storm. Mother stood rigid, jabbing her finger at Father¡¯s assistant. The woman¡¯s face was pale, her eyes darting to me with relief.

    I nodded at her. She rushed past me, clutching her tablet.

    _Mother¡¯s terrorizing the staff again._ Through the windows behind Father¡¯s desk, Skyview City¡¯s financial district stretched out¡ªa kingdom the Simpson family had helped build. Father red at Mother, jaw tight.

    "You have enough power at home," he said. "Tantrums in my office are uneptable."

    I stepped forward. "Mom? I thought you were at Catherine¡¯spany opening. You¡¯re back early."

    Mother turned to me, eyes shing.

    "They didn¡¯t need our support."

    Father sank into his chair. "What happened, Mary?"

    Her lips curled as she paced across the floor. "That Shaw girl. Catherine signed a partnership with her. Right there, in front of everyone!"

    My stomach clenched at Anna¡¯s name.

    I¡¯d avoided thinking about her since ourst meeting, when she¡¯d looked at me like I might be a murderer.

    "Phillip," Mother continued, "ims no interest in animation industry, then sends Catherine to get a foothold. The nerve!"

    Father¡¯s cold gaze shifted to me. "Have you met with Anna Shaw recently?"

    My throat tightened. "No."

    Father¡¯s fist crashed onto his desk.

    "THEN WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN DOING?"

    I dropped my gaze. How could I exin what kept me from seeing Anna? The guilt, the feelings, the memory of her distrust. Father wouldn¡¯t understand-business came before emotions in his world.

    "Samuel Griffin has left Skyview City," Father said, voice icy. "Before leaving, he visited Shaw Corp. If Anna has Samuel and Catherine both, she bes our mainpetitor."

    Mother scoffed. "Impossible. Samuel wouldn¡¯t choose Shaw Corp over us.

    Besides, where would Anna get that kind of money? She¡¯s just ying at business."

    Father¡¯s eyes narrowed. "Anna may not have liquid assets, but both families have deep reserves. If she wants Skke District, she¡¯ll find funding."

    He pressed his inte: "Find out which banks Anna Shaw has been meeting with."

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Fifteen days of physical therapy had finally paid off. My shoulders no longer screamed in protest with every movement, and I could button my own blouse without wincing.

    I checked my watch¡ª7:45 PM. Kieran Green was already forty-five minuteste to our dinner meeting. The luxurious private dining room felt increasingly ustrophobic with each passing minute. My fingers drummed against the table, the rhythm matching my growing irritation.

    "Ms. Shaw, would you like to order first?" the server asked, hovering uncertainly by the door.

    "Give Mr. Green another fifteen minutes," I replied, forcing a polite smile.

    When my phone finally rang, I snatched it up immediately. "Mr.Green, I assume you¡¯re on your way?"

    "Ms. Shaw, I deeply apologize," his voice oozed with fake remorse. "My father-inw has taken ill suddenly.

    I¡¯m at the hospital now and won¡¯t be able to make our dinner."

    I might have believed him if not for the distinct sound of sses clinking and a woman¡¯s muffled giggle in the background. My jaw tightened painfully.

    "I understandpletely," I replied, my voice cool as winter frost. "Family emergencies take precedence. Perhaps another time."

    Daniel Davis approached as I ended the call. "Ms. Shaw, could someone be deliberately sabotaging your meetings?"

    "What else could it be?" Heat rose to my face. "We weremunicating well before, and suddenly he¡¯s unavable or standing me up. Something¡¯s clearly wrong."

    I gathered my belongings, ready to leave this monument to wasted time, when amotion erupted in the hallway. A woman stumbled past our doorway, her hair disheveled and mascara streaking down her flushed cheeks. I recognized her immediately ¡ªNora Price.

    A clearly intoxicated man lurched after her, grabbing her wrist with such force that she winced.

    "Where are you running to? Is Griffin paying you more than I am?" he sneered, alcohol slurring his words.

    "Let go of me! Don¡¯t touch me!" Nora¡¯s voice cracked with fear and humiliation.

    Through the adjacent door left slightly ajar, I caught a glimpse of Sawyer Walker lounging casually on a sofa, watching the scene unfold with detached amusement. He made no move to intervene as his associate continued harassing Nora.

    "Don¡¯t y the innocent with me.

    Everyone in Skyview City knows your reputation. Just name your price."

    Something inside me snapped. I¡¯d been stood up, manipted, and now I was witnessing this disgusting disy of male entitlement. My blood boiled with a fury that demanded release.

    I nodded subtly to Sean Smith, who immediately understood. In three swift strides, he reached the drunk man and twisted his arm behind his back with practiced efficiency.

    Nora trembled violently, her expensive dress soaked with red wine stains¡ª clearly intentionally thrown on her.

    Her vulnerability in that moment broke through any remaining restraint I had.

    Without a word, I strode into the adjacent private room where Sawyer Walker and his business associates were dining. Their heads turned in surprise as I approached the center of their gathering.

    I surveyed their shocked faces for exactly two seconds before flipping their entire dining table.

    The crash was magnificent. Crystal shattered, wine sprayed, and gourmet food sttered across custom suits.

    Sawyer Walker barely leapt back in time to avoid being drenched.

    Without uttering a single word, I turned and walked out, catching Nora¡¯s wide-eyed stare.

    "Ms. Shaw, you didn¡¯t need to do this for me," she whispered, mascara-stained tears still tracking down her cheeks.

    "Stay away from that man in the future. He clearly has no real feelings for you."

    "Thank you for today," she replied, her voice breaking. "I won¡¯t forget this."

    "Don¡¯t mention it. I was stood up and needed to vent my frustration anyway." I handed her my coat. "Get home safely before you catch cold."

    I instructed Daniel to drive her home ¡ªshe was in no condition to operate a vehicle. As we exited the hotel, Sawyer Walker was waiting, his expensive shoes sttered with what appeared to be lobster bisque.

    "So who¡¯s backing you, Ms. Shaw?

    Marcus Murphy?" His voice carried an

    unmistakable threat.

    I met his gaze directly before sliding into my car. "Think whatever you want." The door closed with a satisfying thud.

    ©`©`©`

    Back home, I discovered my period had arrived. A strange mixture of relief and disappointment washed over me. No pregnancy.

    In many ways, this was the perfect arrangement. Physical release without emotional entanglement. No messy feelings, no expectations, no disappointments. Just two adults satistying mutual desires on their own terms.

    ---

    Year-end was approaching rapidly, and I still hadn¡¯t managed to meet with Kieran Green. The Skke District auction loomed just after the New Year. Even with Catherine and Samuel¡¯s investments, we remained woefully underfunded.

    "Ms. Shaw, Kieran Green will be attending his daughter¡¯s art exhibition tomorrow," Sean informed me. "I¡¯ve secured two tickets."

    "Good. You¡¯ll apany me tomorrow."

    Rachel entered with a folder. "Ms. Shaw, our investigation shows the Simpson family is almost certainly behind this. Kieran had dinner with George Simpsonst week."

    I wasn¡¯t surprised, but confirmation still sent a spike of anger through me.

    The Simpsons were systematically undermining my efforts, cutting off potential investors one by one.

    "Let¡¯s visit William Murphy," I decided, rising from my desk. "I haven¡¯t seen him in a while."

    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and

    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 87: Strings Attached

    <h4>Chapter 87: Strings Attached</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I arrived at Murphy Estate just as the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the manicured gardens. The sprawling mansion with its imposing facade looked quieter than usual-the winter chill had driven even the most dedicated groundskeepers indoors.

    Walking past the empty gazebo, I found myself imagining Marcus sitting there, his powerful presencemanding attention even in solitude.

    The butler greeted me at the entrance, taking my coat with practiced efficiency.

    "Is Mr. Murphy avable?" I asked, brushing a stray hair from my face.

    "He¡¯s in his study, Ms. Shaw. Though I should mention he¡¯s not feeling his best today." The butler¡¯s voice carried a note of concern. "Caught a chill from reading in the garden pavilion yesterday."

    My heart tightened instantly. "Mr. Murphy isn¡¯t well? Did he catch a cold?"

    "Yes, he insisted on sitting in the garden despite the weather. I¡¯m afraid he¡¯s paying for it now."

    I followed him through the ornate hallways, my heels clicking against the floors-each step punctuated by my mounting concern for William¡¯s health.

    The study door opened to reveal William Murphy sitting in his armchair, a woolen nket draped across his legs despite the crackling fire nearby. His beloved parrot perched in the corner, eyeing me suspiciously.

    "Trouble¡¯s here, trouble¡¯s here!" the bird squawked the moment I stepped inside. I stood awkwardly, remembering ourst encounter when I¡¯d identally startled it.

    William waved dismissively. "Just a minor cold. Why is everyone making such a fuss? Don¡¯t you people ever get sick?" Despite his gruff tone, I could tell he was touched by the concern.

    "Annie, it¡¯s been too long since you¡¯ve visited," he said, his eyes crinkling with genuine warmth.

    Guilt pinched at my conscience. "Year-end is keeping me busy at thepany," I replied, taking the seat opposite him.

    "Facing difficulties?" He leaned forward slightly. "You can tell me, perhaps I can help."

    A wave of affection washed over me as I moved to his side, gently taking his arm. "Nothing major, just the usual end-of-year chaos. I¡¯m trying to wrap up important matters before the holidays so I can properly spend time with Mom and Grandma."

    "That¡¯s our thoughtful Annie." William sighed I, settling back. "Unlike Marcus, getting injured every other day. At his age, you¡¯d think he¡¯d be more careful..."

    My heart stuttered. The teacup slipped from my fingers, rolling across the table before tumbling onto the carpet.

    "Marcus is injured?" My voice cracked with sudden rm. "How did it happen? Mr. Murphy, is it serious?"

    William sighed heavily. "Been bedridden for two weeks now.

    Thankfully, his life isn¡¯t in danger."

    "That serious?" I eximed.

    "Don¡¯t worry yourself, Annie."

    William¡¯s dismissive tone did little to reassure me. "That boy is tough as nails. Nopetitor has managed to take him down permanently, and they never will."

    I nodded absently, my mind entirely upied with thoughts of Marcus lying injured in some hospital bed.

    Without thinking, I began arranging tea and snacks, my movements mechanical.

    "Annie, are these cookies expired?

    They taste... strange." William¡¯s face scrunched up in confusion.

    I nced down at the te and realized I¡¯d served him the decorative fake cookies from the centerpiece. "Mr. Murphy, I¡¯ll get fresh ones right away." My cheeks burned with embarrassment.

    ---

    Back at Goldenleaf Manor, I immediately reached for my phone.

    My fingers trembled slightly as I dialed Marcus¡¯s number, anxiety building with each ring.

    "Marcus?" I asked eagerly when the line connected.

    "Ms. Shaw, it¡¯s Peter Reed." The formal voice on the other end deted my hopes instantly.

    "Why are you answering his phone?" I couldn¡¯t keep the disappointment from my voice.

    A brief pause. "Mr. Murphy isn¡¯t avable to take calls at the moment."

    My throat tightened. "Is he badly injured?"

    "Yes, quite severely," came Peter¡¯s clipped response.

    "Could I speak with him just for a moment?" I tried, desperate to hear Marcus¡¯s voice, to confirm he was truly okay.

    "I apologize, Ms. Shaw, but Mr. Murphy cannote to the phone right now."

    Something in Peter¡¯s tone made my stomach twist ufortably. Was Marcus deliberately avoiding me?

    "I¡¯ll call tomorrow then. Please take good care of him."

    "We will, Ms. Shaw."

    The call ended, leaving me staring at the silent phone in my hand. What had I done to make Marcus pull away?

    The next evening found me at Kieran Green¡¯s daughter¡¯s art exhibition, my face partially concealed behind oversized sunsses and a cashmere scarf. Rachel and Sean nked me protectively as we navigated through Skyview City¡¯s elite, none of whom seemed particrly interested in the abstract paintings adorning the walls.

    "Anna." Jack Simpson¡¯s voice came from behind me. Despite my disguise, he¡¯d recognized me instantly.

    "What are you doing here?" he asked, genuine surprise in his tone.

    "I entered with a ticket, or is that somehow offensive to Mr. Simpson?"

    My mood was sour, making my response sharper than intended.

    Jack studied my face, seemingly reading my underlying frustration.

    "You¡¯re here for Kieran Green, aren¡¯t you? I can introduce you."

    I removed my sunsses, staring directly into his eyes. "So it really was your family working against me behind the scenes."

    Anna¡¯s POV

    When Jack made that inviting gesture, I didn¡¯t refuse. Despite knowing the Simpson family was working against me, I wouldn¡¯t let personal feelings get in the way of a potential solution to my loan problems.

    As I approached Kieran Green, I caught that fleeting expression of difort on his face.

    "Ms. Shaw, lovely to see you! I¡¯ve been meaning to schedule that coffee with you after the holidays," he said, extending his hand while his eyes darted nervously.

    I maintained my professional smile and shook his hand. "You¡¯re too kind, Mr. Green. I know you¡¯re busy, so I thought I¡¯d save you the trouble of reaching out."

    Jack smoothly excused himself. "T¡¯ll leave you two to talk while I check out the other exhibits."

    The moment Jack walked away, Kieran¡¯s facade crumbled. His expression cooled significantly. "Ms.

    Shaw, to be frank, I can¡¯t help you with your request."

    I dropped the act as well. "I¡¯m following standard procedure with my application. What exactly can¡¯t you help with, Mr. Green? Is it that you can¡¯t, or won¡¯t?"

    That struck a nerve. His expression hardened instantly. "I¡¯m simply following regtions, Ms. Shaw. Please don¡¯t put me in a difficult position."

    Anger bubbled up inside me, though I kept my voice measured while my expression turned serious. "And these regtions you mention-are they specifically designed for Shaw Corp?"

    After leaving Kieran, my anger had nowhere to go. Jack hurried over, feigning concern. "How did it go?"

    I couldn¡¯t contain myself any longer.

    "As if you don¡¯t know? Why bother pretending to be helpful? Do you think I¡¯m stupid?"

    A sh of guilt crossed Jack¡¯s face before he slipped back into his lecturing mode. "Why are you so fixated on Skke District? You must realize the risks for Shaw Corp are enormous¡ªyou can¡¯t afford the losses."

    His words only fueled my rage. I turned to leave, but heard him following quickly behind, his voice suddenly tinged with what sounded like genuine concern.

    "What¡¯s more important-that historic building or you? Have you considered what would happen to Elizabeth and Margaret if you gamble away the entire Shaw fortune on one old building?"

    I whirled around, eyes zing. "That¡¯s my business, not yours."

    I turned away again, my heart racing, chest tight.

    Behind me, I heard a confrontation brewing. Sean was intercepting Jack, preventing him from following me.

    Though I didn¡¯t stop walking, Jack¡¯s aggressive voice carried clearly.

    "Who do you think you are?"

    Sean responded calmly, "How do you know Ms. Shaw won¡¯t seed? She¡¯s always fought fairly, never sabotaging anyone. If those using underhanded tactics win in the end, then God must be blind."

    Jack¡¯s coldugh followed. "Shaw¡¯s employees are just as naive as she is."

    His words stung because they reflected my own doubts. In this world, ying by the rules sometimes seemed futile against backroom dealings¡ªa reality I was reluctantly learning to face.

    Rachel rushed over with unexpected news. "Ms. Shaw, I just ran into Ms. Price! She¡¯s performing at the neighboring exhibition and would like to treat you to lunch afterward. Should be finishing soon."

    "Nora Price?" I asked, surprised.

    "Yes, she insists you join her-says it¡¯s to thank you for helping her twice."

    I nodded slightly, touched that Nora had remembered my small gestures of assistance.

    After waiting briefly in the car, Nora appeared, smiling as she approached. I learned she¡¯d just finished a piano performance.

    "Had I known, I would have watched instead of getting angry," I said half-jokingly.

    Nora got straight to the point. "You wants to meet with Kieran Green, right?"

    I surprised. "You know him?"

    Nora¡¯s lips curved slightly. "I do. Come on, I¡¯ll take you to see him. Your assistant mentioned you¡¯ve been stressed about the loan situation when he drove me home."

    I hesitated. "I just saw him. The Simpsons have clearly poisoned him against me."

    "Let¡¯s try again," Nora insisted confidently.

    I studied her for a moment, considering my limited options.

    "Alright, one more attempt."

    When we confronted Kieran again, his face immediately darkened. "Why are you back?"

    I stered on a brilliant smile, though my tone was sharp. "How could I stay away? You haven¡¯t fulfilled your promise, Mr. Green. I¡¯ll have to keep bothering you until you do."

    His expression grew uglier. "Your persistence won¡¯t change anything. I won¡¯t approve your application, no matter what. Keep pushing, and there will be consequences."

    As I prepared to counter, Nora stepped forward from behind me, her voice like silk. "Kieran, it¡¯s been a while."

    In that instant, Kieran¡¯s expression transformedpletely. He looked as though he¡¯d been struck by lightning, his face registering pure panic.

    After leaving the exhibition, my mood had lifted considerably. "I should be the one treating you to lunch today.

    Nora, what would you like?"

    "Let¡¯s go to Le Ciel," she suggested directly. "It¡¯s been ages since I¡¯ve been I paused at her suggestion. Le Ciel was among Skyview City¡¯s most exclusive restaurants, typically reserved for business partners or close friends. Was she considering me a friend?

    Noticing my hesitation, Nora added, "Unless you prefers somewhere else..."

    "Le Ciel sounds perfect," I decided quickly, turning to Rachel. "Please reserve us a private room."

    "No need," Nora smiled. "I already made a reservation, just in case you agreed."

    Seated in the private dining room, I gestured for the waiter to give Nora the menu first, watching as she ordered with practiced ease.

    "It¡¯s been so long since I¡¯ve dined here," Nora said with a hint of mncholy. "You know, I don¡¯t have many friends in Skyview City. It¡¯s too depressing toe to ces like this alone. Anna, thank you for joining me."

    Her words softened something in me. I typically maintained my distance from others, but decided to lower my guard.

    "No need for thanks. You helped me tremendously today. I had no idea you knew Kieran Green." My curiosity got the better of me. "I have to ask though ¡ªdo you have some kind of leverage over him?"

 Chapter 88: First Snow, Last Hope

    <h4>Chapter 88: First Snow, Last Hope</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Nora¡¯s eyes flickered briefly before she took a deliberate sip of her wine. The crystal ss caught the light, casting ruby shadows across the pristine tablecloth.

    "About two years ago, we met at an industry cocktail event," she said, her voice unnervingly calm. "Kieran slipped something into my drink."

    My stomach clenched as though I¡¯d swallowed ice. I recognized the t affect in her voice-the protective numbness thates from retelling a trauma you¡¯ve learned to package neatly for others.

    "A woman like me can¡¯t survive among these powerful men without some form of protection," Nora continued, absently tracing the rim of her ss. "I recorded everything-his behavior, his words, his... attempts. All of it."

    "Wasn¡¯t that dangerous?" I whispered, my appetite suddenly gone.

    Nora¡¯s lips curved into a smile that didn¡¯t reach her eyes. "Of course it was. I understand these aren¡¯t people I can afford to antagonize. The recording is just insurance, not a weapon. I never thought it would actually help someone else." She looked at me directly. "Until today."

    My chest tightened with empathy.

    "Won¡¯t Kieran retaliate against you for this?"

    Nora shook her head, her eyes hardening with conviction. "For two years, I¡¯ve pretended not to recognize him whenever we cross paths. Once he approves your application, he knows I won¡¯t threaten him with the video again. Kieran married into his wealth¡ªhis father-inw gave him

    everything. He won¡¯t risk losing it all."

    "Good," I said, rxing slightly. But inside, I felt a mixture of emotions swirling like oil and water. How many men like Kieran existed in Skyview City¡¯s elite circles, hiding predatory behavior behind respected positions?

    The thought of his family-man image in media interviews made my skin crawl with disgust.

    Three dayster, my loan application was approved. I knew this gamble was essentially betting everything mortgaging all our assets including the historical building that had belonged to my family for generations. Jack was right; I was taking an enormous risk.

    But in business, ying it safe rarely yields rewards. My natural response to advice has always been selective-from people I care about, I¡¯ll listen to anything; from those I don¡¯t, their words might as well be white noise.

    Shaw Corp¡¯s annual celebration was in full swing. Watching my employees enjoy the bonuses and perks l¡¯d arranged gave me a sense of

    satisfaction amid my personal turmoil.

    When executives approached with champagne toasts, I politely declined, letting Sean handle the social obligations.

    I noticed the subtle nces some cast between Sean and me, their eyes carrying unspoken spection. I didn¡¯t care. Office gossip was the least of my concerns.

    "Ms. Shaw, to Shaw Estate or Goldenleaf Manor?" Rachel asked as we prepared to leave early.

    "Goldenleaf Manor. Everyone should be asleep by now," I replied after a moment¡¯s consideration.

    As the car started, Rachel suddenly announced, "Ms. Shaw, it¡¯s snowing."

    I looked up through the window to see delicate kes drifting down, illuminated by the streetlights. Skyview City had been unusually dry this season, the snow arrivingter than usual. By the time we reached home, a substantial nket of white covered the grounds, awakening an unexpected mncholy in me.

    I rarely took photos¡ªtoo busy with work to indulge in such things. But tonight, somethingpelled me to pull out my phone and capture several images of the snow-coveredndscape.

    I even took a selfie, snow dusting my hair, my face illuminated by the ethereal glow of winter. I posted them to Instagram with the caption "First snow brings good fortune."

    After my shower, I checked my phone to find over three hundred likes and two pages ofments. But the one name I searched for wasn¡¯t among them.

    I opened my messaging thread with Marcus-filled with my unanswered texts. I dialed his number again.

    "Ms. Shaw, Marcus is... still unable to take your call today." Peter Reed¡¯s voice carried the same rehearsed regret I¡¯d heard daily for weeks.

    Painnced through my chest, but I swallowed it. "Is Uncle Marcus feeling any better?"

    "He¡¯s improving. Please don¡¯t worry, Ms. Shaw."

    "Good," I replied simply before hanging up, a hollow ache spreading beneath my ribs.

    ---

    Christmas arrived, and I¡¯d arranged a week¡¯s vacation. When I showed my grandmother Margaret the airline tickets I¡¯d purchased, she waved her hand dismissively. "No, no, my old bones can¡¯t handle that flight. Take your mother traveling instead."

    Elizabeth was equally resistant.

    "What¡¯s there to see abroad that I haven¡¯t already seen? You young people go enjoy yourselves. Your grandmother and I will have a traditional Christmas at home-attend midnight mass, enjoy some peace and quiet. And pray the Lord blesses our family with prosperity in theing year."

    No amount of persuasion would change their minds. I spent Christmas Eve with them, enjoying avish holiday dinner, before departing with Rachel the following day.

    Secretly, I¡¯d altered our itinerary.

    Instead of the nned resort destination, we were headed to the European country where Marcus was supposedly recuperating. Deep down, I knew I needed confirmation, face-to-face, even if it meant humiliation.

    After settling into our luxury suite, I told Rachel she was free to make her own arrangements.

    "Ms. Shaw, I¡¯m not an outsider.

    Whatever you need to do, I won¡¯t interfere or gossip," she said carefully.

    I smiled faintly. "If I embarrass myself, just pretend you didn¡¯t see anything. I have my pride too."

    "Of course, Ms. Shaw." Her response confirmed she understood my true purpose.

    ---

    At six o¡¯clock that evening, our car stopped outside a castle-like estate.

    Rachel returned from the door with bewildering news.

    "Ms. Shaw, are you certain Marcus lives here?" Her expression was troubled.

    "What happened?" I looked up sharply.

    "The housekeeper says Marcus isn¡¯t home. They won¡¯t let us in. What¡¯s stranger is that she imed Marcus recovered ages ago."

    "Recovered ages ago?" I doubted Rachel heard correctly. "Are you sure?"

    "If Marcus lives here, then I¡¯m certain of what I heard. The housekeeper was quite cold and threatened to call security if we didn¡¯t leave."

    I dialed Marcus¡¯s number immediately.

    Once again, Peter answered: "Ms. Shaw, Marcus is much better today, but he¡¯s still unavable to speak with you."

    Suppressing my rising fury and hurt, I kept my voice deliberately neutral. "Is that so? Then let Marcus rest." After hanging up, my expression darkened.

    "The housekeeper says he¡¯s not home?"

    "Yes," Rachel confirmed.

    "Then we¡¯ll wait," I decided, unease and suspicion growing by the minute.

    Six hourster, a ck Bentley glided past. Though I didn¡¯t see Marcus, I spotted Peter Reed in the passenger seat. After the car disappeared through the estate gates, I instructed Rachel:

    "Take the gifts from the trunk and deliver them. Just drop them off ande back."

    "Ms. Shaw, aren¡¯t you going in?" Rachel asked, surprised.

    I closed my eyes, exhaustion and heartache overwhelming me. "I¡¯m tired."

    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and

    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 89: The Missed Chance

    <h4>Chapter 89: The Missed Chance</h4>

    Peter¡¯s POV

    I epted the elegantly wrapped boxes from the security guard, examining the expensive health supplements and Christmas gifts with a skeptical eye.

    The packaging alone screamed luxury-handcrafted paper with embossed gold trim and a silk ribbon that probably cost more than what most people spend on an entire gift.

    "Mr. Murphy¡¯s friend?" I asked, though I already had my suspicions.

    "What kind of friend?"

    The guard shrugged, his expression professionally nk. "Asian woman.

    Very professional, carried herself like someone important. Had an assistant with her."

    _Rachel Wilson_, I thought immediately. Not "Mr. Murphy¡¯s friend" at all.

    I was still inspecting the gifts when the housekeeper rushed toward me, her typicallyposed demeanor reced with barely concealed rm.

    "Those twodies haven¡¯t left yet?" she asked, wringing her hands nervously.

    "They¡¯ve been waiting outside in their car for hours now."

    My body stiffened instantly. "They?

    Who came here?"

    "Twodies iming to be Mr. Murphy¡¯s friends," she exined.

    "Their name was Shaw."

    The box in my hands crashed to the floor. The sound of something delicate shattering inside barely registered through the sudden roaring in my ears.

    "Shit!" I muttered, already turning to sprint up the grand staircase, taking the steps two at a time.

    I burst into Marcus¡¯s bedroom without knocking, something I¡¯d never dared before. My heart hammered against my ribs as I fought to catch my breath.

    "Sir, we have a situation," I managed, my voice betraying more panic than I¡¯d intended.

    Marcus was in the process of unbuttoning his shirt, preparing for his evening shower. At my entrance, his hands froze, then deliberately refastened the buttons he¡¯d just undone. His movements were careful, measured¡ªat odds with the sharpness that immediately entered his gaze.

    "What is it?" His voice remained level.

    "Ms. Shaw is here." The words hung in the air between us like a live grenade.

    I watched his face carefully, catching the momentary crack in hisposure ¡ªa Hash of somethingplex and unreadable darting across his features before disappearing behind his usual mask.

    "Ms. Shaw has been waiting outside for hours," I continued breathlessly.

    "That ck sedan that just left¡ªit was probably hers."

    Marcus¡¯s eyes narrowed to steel points.

    "Where is she now?"

    I pped my thigh in frustration before turning on my heel and bolting back down the corridor, my footsteps echoing off the marble floors.

    By the time I returned, panting and disheveled, Marcus had already dressed himself properly and was making his way downstairs. His movements were careful but determined, his face an imprable wall ofposure.

    "Sir, Ms. Shaw has already left," I reported, unable to mask my disappointment. My chest burned with self-recrimination. "She called me this afternoon, and I told her you were still recovering. She must have realized we were hiding something and left angry."

    Marcus stood utterly still at the foot of the grand staircase. The winter moonlight streaming through the tall windows cast half his face in shadow, making his expression even harder to read.

    "Should we send someone to find her?" I ventured cautiously, desperate to salvage the situation.

    "No." The word fell between us like a stone.

    "But..." I pressed, unable to let this opportunity slip away. "Ms. Shaw rarely shows initiative like this. She flew all the way from America during Christmas just to see you..."

    "Pretend she was never here," Marcus cut me off, his voice low and final.

    I fell silent, recognizing the futility of further argument. Given Marcus¡¯s current circumstances, perhaps avoiding Ms. Shaw was the wisest course. But my heart ached at the missed opportunity. Ms. Shaw had taken an unprecedented step bying here, and now this chance was squandered.

    Back at the hotel suite, I found Rachel hunched over a pack of crackers, crumbs scattered across herp. The sight jolted me from my fog of disappointment-we¡¯d both skipped dinner.

    "Hungry? Order room service," I said, my voice hollow as the emptiness spreading through my chest. "No need to survive on snacks."

    Rachel¡¯s eyes lit up instantly. "Ms. Shaw, what would you like to eat?"

    I shook my head, every movement requiring effort I didn¡¯t have. "I¡¯m not hungry. Going to bed." My gaze drifted to the window, where lights from the unfamiliar European city blurred through the ss. "Book our flights.

    The earliest one to... just follow our original itinerary. Get everything arranged."

    I struggled to keep my voice steady, to hide how thoroughly Marcus¡¯s deception had shattered me.

    Sleep offered no refuge. In my dreams, Jack Simpson¡¯s face loomed over me, our wedding night ying out in excruciating detail-his indifference, my loneliness, the hollow feeling of realizing I¡¯d married a stranger. I woke gasping for air, sheets twisted around my legs, my nightgown stered to my skin with sweat. My head throbbed mercilessly.

    I dragged myself to the bathroom, where the mirror reflected a stranger¡ª eyes ssy with fever, skin ashen.

    _Perfect. Physical misery to match the emotional kind._

    Somehow I managed to shower and pull on a cashmere turtleneck, though each movement sent spikes of pain through my joints.

    "Ms. Shaw, breakfast arrived. We should leave for the airport soon," Rachel called through the door.

    When I emerged, her expression fell.

    "Ms. Shaw, you look terrible. Are you feeling ill?"

    "Let¡¯s eat. Don¡¯t want to miss our flight," I replied, my voice scraping like sandpaper.

    ©`©`©`

    The hum of the private jet¡¯s engines lulled me into a fitful sleep until Rachel¡¯s touch on my shoulder startled me awake.

    "Ms. Shaw, you have a fever," she said, pressing a cool hand to my forehead.

    "How are you feeling?"

    "Water," I croaked, my throat burning as though I¡¯d swallowed broken ss.

    Rachel quickly passed me a bottle.

    "You must have caught cold waiting in that car for hours. We should have left once you started feeling unwell."

    I swallowed the fever reducer she produced from somewhere, then surrendered again to sleep, grateful for the temporary escape from both physical difort and the relentless ache of Marcus¡¯s rejection.

    ---

    Two days of fever-induced deliriumter, voices prated my cocoon of misery.

    "You¡¯re here?" I mumbled I, struggling

    to focus on Catherine Murphy¡¯s face swimming before me.

    Catherine dumped an assortment of medication onto the bed with theatrical ir. "Of course I¡¯m here! Came specifically to bring you medicine!" She

    turned toward the door. "Oscar, get in here and check on her!"

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Oscar Porter appeared, thrusting a thermometer at me. "Put this under your arm."

    "I¡¯m already better," I lied, taking it anyway.

    After checking the reading, Oscar raised an eyebrow. "99.3. Somehow you managed to catch a cold in the Caribbean. That¡¯s quite the achievement, Anna."

    I studied the unlikely pair, curiosity momentarily overshadowing my misery. "How did you two end up here together? Just to bring me medicine?"

    Catherineunched into an exnation, words tumbling out rapid-fire. "Uncle Marcus skipped Christmas in America again. Grandpa William was counting on seeing him and got really upset. None of us dared leave Murphy Estate-we¡¯ve been stuck there keeping Grandpapany.

    When I called you, Rachel told me you¡¯ve been sick for days. I figured Caribbean medicine couldn¡¯tpare to what we could bring, so I begged Grandpa to let mee. Ran into Oscar at the airport¡ªhe wasing here for vacation anyway."

    "Meeting some friends here," Oscar added.

    I smiled weakly, genuinely touched by their concern. "It¡¯s just a minor cold.

    Being on vacation, my body decided to fully rx by shutting downpletely." _The truth-that heartbreak had weakened my immune system-seemed too pathetic to admit._

    ---

    Later that evening, after a hot shower had restored some of my energy, I stepped onto the balcony to find Catherine locked in an embrace with a tall, blue-eyed stranger. Their lips met in a passionate kiss before they noticed me.

    "So much for bringing me medicine," I teased.

    Catherine linked one arm through her lover¡¯s and the other through mine.

    "The medicine was absolutely the priority. Everything else was... coincidental."

    I rolled my eyes. "Right."

    Watching their easy affection, something impulsive and reckless surged through me¡ªa desperate need to escape the shadow of Marcus Murphy.

    "Ask if your friend has any single buddies," I said, forcing lightness into my voice. "Preferably with blue eyes. I have a thing for blue eyes."

    Catherine froze, staring at me as if I¡¯d grown a second head. "What the hell?

    What¡¯s going on with you?"

    I feigned innocence. "What do you mean?"

    Her expression turned serious. "You know exactly what I mean. What about you and Uncle Marcus? Is it appropriate to be looking for men behind his back?"

    I stiffened, my fingers digging into the balcony railing until my knuckles turned white. The Caribbean breeze suddenly felt too cold against my fever-flushed skin.

    "We don¡¯t have that kind of rtionship," I said, keeping my voice carefully t. "We never did."

    The words scraped my throat raw as they left my mouth. This was the defense I¡¯d built for myself¡ªa wall of indifference to protect the wounded part of me that had flown across an ocean only to be rejected.

    Catherine studied my face with unsettling intensity. "What happened?

    One minute you¡¯re constantly asking Grandpa William about Uncle Marcus: injuries, and the next you¡¯re acting like he means nothing to you."

    I curled up on the nearby lounge chair, clutching my water ss with both hands to hide their trembling. I couldn¡¯t let anyone see how deeply Marcus¡¯s rejection had cut me.

    "I just respect him as a family elder," I said after a deep breath. "Nothing more."

    I paused, then forced myself to continue. "He¡¯s been good to me, and all I can offer in return is empty concern." The admission felt like swallowing shards of ss, but I pushed through to the conclusion I¡¯d reached during my feverish nights:

    "We¡¯re ultimately not traveling the same path. There¡¯s no point in forcing it."

    Catherine said nothing, but her eyes reflected disbelief. She wasn¡¯t buying it, but mercifully, she didn¡¯t press further.

    The next evening, Catherine dragged me to a beach bonfire party. "The final celebration before we all head back to reality," she insisted.

    I¡¯d switched my usual business attire for a simple white sundress that caught the breeze as I walked. The moment I stepped onto the sand, I felt dozens of eyes turn toward me. My skin prickled under the collective gaze.

    Oscar Porter materialized beside me, practically ripping off his Hawaiian shirt to drape it over my shoulders.

    "I swear I¡¯m never having daughters," he muttered, eyeing the staring men with murderous intent. "I can¡¯t stand all these guys looking at you like that.

    It¡¯s driving me crazy."

    Iughed despite myself, adjusting the oversized shirt around my shoulders.

    "You¡¯re worse than my father ever was."

    My smile vanished when Oscar suddenly tensed, tugging frantically at my sleeve.

    "Uh... my brother¡¯s here," he whispered.

    My body went rigid, ice flooding my veins despite the tropical heat. "You told him?" I hissed through clenched teeth.

    "God, no!" Oscar¡¯s hands flew up defensively. "I haven¡¯t even called home. I have no idea how he found this ce."

    My eyes scanned the crowd until I spotted him. Logan sat at the beachside bar, looking absurdly out of ce in his button-down shirt and cks among the swimsuits and casual wear. He sipped whiskey, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that

    made my skin crawl.

    "I¡¯m tired. I¡¯m heading back," I murmured to Oscar, then grabbed Rachel¡¯s arm and fled, leaving nothing but footprints in the sand behind us.

    I¡¯ll Back at the hotel, I escaped into the bathroom, letting the hot shower wash away the beach sand and the unsettling feeling of being watched.

    When I emerged in my silk pajamas, the suite was eerily quiet.

    "Rachel?" I called out, hearing only the distant ssh of the pool outside our balcony.

    After drying my hair, I stepped out of the bedroom to investigate. Without warning, strong arms encircled me from behind. I felt the hard buttons of a suit jacket pressing against my back through the thin fabric of my nightwear. Before I could react, unfamiliar lips crushed against mine.

    For a disorienting second, my mind shed to that mysterious man from room 3303. But this was different¡ª this kiss held no tenderness, only raw possession and control.

    I struggled violently, grabbing the first object my fingers found¡ªa decorative vase-and smashed it against his head.

    When his grip loosened, I bolted toward the door.

    "Annie."

    That name-spoken in that voice-froze me in ce. I turned slowly, heart hammering against my ribs.

    Logan Porter stood in my hotel suite, blood trickling from his temple where the vase had connected. He¡¯d removed his signature sses, his eyes burning with a disturbing cocktail of desire, anger, and obsession.

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "How the hell did you get in here?" I demanded, clutching the sculpture tighter, its edge already smeared with his blood from when I¡¯d instinctively swung it.

    "Swam across the pool and climbed up your balcony." He said it casually, as if breaking and entering was perfectly reasonable behavior. The Porter family heir crawling up balconies like some deranged stalker? The absurdity of it struck me even through my panic.

    Logan touched his forehead, examining the blood on his fingers with detached interest. "I¡¯m bleeding."

    Only then did I fully register his injury. Blood snaked down his temple, staining his cor. His white button-down clung to his chest, translucent from pool water, crimson flowers blooming where the blood dripped.

    A sudden chill whispered across my skin. My silk nightgown-the water from his clothes had soaked through mine when he¡¯d bumped into me. The thin fabric had be nearly transparent. No wonder his eyes kept drifting downward.

    "GET THE HELL OUT!" I snatched a pillow from the bed, holding it against my chest, shame and fury colliding inside me.

    Had Logan Porterpletely lost his mind? Breaking into my hotel room was criminal enough, but the way he stared at me made my skin crawl.

    He reached for a tissue, pressing it against his wound with infuriating nonchnce. "I heard you were sick, so I came to check on you."

    "Not needed," I replied, my voice sharper than broken ss. My mind raced through escape options.

    The suite door clicked open-Rachel returning with medicine. Her eyes widened at the scene.

    "Mr. Porter?" she positioned herself between us, a human shield.

    Logan remained eerily calm, as if bleeding in a woman¡¯s hotel room at midnight was perfectly normal.

    "Ms. Shaw, are you alright?" Rachel asked, never turning her back to Logan.

    "I¡¯m fine." My voice was ice despite the tropic heat. With Rachel here, I felt marginally safer.

    Three blood-soaked tissues already littered the floor around Logan.

    Despite everything, a flicker of concern tried to surface¡ª1 squashed it immediately. I retreated to the bedroom, calling Oscar to collect his clearly unhinged brother.

    "Annie, you¡¯re here? Feeling better?" William Murphy attempted a smile when I entered his study at Murphy Estate, but exhaustion clung to him like a shadow.

    I handed my Christmas gift to his butler, then moved to prepare tea¡ªa habit ¡¯a developed during my visits.

    "Completely recovered. Catherine mentioned you were feeling down, so I thought I¡¯d check in on you."

    "It¡¯s always our Annie who cares about this old man. Not like Marcus, that troublemaker who doesn¡¯t even call his father." William¡¯s piercing eyes seemed to search my soul. "Annie, have you been in contact with my youngest son?"

    I kept my eyes fixed on the teapot, my pulse quickening. "Yes, I have.

    Marcus¡¯s injuries haven¡¯t fully healed, so he can¡¯t make it back for Christmas.

    Don¡¯t be upset, I¡¯m sure he¡¯s thinking of you."

    The words tasted strange defending Marcus when he¡¯d deceived me. My chest tightened with conflicting emotions.

    When the butler appeared with an exquisite pair of jade bracelets, rm bells rang in my head. These were clearly meant for Marcus¡¯s future wife.

    "This is too precious, Mr. Murphy. I can¡¯t ept it," I stammered, my palms suddenly damp.

    William¡¯s face softened with paternal warmth. "If I¡¯m giving it to you, just take it."

    Was he testing my feelings toward Marcus? Panic flooded through me, my heart pounding so loudly I was certain he could hear it. I couldn¡¯t ept such a gift¡ªit carried expectations I wasn¡¯t prepared to fulfill.

    ---

    That evening, Elizabeth entered my bedroom at Shaw Estate, her expression serious beneath the warm glow of the bedsidemp. Outside, the first snow of winter drifted past my window.

    "Pastor Collins suggested you should get married and have children next year, or you¡¯ll face challenges withte marriage and childbearing," she said carefully.

    I sighed internally while maintaining a neutral expression. "I¡¯m still young, Mom. Shaw Corp is at its growth stage right now. There¡¯s no rush."

    "But your grandmother is anxious."

    Elizabeth¡¯s forehead creased with worry. "The pastor advised her to take care of her health. Between the lines, he seems to think there might be health issues in the next couple of years."

    Frustration bubbled up inside me.

    These pastoral predictions always sent them into spirals of worry.

    "Aren¡¯t you taking his words too seriously? I should scheduleprehensive checkups for both of you."

    Mom shot me an irritated look. "Is this about medical checkups? We already have thorough examinations twice a year. Your grandmother is getting older, and some things are difficult to discuss. Look at Mr. Watson¡ªhe was in excellent health, even went winter swimming regrly, reportedly never even caught a cold, yet he passed away in his sleep." She paused meaningfully.

    "He was several years younger than your grandmother."

    Seeing the genuine concern in her eyes, my irritation melted away. She took my hand, her voice softening. "I know you¡¯re under tremendous pressure, and I don¡¯t want to push you. But our family only has you as the heir. When your grandmother and I are gone, you¡¯ll be the only Shaw left. I¡¯m just worried you won¡¯t be able to handle everything by yourself."

    I nodded, a kaleidoscope of emotions swirling inside me. "I understand. I¡¯ll keep this in mind."

    After she left, I picked up my phone, staring at the contact simplybeled 3303." After several moments of hesitation, I texted him about continuing our "arrangement." His response came quickly¡ªa simple rejection.

    I didn¡¯t force it. I texted back that it was fine.

 Chapter 90: The Man Behind Room 3303

    <h4>Chapter 90: The Man Behind Room 3303</h4>

    Marcus¡¯s POV

    I stared at my phone beneath the polished conference table, reading Anna¡¯s message for the tenth time: "It¡¯s fine." Two simple words that twisted in my gut like a knife. The dismissive finality of her response to my rejection of continuing our arrangement left me uncharacteristically unsettled.

    In the gleaming conference room, twenty executives waited for my reaction to the presentation. I forced my attention back to the spreadsheets disyed on the wall-to-wall screen, my expression betraying nothing of the storm brewing inside me.

    Who was I to Anna Shaw? In public,

    "Uncle Marcus" - the family friend, the respected elder. In private, a nameless lover she knew only by a hotel room number. If I lost both versions of myself in her eyes, what would remain?

    My finger hovered over the screen.

    _Tomorrow night?_ I typed, then hesitated. Was I being pathetic?

    Desperate? I deleted the message, then typed it again.

    "Mr. Murphy?" The analyst¡¯s voice faltered.

    "Continue," Imanded, my tone leaving no room for questions.

    I pressed send before I could reconsider, then set the phone face down, determined to ignore it for at least five minutes. My heart pounded against my ribcage like a teenager¡¯s, not befitting a man who controlled a global financial empire.

    Three excruciating minutes passed before my phone vibrated softly against the table.

    One word: "Yes."

    Something unfamiliar expanded in my chest - relief mixed with anticipation. I allowed myself exactly two seconds to savor it before shutting down all visible emotion.

    "That¡¯s all for today. Peter,e with me." I stood abruptly, ending the meeting thirty minutes early. The executives exchanged confused nces but knew better than to question my decision.

    "Sir?" Peter Reed fell into step beside me as we strode through the corridors. "Is everything alright?"

    "Book the jet. We¡¯re returning to Skyview City tonight."

    "Tonight?" Peter¡¯s eyebrows shot up.

    "But the meeting-"

    "Reschedule it." My tone brooked no argument.

    - - -

    Skyview City materialized below as our private jet began its descent.

    Would Anna continue our arrangement if she discovered the man from room 3303 was actually "Uncle Marcus? The thought sent cold dread through my veins.

    At precisely 8:45 PM, fifteen minutes before our appointed time, I entered the familiar hotel suite.

    I paced the room, something I never did in any other context. My usual iron self-control seemed to evaporate whenever Anna was concerned. At 9:02, a soft knock echoed through the room.

    When our bodies met, I touched her with uncharacteristic gentleness, tracing patterns across her skin as if memorizing a map I feared losing ess to. My fingertips lingered at her corbone, her wrists, the delicate curve where her neck met her shoulder.

    Her responsiveness fueled something primal within me, yet I tempered my usual intensity with a tenderness that surprised even myself.

    "What¡¯s this?" Her fingers brushed against the raised scar on my forearm, her touch feather-light.

    "A scar," I answered, voice deliberately neutral.

    "You were injured?" Concernced her voice, sending an unexpected warmth through my chest.

    Instead of answering, I captured her lips with mine, diverting her attention from questions I wasn¡¯t prepared to answer. Some secrets were better left buried, especially the ones that might reveal too much of myself to her.

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I woke to sunlight streaming through the half-drawn curtains, my body pleasantly sore in ways that broughtst night rushing back. Blinking away sleep, I realized the other side of the bed was empty. Again.

    The suite had been meticulously cleaned¡ªno evidence remained of our encounter except for the marks scattered across my skin. I sat up, wincing slightly as I surveyed the damage. Purple bruises bloomed along my corbone and inner thighs.

    I pulled open the bedside drawer, counting the remaining condoms. Four missing. The realization sent heat rushing to my face.

    "At least someone¡¯s thorough," I muttered, unable to decide if this arrangement left me satisfied or hollow. Our physical connection was undeniable, but the emotional distance he maintained-disappearing before I woke, never showing his face in daylight-created a peculiar ache I refused to examine too closely.

    ---

    The historical building in Skke District looked better than I¡¯d

    expected. Sunlight glinted off the fresh copper on the Victorian-era roof, recing what generations of rain had corroded. The structure stood proud against the winter sky, like it had weathered the past century just to reach this moment of renewal.

    "The interior framing should bepleted by March," I told Sean, who was taking detailed notes beside me. "I want Mother and Grandmother to visit during summer vacation. Make sure the master suite on the ground floor is prioritized."

    I pictured Grandmother Margaret enjoying tea on the wraparound porch, Mother Elizabeth tending to heritage roses in the garden. This ce would offer them peace away from Skyview City¡¯s relentless social obligations. The thought warmed me against the chill.

    "Holy shit!" Catherine eximed, her eyes widening as I removed my scarf in her new apartment. "What happened to your neck?"

    Her luxurious new home-Marcus¡¯s gift-sparkled with contemporary elegance. Floor-to-ceiling windows captured the Financial District skyline, while minimalist furniture in cream and charcoal created a sophisticated backdrop for the art being installed.

    "Keep your voice down," I hissed, hastily rewrapping the scarf. The workers hanging her new paintings pretended not to hear.

    Catherine dragged me into her bedroom, shutting the door before her curiosity exploded. "You look like you were mauled by a tiger. Last night must have been... intense."

    "It was fine," I shrugged, trying to appear nonchnt while heat crept up my neck.

    She leaned closer, voice dropping conspiratorially. "Still the same guy?

    That 3303 mystery man?"

    "Yes," I admitted. "Easier that way.

    Lessplicated."

    _Lessplicated than what?_ The unasked question lingered between us.

    "So my uncle really has no chance?"

    Catherine¡¯s expression fell slightly.

    Anna¡¯s POV

    My spine stiffened instantly. "I¡¯d rather not discuss Marcus Murphy." The mention of his name felt like salt in a wound that refused to heal. After his rejection in Europe, I¡¯d locked away any lingering feelings, determined never to be that vulnerable again.

    Catherine quickly drew an X over her lips. "Sorry! Forget I said anything.

    Whatever makes you happy."

    Her easy retreat told me she understood she¡¯d crossed a line, though I caught the wistfulness in her eyes. She still harbored foolish fantasies about her uncle and me.

    ---

    Over lunch in Catherine¡¯s gleaming kitchen, she casually dropped a bombshell.

    "Did you hear Lucy Taylor¡¯s staying with the Simpsons? They invited her for Christmas, but she¡¯s still there."

    I sipped my vegetable soup, keeping my expression neutral despite the strange twist in my stomach. My marriage to Jack felt like another lifetime-a Chapter closed and bound.

    "Good for Jack," I replied evenly.

    "Mary always wanted her for a daughter-inw. I hope she¡¯s happy now."

    Catherine snorted. "You wouldn¡¯t say that if you¡¯d seen the drama. George Simpson is furious-he wants someone from the right social circle for Jack.

    They even dragged Grandpa William into it, begging him to intervene."

    The image of William Murphy being pestered with Simpson family drama made me smile despite myself.

    "What did William do?" I asked, genuinely curious.

    "Kicked them out!" Catherineughed.

    "Told Mary not toe crying to her family about Simpson problems. It was glorious."

    "Mary¡¯s certainly devoted to Lucy," I observed dryly, remembering how my former mother-inw had constantly undermined me while promoting Lucy at every turn.

    Catherine¡¯s eyes gleamed with insight.

    "She needs someone she can control.

    You were too independent, too strong-willed. Lucy will bend to her every whim."

    I nodded slowly, finding peace in that truth where once there had been only pain.

    ---

    The charity g glittered with Skyview City¡¯s elite, all gathered to support the Children¡¯s Hospital expansion. I was discussing donation strategies with a hospital board member when I spotted them-Mary Simpson and Lucy Taylor, entering arm-in-arm.

    Lucy had changed. Gone was the aggressive confidence that had once defined her. She seemed smaller somehow, more cautious, her eyes constantly darting to Mary for approval. When she noticed me, she merely nodded slightly before averting her gaze.

    I maintained my distance, refusing to let old history disturb the event¡¯s purpose. Whatever game Lucy and the Simpsons were ying, I wanted no part in it. My life had moved beyond their petty machinations.

    - - -

    The morning of the Skke District auction arrived with crystalline rity.

    Rachel had my car detailed to perfection the previous day, the silver paint gleaming like liquid mercury under the winter sun.

    I adjusted my sunsses, checking my reflection onest time. This auction represented everything I¡¯d worked for ¡ªmy vision for Shaw Corp¡¯s future, my promise to my father¡¯s legacy.

    "Ready, Ms. Shaw?" Sean asked, portfolio tucked under his arm.

    I nodded, a calm determination settling over me. "It¡¯s time."

    Samuel¡¯s POV

    The Grand Ballroom hotel pulsed with quiet power. Crystal chandeliers cast honeyed light across America¡¯s business elite, their murmured conversations forming a symphony of ambition and calction.

    "Is Anna here yet?" Catherine

    Murphy¡¯s voice cut through the ambient chatter. She stood beside her father Phillip, elegant in a dress thatplemented hermanding presence, eyes scanning the crowd.

    "She just texted that she¡¯s on her way.

    Should be here any minute," I replied with practiced nonchnce, though a part of me tensed with anticipation.

    This auction would cement our partnership.

    I guided Nora through the crowd, my steps purposeful as I approached the various power yers. The Skke District auction had drawn them all like sharks to blood in the water.

    Everyone wanted a piece of what Anna Shaw had fought so hard to secure.

    "Mr. Murphy, pleasure to see you," I extended my hand to Phillip Murphy, whose firm handshake spoke of generations of wealth and influence.

    "Mr. Simpson, Mr. Simpson, it¡¯s been too long." I greeted both George and Jack with identical smiles while mentally cataloging the subtle tension between father and son. Useful information forter, perhaps.

    When I reached Sawyer Walker, I maintained my pleasant expression despite the chill that settled between us. "Mr. Walker, good to see you."

    He stared at my outstretched hand with undisguised contempt, deliberately leaving me hanging as nearby conversations hushed. My palm burned with the public slight, but I kept my smile fixed, refusing to let him see me flinch.

    Joseph Walker quickly intercepted, grasping my hand firmly. "Samuel!

    When are you going toe by the Olympus Club? I¡¯d love to buy you a drink."

    I caught Nora¡¯s eye and deliberately misconstrued the invitation. "Joseph, you¡¯re going to get me in trouble! Not appropriate to talk about that kind of establishment in front of thedies.

    Nora might get the wrong idea." My tone remained light, but the barb was aimed squarely at Sawyer.

    Nora¡¯s fingers dug into my forearm. "I see some friends over there. Let me introduce you," she murmured, her voice tight with anxiety. I followed her gaze to find Sawyer¡¯s eyes fixed on her with an intensity.

    Instead of retreating, I pulled her closer. "My dear Nora is always so thoughtful, isn¡¯t she? So attentive." I turned deliberately toward Sawyer, my smile sharpening. "Wouldn¡¯t you agree, Mr. Walker?"

    Sawyer¡¯s eyes shed like struck flint.

    He gave Nora a dismissive once-over before saying loudly enough for nearby guests to hear: "Miss Price certainly maintains professional standards. Quite the dedicatedpanion. How much does she cost per month, Mr. Griffin? I¡¯ll double it if you¡¯ll let me borrow her services."

    The surrounding conversations stuttered to silence. Nora went rigid beside me, her face draining of color as if she¡¯d been physically struck.

    I swallowed my rage and smoothly slipped my arm around her shoulders, bothforting her and making a clear statement about our rtionship.

    "That¡¯s rather presumptuous, Mr. Walker. Nora is mypanion, not amodity to be traded. Even if you admire her, there are more gentlemanly ways to express it."

    I kept my tone conversational but allowed steel to enter my voice.

    "Besides, Nora is a person, not an object. Your suggestion is incredibly disrespectful."

    Then I turned to Nora with exaggerated surprise, deliberately loud enough for others to hear: "Wait, this is your ex-boyfriend? Now I understand why things didn¡¯t work out. Character clearly wasn¡¯t his strong suit." I tightened my embrace around her trembling shoulders, hoping to offer some protection from this public humiliation.

    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and

    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 91: The Missing Bid

    <h4>Chapter 91: The Missing Bid</h4>

    Catherine¡¯s POV

    The elegant foyer of the auction house buzzed with Skyview City¡¯s elite as I checked my phone for the tenth time in five minutes. No messages from Anna. My stomach twisted into a tight knot as I watched Samuel guide Nora away from that asshole Sawyer Walker.

    Joseph hurried to his brother¡¯s side with that cating expression he always wore when damage control was needed. "Samuel¡¯s just a hothead with a poisonous mouth. He tries to verbally destroy anyone he doesn¡¯t like."

    Sawyer¡¯s face remained locked in that stony mask of humiliation. Joseph nced at his watch, clearly trying to change the subject. "What time is it?

    Why hasn¡¯t Anna shown up yet?"

    The question sent a fresh wave of anxiety through me. Anna was neverte especially not for something this important. The Skke District auction was everything she¡¯d been working toward for months.

    "I don¡¯t know," I admitted, my voice tighter than l¡¯d intended. "She texted earlier saying she was on her way."

    The auction coordinator appeared at the main doors, signaling for everyone to take their seats. My pulse quickened as I scanned the entrance onest time.

    Joseph¡¯s brow furrowed. "You don¡¯t think something happened to her, do you?"

    His words sliced through me like a de of ice. After everything that had happened-Logan¡¯s betrayal, the "ident" at the Porter estatewas it naive to think Anna was simply runningte?

    Samuel approached, his usually confident expression now clouded with concern. We exchanged nces, a silent acknowledgment passing between us. Without a word, we both pulled out our phones, calling Anna and Rachel repeatedly.

    Voicemail. Every. Single. Time.

    "Something must have happened to Anna, I said, unable to keep the tremor from my voice. "Just days ago we were talking about how surprisingly calm things had been. I can¡¯t believe this is happening today of all days."

    Samuel¡¯s jaw tightened. "Let¡¯s not panic yet. Anna isn¡¯t one to give up easily. Let¡¯s take our seats."

    His words were measured, but the tightness around his eyes betrayed his real feelings. I took a deep breath, trying to slow my racing heart. That¡¯s when I spotted Jack Simpson weaving through the crowd toward us, his usuallyposed face marked with uncharacteristic tension.

    "Samuel, keep an eye on things here.

    I¡¯m going to talk to him," I murmured, already moving toward Jack.

    I¡¯d intended to interrogate him, but he spoke first: "Where¡¯s Anna? Why isn¡¯t she here yet?"

    I studied his face carefully, searching for any hint of deception. Finding none, my anxiety only deepened. "I was about to ask you the same question."

    Jack¡¯s genuine confusion sent ice water through my veins. If even Jack Simpson didn¡¯t know where Anna was, something was seriously wrong.

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Daniel Davis and I were racing to the auction when fate delivered a spine-chilling message. Just two blocks from our destination, a horrific scene unfolded before my eyes. A massive truck plowed into a white sedan¡ªmy car¡ªat the intersection, sending it flipping onto its side with a sickening crunch of metal.

    That should have been me in that car.

    If Sean hadn¡¯t insisted that Rachel pose as me and leave first, I would have been the one trapped in that twisted metal coffin.

    "Help them!" The words tore from my throat before I could process what was happening.

    Daniel mmed on the brakes and we both sprinted toward the wreckage.

    My heels wobbled on the asphalt, but adrenaline pushed me forward. A crowd was already gathering, their faces painted with horror and morbid fascination.

    I spotted Rachel crawling out from the back seat, her movements slow and pained. The wig meant to mimic my hairstyle hung askew, blood streaming down her forehead where her sunsses should have been. My chest constricted with guilt so intense it felt physical.

    "Where¡¯s Sean? How is Sean?" My voice was barely recognizable, thin and trembling with panic.

    Rachel pointed toward the driver¡¯s seat, her breathingbored. "Sean is trapped."

    Bystanders were discussing rescue options in urgent tones while sirens wailed in the distance. I stood there, designer clothes suddenly feeling like a costume, utterly useless in this moment of crisis.

    Sean spotted me from inside the wreckage. Even with blood trickling down his temple, his first thought was of my obligations.

    "Ms. Shaw, you should go. I¡¯m fine.

    The police will be here soon. You need to get to auction." His voice was weak but resolute, more concerned with my business than his own safety.

    Rachel yanked off the wig, revealing her matted hair. She tugged at my borrowed designer suit-now torn and bloodied-kicked off the heels, and fixed me with a determined stare.

    "Boss, you need to go. I¡¯ve got this." Her tone brooked no argument, but I could see the pain she was trying to hide.

    Daniel gently touched my elbow. "Ms. Shaw, it¡¯s time."

    _This is why I hired them-their dedication is unmatched. But am I really considering leaving them here?_ The internal battle raged inside me.

    The auction would determine the fate of Skke District, everything I¡¯d been fighting for. But these people had just taken a blow meant for me.

    "Both of you need to go to the hospital for aplete check-up." I heard myself giving instructions, as if the act might somehow absolve my guilt.

    "Don¡¯t skip it just because you feel fine. Head injuries can have dyed symptoms. You need thorough examinations."

    My voice grew firmer, but my legs felt like they might buckle at any moment.

    "Contact me immediately if there are any issues. Thepany will cover all medical expenses. Your safety is what matters most."

    _If that had been me in that car..._ I couldn¡¯tplete the thought. Rachel was physically strong, trained in self-defense. Sean was quick, alert. Both had been prepared. I might not have even had the strength to crawl out like Rachel had.

    The ambnce finally arrived, blue lights painting everyone¡¯s faces in ghostly hues. Paramedics rushed forward, pushing through the crowd with practiced efficiency.

    "T¡¯lle to the hospital to check on you both as soon as I finish at the auction," I promised, my tone heavy with concern and apology.

    With onest nce at the mangled white sedan-the vehicle that should have been my steel coffin¡ªI forced myself to turn away. Each step with Daniel toward the auction venue felt like a betrayal, but the clock was ticking. Someone had just tried to kill me, and I couldn¡¯t let them win.

 Chapter 92: Shattered Loyalties

    <h4>Chapter 92: Shattered Loyalties</h4>

    Catherine¡¯s POV

    Where the hell is Anna?

    My fingers drummed against the auction paddle I hadn¡¯t yet needed to raise. The Skke District lot would be up soon-the crown jewel of today¡¯s offerings. Without Anna here to lead our consortium¡¯s bidding strategy, everything we¡¯d worked for hung in jeopardy.

    I scanned the room again, my stomach clenching tighter with each passing minute. The Simpson faction sat four rows ahead, George¡¯s silver head bent toward Jack¡¯s in quiet conversation.

    "She should have been here an hour ago," I whispered to my assistant, wiping my damp palms against the silk of my dress. "Something¡¯s wrong This isn¡¯t like her at all."

    Samuel Griffin leaned toward me from the adjacent seat, his expression unusually grave. His eyes were fixed on the Simpsons, hard as flint.

    "Check the local news," he said, his voice barely audible above the auctioneer¡¯s call for a starting bid on a downtownmercial space.

    "What?" I fumbled for my phone, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe properly.

    "Check it now," Samuel insisted, a muscle working in his jaw. "I just got a notification." He nodded toward the Simpsons. "I underestimated how far they¡¯d go."

    My hands trembled as I pulled up the news app. The headline hit me like a physical blow: "Serious Traffic ident at Willow Street and Main Avenue Intersection. Multiple Injuries Reported."

    Ice flooded my veins. That intersection was directly on Anna¡¯s route here.

    Jack¡¯s POV

    I felt the vibration against my thigh before I heard it. Father shot me a warning nce as I pulled the phone from my pocket, his expression hardening when he saw me staring at the screen.

    "Put that away," he hissed, eyes locked on the auctioneer¡¯s rhythmic movements at the front of the room.

    But I couldn¡¯t tear my eyes from the news alert that had just popped up:

    "Serious ident at Willow Street and Main Avenue Intersection. White sedan destroyed in collision."

    The apanying photo showed a twisted wreck of metal I recognized instantly. That license te. That car model.

    _Anna¡¯s car._ My heart plummeted to the pit of my stomach. A cold sweat broke out across my forehead as my eyes slowly dragged up to meet my father¡¯s gaze.

    "Is this your doing?" The question escaped my lips in a hoarse whisper, my throat suddenly bone dry.

    Father¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but a muscle twitched in his jaw. "Focus.

    Skke District is about to be ours."

    Theplete absence of denial or even acknowledgment sent ice water through my veins. The father I thought I knew - stern but principled - had be a stranger before my eyes. The realization struck me with physical force, nearly knocking the air from my lungs.

    "Why would you do this?" I struggled to control my voice, aware of the curious nces from neighboring bidders.

    Father¡¯s eyes remained fixed on the auction proceedings, his voice dropping to a cial whisper. "I told her it could be settled amicably if she¡¯d cooperate with us. Or if she¡¯d agreed to remarry you." His eyes flicked to me briefly, disappointment evident. "Since you couldn¡¯t bring her back, I had to take matters into my own hands."

    Rage bubbled up inside me, bitter and scalding. "For a piece ofnd? Was it worth it?"

    "This isn¡¯t the time." His tone cut like a de. "Anna Shaw won¡¯t be making an appearance today. Get ready for our bid."

    The auction paddle felt impossibly heavy in my hand. I shoved it toward him, my decision crystallizing. "You do it. I¡¯m going to check on Anna."

    "Sit down." Father¡¯s voice was deadly quiet. "Walk out now, and you¡¯re finished at Simpson Group."

    I froze, not from fear of losing my position, but from shock that he would threaten his own son so casually. The disappointment that washed over me was profound, a wave of disillusionment that left nothing but wreckage in its wake.

    "Do you have any idea what¡¯s at stake today?" He leaned closer, teeth clenched. "You didn¡¯t see how I¡¯ve had to bow and scrape to your grandfather and uncle all these years." His expression shifted, almost pleading, though his eyes remained cold. "Son, she won¡¯t die from this. I simply made sure she couldn¡¯t attend the auction."

    He continued, his voice hardening once more. "If Simpson Group doesn¡¯t secure Skke District today, we miss our chance. I refuse to let outsiders dictate who my son marries."

    The words cut deep. Years ago, William Murphy had pushed me to marry Anna. I¡¯d resented him silently then, but now I only wished he¡¯d pushed harder, shaken me awake to what I was losing. I¡¯d missed so many opportunities already. Today, I wouldn¡¯t make the same mistake.

    "Dad, he¡¯s not an outsider. He¡¯s my grandfather." I started to rise, but Pax Powell¡¯s firm hand mped down on my shoulder.

    "Jack, listen to the chairman," Pax urged, his grip surprising in its strength. "Anna might be hurt, but she¡¯ll survive."

    Before I could respond, the bidding for Skke District surpassed five hundred million. Father¡¯s assistant had jumped the bid from three-eighty straight to five hundred. The room buzzed with excitement as several investors shook their heads and dropped out, leaving only three out-of-state development tycoons still in the running.

    No movement from Shaw Corp¡¯s section. My heart sank, confirmation that Anna truly wasn¡¯ting. Guilt wrapped around me like a physical weight, and I stopped struggling, though my mind was miles away.

    I looked up to find Samuel Griffin¡¯s contemptuous gaze fixed on me.

    Catherine Murphy¡¯s eyes burned with hatred as she shed me a dismissive gesture. Their silent usation was clear: This is who you really are. I couldn¡¯t argue. I wasplicit through my silence.

    The bidding quickly surpassed six billion dors. Money had be abstract, just numbers on a screen, disconnected from reality. A profound emptiness settled over me.

    Suddenly, amotion erupted at the entrance. Several uniformed police officers strode purposefully toward us, their expressions grim and determined.

    My pulse spiked, fear and dread coiling in my stomach.

    The lead officer presented a document.

    "George and Jack Simpson? Someone has reported your connection to a serious traffic ident. You¡¯ll need toe with us to assist with our investigation."

    Father¡¯s pupils constricted with shock.

    "Ridiculous! What ident? You have no evidence. Who made these usations? Let them face me directly."

    "I did."

    That voice impossibly familiar came from behind us. I whirled around to see Anna Shaw standing in the doorwayRelief and shame collided within me with such force I felt physically dizzy.

    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and

    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 93: Skylake District

    <h4>Chapter 93: Skke District</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    "Anna Shaw?" A familiar voice called out my name, cutting through the stunned silence that had fallen over the auction hall.

    "Yes, it¡¯s me." I nodded in response, keeping my expression deliberately calm despite the storm of emotions raging inside me.

    Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

    "She finally showed up." "Can¡¯t believe she¡¯s reporting George Simpson at a time like this." "That¡¯s either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid."

    These whispers washed over me like a gentle breeze-irrelevantpared to the n upying my mind. The auction had been interrupted at precisely the right moment, and I couldn¡¯t allow anything to distract me from my objective.

    Catherine rushed to my side, her eyes frantically scanning me for injuries.

    "Are you okay? What happened with the ident?"

    I could see the genuine concern in her eyes, but exining everything would have to wait. Right now, the only thing that mattered was ensuring Skke District didn¡¯t end up in George Simpson¡¯s hands.

    "We¡¯ll talk about everythingter," I said, my voice low but firm. "Today, you need to win Skke District.

    That¡¯s all that matters."

    Catherine¡¯s eyes widened in shock.

    "Me? Are you kidding? I can¡¯t do this!

    The bidding is almost at six billions now, you¡¯re going to give me a heart attack!"

    I understood her panic¡ªit was a staggering amount of money. But I trusted her, and more importantly, I needed her to step up in this crucial moment.

    "Don¡¯t be afraid, I know you can do it," I reassured her softly. "I need to go with them now. I¡¯m counting on you here."

    "Wait, you really trust me with this?" Catherine looked at me incredulously.

    <fn8e12> Find the newest release on FindN0vel</fn8e12>

    I knew exactly what she was thinking.

    This wasn¡¯t some trivial shopping decision-it was a multi-billion dor property acquisition. She was well aware that I had mortgaged everything for this opportunity, and failure would be catastrophic. But I had to leave the scene and draw George Simpson away.

    I nodded toward Samuel. "Besides, Samuel is here with you. What are you worried about?"

    Samuel shed me an "OK" sign, and I felt a small wave of relief wash over me. The bidding process was in capable hands with him present.

    George Simpson¡¯s face contorted with disbelief as the officers approached him. He clearly hadn¡¯t anticipated I would take such a drastic measure.

    "Anna Shaw, do you understand what you¡¯re saying?" he demanded, his voice tight with barely controlled rage.

    Though my heart hammered against my ribs, I maintained an outwardly calm demeanor. "I know exactly what I¡¯m saying, and I¡¯m willing to take responsibility for my actions today. Mr. Simpson, both of my assistants are in the hospital right now. Do you really want to discuss this matter here?"

    I knew I was gambling everything, but for Skke District-and for my injured assistants¡ªI was willing to take the risk.

    The "officer" nodded gravely. "We should continue this conversation at the precinct."

    George fixed me with an icy stare that could have frozen hell itself. I could feel the heat of his fury and the implicit threat behind his eyes, but instead of cowering, I met his gaze with a slight smile ying at the corners of my lips.

    "Mr. Simpson, shall we? The auction needs to continue, and we shouldn¡¯t waste everyone¡¯s time here."

    Realizing that maintaining the standoff would do him no good, George turned to Jack with a hard expression. "You handle the rest. I won¡¯t ept any failures." He instructed his assistant to stay and help Jack, while Pax Powell received a meaningful nce that clearly ordered him to keep close watch on everything.

    Jack looked at me, his expression aplicated mixture of confusion, concern, and something else I couldn¡¯t quite ce. I deliberately avoided his gaze, silently praying my n would work as we left the auction hall.

    Once inside the car, George immediately noticed it wasn¡¯t a police vehicle. Before he could voice his suspicions, he was firmly guided inside by two men who nked him on either side.

    His phone was confiscated, and I could imagine the confusion and rm blooming across his face as realization dawned. "You¡¯re not real police officers. Who are you people?" he would have demanded.

    The fake officer would have smiled slightly. "Why wouldn¡¯t we be officers, Mr. Simpson? Just wait a moment, we¡¯ll arrive shortly."

    As the car pulled away from the auction house, I knew George would be frantically analyzing the situation.

    Police investigations required evidence; even with my formal report, they would need to establish a case and gather substantial proof before summoning a suspect. He would quickly deduce these weren¡¯t real officers.

    "Who are you? Do you realize impersonating an officer is a federal crime?" "Where¡¯s Anna Shaw? I demand to see her!" I could almost hear George¡¯s furious shouts echoing in my mind.

    The driver would remain calm. "Don¡¯t worry, Mr. Simpson. When we reach our destination, you¡¯ll see Ms. Shaw."

    I imagined George¡¯s shock and outrage ¡ªthe mighty patriarch of the Simpson family outwitted by a "little girl" like me. But this was exactly my n-to keep him away from the auction long enough for us to secure Skke District.

    Twenty minutester, my phone vibrated. Catherine¡¯s voice burst through the speaker, practically bouncing with excitement. "We won!

    We actually won! Skke District ours!"

    A surge of tion rushed through me, but I fought to keep myposure.

    "That¡¯s fantastic! You both did brilliantly. Dinner¡¯s on me tonight."

    Catherineughed. "No way, Samuel already said he¡¯s treating us."

    Tempering my excitement, I asked, "What was the final bid?"

    "Eight billion million!" Catherine made a whistling sound. "God, I was so nervous my palms are raw from digging my nails into them. Thank goodness Samuel was there, constantly outbidding Jack. It was so intense¡ª you really missed something amazing."

    Eight billion million-close to what I had anticipated. As Catherine described the scene, I could visualize the heated bidding war.

    "It¡¯s a good thing George wasn¡¯t there," she continued excitedly. "The whole thing was terrifying¡ªmy adrenaline is through the roof. Jack is still sitting in his chair looking stunned. Samuel says if George had been there-that old fox ¡ªwe might not have secured Skke District at all."

    The knot in my stomach finally loosened, and I couldn¡¯t help but feel a rush of satisfaction. "That¡¯s exactly why I tricked George into leaving at the perfect moment."

    "Tricked?" Catherine gasped. "What exactly happened?"

 Chapter 94: Two Lines

    <h4>Chapter 94: Two Lines</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I smiled to myself. "I¡¯ll exin when I see you. I¡¯m heading back now." After all, I still needed toplete the transaction paperwork.

    With Skke District secured, there was no need to keep George driving in circles. I signaled to Daniel to make a call, instructing them to release George.

    I imagined George being unceremoniously dumped from the car ¡ªperhaps the most undignified moment he¡¯d experienced in decades.

    He would immediately contact his assistant, only to learn that Skke District had been won by our consortium. The mere thought of his apoplectic rage sent a warm satisfaction coursing through me.

    As my car made a U-turn and passed by, I caught sight of George on the sidewalk, practically vibrating with fury. The scene filled me with vindictive pleasure. Though I had no direct evidence, I was certain today¡¯s "ident" was no coincidence, and George Simpson had orchestrated it.

    Daniel looked at me with concern.

    "Ms. Shaw, what if George Simpson goes to the police?"

    I scoffed. "Would he dare? If today¡¯s ident is connected to him, he¡¯ll have to swallow this loss."

    The impersonation of police officers wasn¡¯t ideal, I knew that. But in my mind, this was justice-an eye for an eye. If he tried to harm me, I wouldn¡¯t sit back and take it.

    Back at the auction house, Ipleted the necessary paperwork and made the payment arrangements. Skke District was officially Shaw Corp property. The weight that had been pressing on my chest for months finally lifted, reced by a profound sense of aplishment.

    Daniel briefly exined what had happened to Catherine and Nora, whose expressions shifted from shock to admiration.

    Catherine hugged me tightly. "That was so dangerous! If your assistants hadn¡¯t been in that car, it would be you lying in the hospital right now. I need to train some loyal staff too-these people are literally risking their lives to protect you."

    Her concern warmed my heart and strengthened my resolve to protect everyone around me.

    Even the usually reserved Samuel nodded his approval. "You certainly know how to choose your staff, Ms. Shaw."

    ncing at my watch, I realized there was somewhere more important I needed to be. "Text me the restaurant address. I need to visit the hospital first."

    Catherine waved me off. "Go, go! We¡¯ll start celebrating, and start dreaming about what to do with such a prime piece of real estate. Even it my ideas aren¡¯t useful, at least let me participate in the brainstorming."

    Samuel looked at me questioningly.

    "I¡¯d like to invite a few associates, if you don¡¯t mind, Ms. Shaw?"

    "Not at all," I agreed readily. We had every reason to celebrate this hard-won victory.

    After saying goodbye to Samuel and the others, I headed straight for the hospital. My assistants had put themselves in harm¡¯s way to protect me the least I could do was visit them personally to express my gratitude and concern.

    The antiseptic smell of hospital wrapped around me like a suffocating nket as I approached Rachel¡¯s room.

    My stomach twisted with guilt when I saw her-right arm in a sling, forehead patched with gauze, all injuries that should have been mine.

    "I¡¯m fine, Ms. Shaw, barely feel any pain," Rachel said, forcing a smile despite the obvious difort etched across her face.

    I nced around the sterile room.

    "How¡¯s Sean doing?"

    "Worse than me," she admitted, her voice tight with concern. "The truck hit from his side. Broken leg, but the rest are just cuts and bruises."

    I knocked gently on Sean¡¯s door before entering. His leg was elevated, fresh from surgery. He attempted to sit up when he saw me.

    "Don¡¯t move," I urged, then noticed the elderly man sitting beside the bed-well-dressed, thin but alert, with eyes that spoke of wisdom and resilience.

    "Ms. Shaw, you¡¯re here," Sean said excitedly. "Dad, this is my boss, Anna Shaw."

    Sean¡¯s father stood, eyes glistening with surprise and gratitude. "Ms. Shaw, I¡¯ve wanted to thank you personally. You saved both our lives.

    Thank you-good deeds bring good returns."

    My chest tightened. I¡¯d helped Sean out of basic human decency, not for future payback. His father¡¯s sincere gratitude made me ufortable.

    "Sir, what I did was insignificant. Sean risked his life for me today. I¡¯m the one who should be grateful," I replied honestly.

    After Sean cleverly sent his father for drinks, he immediately asked, "Ms. Shaw, did we secure Skke District?"

    Rachel pped her forehead. "Right! I forgot to ask. Ms. Shaw, were we sessful?"

    I nodded, warmth spreading through my chest. "Yes, Skke District is ours now, thanks to both of you." I paused, choosing my words carefully. "You¡¯ll receive triple sry during your recovery leave, plus an additional twenty thousand each for rehabilitation expenses. Just focus on healing."

    It wasn¡¯t enough for what they¡¯d done, but it was what I could offer.

    "Rachel can stay with me. For you, Sean, I¡¯ll arrange a professional caretaker, allpany-paid," I added.

    Sean¡¯s face showed gratitude, but he quickly refused. "That¡¯s not necessary, Ms. Shaw. My father can take care of me."

    I shook my head firmly. "Your father¡¯s condition isn¡¯t suitable for such strenuous work. Caring for someone with a broken leg requires significant physical strength. Let¡¯s have a professional handle it."

    Rachel sprang into action. "I¡¯ll handle this. The hospital must have rmended care providers."

    She returned promptly with a caretaker¡ªa kind-faced man in his forties, reportedly the hospital¡¯s highest-rated orthopedic specialist.

    After asking several questions, I was satisfied and finalized the arrangement.

    ---

    That evening at Le Ciel restaurant, I joined Daniel, Catherine, Samuel, and others for our celebration. Business associates raised their sses, congratting me on securing the development rights to Skke District.

    "Ms. Shaw, congrattions! Skke District is a gold mine¡ªyou¡¯ve really made a ssh," a colleague remarked.

    I politely declined the toast, giving Daniel a grateful nce as he intercepted drinks on my behalf.

    Despite the celebratory atmosphere, exhaustion tugged at me. The day¡¯s emotional rollercoaster had drained mepletely.

    Mid-celebration, my phone vibrated:

    [Tomorrow night?]

    It was the man from room 3303. I suddenly realized my period should have started by now. What if..? I certainly didn¡¯t wantplications from a moment of passion.

    After brief consideration, I replied:

    [Busy.]

    ---

    Back at Goldenleaf Manor, freshly showered, I followed the pregnancy test instructions precisely.

    Two lines? What did that mean?

    I checked the instructions again and froze. Positive result.

    <fn5148> This text is hosted at find?novel</fn5148>

    Securing Skke District and discovering a pregnancy on the same day-what were the odds? I forced myself to breathe, took a photo of the test, cleaned the bathroom, and climbed into bed with artificial calmness.

    Just that one night¡ªno, several times that night-and I was already pregnant? I was going to be a mother?

    While I¡¯d nned to eventually have a child, to satisfy family expectations before focusing on my career, the reality hit differently. A strange mix of emotions swirled inside mewas I happy? Anxious? Both?

    At my age, motherhood was appropriate timing, but happening so unexpectedly left me feeling untethered. Part of me felt genuine excitement, while another part panicked, unsure if I was ready for motherhood or for my life to change so dramatically.

    I couldn¡¯t even bring myself to touch my stomach, subconsciously reluctant to acknowledge the seed of life growing inside.

    But... this was my child. Mine alone.

    Jack Simpson and Logan Porter won¡¯t be chasing me anymore with this baby, will they?

 Chapter 95: The CEOâ€™s Secret Heir

    <h4>Chapter 95: The CEO¡¯s Secret Heir</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I took a deep breath, one hand unconsciously moving to my still-t stomach. Tomorrow, I¡¯d go to the hospital for official confirmation. For now, this would be my secret¡ªa fragile, precious thing I needed to protect.

    "Miss Shaw?" Lily¡¯s voice interrupted my thoughts. I spun around, heart racing, to find her standing in the bathroom doorway, eyes fixed on the pregnancy test in my hand.

    "Yes?" I kept my tone steady despite the adrenaline surging through my veins.

    Lily¡¯s eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth. For a moment, I thought she might actually lose her bnce.

    "Goodness gracious! Miss Shaw is pregnant? This is wonderful news! I must tell Mrs. Shaw immediately." Her voice rose with each word, excitement overtaking professional restraint.

    I considered stopping her, then reconsidered. This child was a decision I¡¯d made with clear-headed determination. My family would know eventually¡ªperhaps sooner was better.

    "Congrattions, Miss Shaw. You¡¯re going to be a mother!" Lily¡¯s eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Oh, this is so wonderful."

    She reached for my hand, squeezing it gently. "Once a woman has a child, it¡¯s not just about herself anymore. My goodness, how time flies. Our little Annie is all grown up now."

    Her words hit me with unexpected force. _ Not just about myself anymore. The reality of impending motherhood washed over me terrifying and beautiful in equal measure.

    Within the hour, both my mother and grandmother had descended upon Goldenleaf Manor, faces etched with concern and curiosity. We gathered in the living room, sunlight streaming through the bay windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.

    "Annie, the baby¡¯s father..." Grandma Margaret began, her normally unppable demeanor reced with cautious concern.

    "It was unexpected," I replied, avoiding her gaze. "The father isn¡¯t important."

    As I spoke, I thought of him-the man who had unknowingly helped create this life. For him, this would be truly "unexpected," but for me, it was the culmination of careful nning.

    To my surprise, Mother burst into tears, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

    "Why are you crying?" I asked, rmed. "Don¡¯t you want this baby?"

    She wiped her eyes, mascara smudging slightly beneath her fingertips. "No, no, it¡¯s not that. I just... I worry about you, sweetheart. It¡¯s going to be so hard. If your father were still here, you¡¯d still be our little girl, and now you¡¯re having a baby of your own. Annie, I feel like I¡¯ve failed you."

    Her vulnerability melted something inside me. I reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly.

    "I¡¯m going to have this baby sooner orter. If I have it now, you and Grandma can help me look after it, and the baby will keep youpany too. What¡¯s wrong with that? Don¡¯t you want to be a grandmother?"

    Mother hesitated, drying her tears.

    "People will talk, Anna. Being a single mother-especially in our circles..."

    A surge of determination rose within me. "Grandma, Mom, I¡¯ve made my decision. I¡¯m keeping this baby."

    The words felt right-solid and unshakeable. Whatever challengesy ahead, I would face them for this child.

    - - -

    The hospital confirmed what I already knew. As the doctor delivered the news officially, my grandmother closed her eyes briefly, lips moving in a silent prayer. My mother hovered beside me, one hand resting protectively on my shoulder.

    "You should rest more," Mother insisted as we returned home. "Take time off work. Focus on your health and the baby."

    I couldn¡¯t help butugh. "Mom, Grandma, I forgot to tell you-I¡¯ve secured Skke District, and you want me to stay home now? If this project fails, how am I going to support my baby? I¡¯ve taken out huge loans. I could go bankrupt."

    Their expressions of rm made me regret my bluntness, but I needed them to understand. This child deserved a mother who was both present and sessful-I wouldn¡¯t sacrifice either role.

    <fnde76> This text is hosted at find[f]ovel</fnde76>

    Later, I texted Catherine: I have news.

    Her response was immediate: What¡¯s up?

    _I¡¯m pregnant._

    Three dots appeared, disappeared, then reappeared. _I!!!!] [That was fast!

    I¡¯m impressed! Godmother is going shopping for baby gifts right now. 1

    I smiled despite myself. _Nothing cheap, please. You know better._

    _Absolutely not! I¡¯m digging through my jewelry box for something with diamonds. Happy now?

    _That¡¯s more like it._

    The car pulled smoothly into Shaw Corp¡¯s private parking garage. My new driver opened my door with practiced efficiency.

    "Thank you," I said, noting how he scanned the garage before letting me step out. Mother¡¯s paranoia was apparently contagious.

    The usual morning bustle halted momentarily as employees noticed my arrival. Their eyes lingered a beat too long on my outfit-cashmere turtleneck, designer jeans, and ankle boots instead of my usual power suits.

    The whispers followed me into the elevator.

    *So this is what pregnancy does to your fashion sense already?* I mused, oddly satisfied that even in casual wear, Imanded the same respect.

    Perhaps it wasn¡¯t the clothes that made the CEO after all.

    The boardroom fell silent as I entered.

    Eight pairs of eyes tracked my movement to the head of the table, anticipation hanging thick in the air.

    "Skke District," I began without preamble, "represents Shaw Corp¡¯s future. We need someone leading this project who understands its significance." I paused, letting the tension build. "Daniel, the responsibility is yours."

    Daniel¡¯s eyes widened slightly before determination settled in his features.

    "Ms. Shaw, I won¡¯t let you down," he replied, voice steady despite the visible pulse jumping at his throat.

    I nodded, feeling a rush of pride. I¡¯d been grooming him for years, watching him grow from an eager assistant to a capable executive. Now was his moment to prove himself.

    After the meeting dispersed, Daniel followed me to my office, closing the door behind him.

    "Ms. Shaw, there¡¯s been no movement from the Simpson family. George hasn¡¯t filed any police report about yesterday¡¯s... incident."

    Ice crystallized in my veins. My suspicions solidified into certainty. "So the ident really was his doing," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

    Daniel nodded grimly. "Police say the truck used fake tes. With surveince cameras everywhere, they should find the vehicle soon, though tracking down the driver will be more challenging."

    I settled into my chair, fingers steepled beneath my chin. "Thank the officers for their work. I¡¯m not in a rush-let them take their time." My tone was measured, but fury simmered beneath.

    Finding the hired help wouldn¡¯t necessarily lead to George. Men like him always prepared scapegoats.

    "Let Rachel order me lunch, something light and nutritious¡ª" The words died on my lips as I remembered. Rachel was at home, recovering from injuries meant for me.

    Daniel caught my expression and smoothly intervened. "T¡¯ll take care of your lunch, Ms. Shaw."

 Chapter 96: Thought It Was Love

    <h4>Chapter 96: Thought It Was Love</h4>

    Catherine¡¯s POV

    I sprawled across my desk, chin propped on my palm, staring at the delivery tracking app on my phone.

    Twenty-three minutes and counting My stomach growled in protest, but food wasn¡¯t what had me fidgeting in my ergonomic chair all day.

    The pregnancy test photo Anna sent me glowed on my screen, those two pink lines taunting me with their implications. I¡¯d been wrestling with this dilemma since morning: should I tell Uncle Marcus?

    "Fuck it," I muttered, tossing my phone onto a stack of animation storyboards. "He needs to know so he can move on."

    Anna was pregnant. With someone else¡¯s baby. Any possibility of her bing my aunt had just evaporated like morning dew in July. My fingers drummed against the polished surface of my desk as guilt twisted through my chest. I was the one who kept pushing Uncle Marcus toward her, convinced they were perfect for each other.

    _Maybe this is for the best. Uncle Marcus can finally stop pining after her._

    I grabbed my phone and forwarded Anna¡¯s pregnancy test photo to him before I could chicken out. Despite it being the middle of the night in Europe, his response was immediate:

    [Whose kid is it? Is your father against it or is the boy¡¯s family the problem?]

    I stared at the message, my jaw going ck. "Oh my God." A bubble of hystericalughter escaped my throat.

    "He thinks I¡¯m pregnant!"

    My fingers flew across the screen:

    [Not me, it¡¯s Anna who¡¯s pregnant.]

    I bit my lip, trying to imagine Uncle Marcus¡¯s face as he read those words.

    The stoic mask would crack, revealing the raw hurt beneath. My chest tightened with preemptive remorse.

    [Uncle Marcus, I feel terrible. Maybe we should just let this go.]

    [Look, Anna¡¯s having a child now. She clearly doesn¡¯t have feelings for you.]

    I gnawed on my lower lip, desperate to offer somefort:

    [Uncle Marcus, you¡¯re such a catch.

    You could find any woman you want to be your wife, right?]

    [Don¡¯t be upset, Uncle. I¡¯ll help you look for someone new.]

    I held my breath, waiting for his response. Would hesh out? Go cold?

    I braced myself for emotional fallout.

    His reply was a single sentence:

    [Don¡¯t tell her that I know about her pregnancy.]

    I furrowed my brow, reading the message three times. Where was the heartbreak? The anger? The cold dismissal?

    Marcus¡¯s POV

    I stared at my phone screen,pletely frozen. The photo Catherine had just sent-those two clear lines¡ªmade my heart nearly stop. A pregnancy test? My brain refused to process this information until a thought exploded in my mind:

    Anna was pregnant. I was going to be a father.

    A wave of heat spread from my chest throughout my body, my hands trembling uncontrobly. The silence of the European night was broken only by my rapid breathing. I instinctively stood up, pacing across my spacious office, trying to control my emotions. If not for years of practiced restraint, I might have burst intoughter in that moment.

    "Prepare the private jet immediately," I blurted out to Peter Reed, my voice carrying an excitement unfamiliar even to myself. "I need to return to Skyview City right away."

    Peter¡¯s expression morphed from confusion to shock. "Now, Mr. Murphy? You just said there¡¯s an extremely important meeting tonight.

    The entire executive team has been waiting for you all day."

    "The meeting can be postponed," I stated firmly, with only one thought in mind: I needed to be by Anna¡¯s side immediately. "I¡¯m going to be a father!

    That¡¯s more important than any meeting."

    Peter hesitated briefly before nodding and turning to leave. Just then, as the initial euphoria began to fade, rationality gradually took over. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down and consider the implications and possibilities of this news.

    "Wait, Peter." I suddenly called out, shaking my head. "On second thought, I can¡¯t go back. I must pretend I don¡¯t know about this."

    I closed my eyes, imagining Anna¡¯s face when she would tell me this news ¡ªthose beautiful eyes flickering with uncertainty and anticipation. The image made my heart clench. But I had to stay rational. This was about our future, our child. Every step needed to be carefully considered.

    "But Anna is..." Peter¡¯s voice was filled with confusion.

    "I know she needs me," I sighed heavily, painfully rubbing my forehead. "But precisely because of that, I need to ensure everything is properly arranged. This is my first child with Anna, and I can¡¯t let any risks near them."

    Peter¡¯s expression suddenly turned serious. "Sir, not to pour cold water, but I genuinely believe you shouldn¡¯t rush back now. Doyle has recovered, and ording to our intelligence, that madman has already started moving.

    He certainly won¡¯t let you off easily."

    My face darkened. Peter was right; with enemies like Doyle, one could never be too careful. If he learned about Anna¡¯s pregnancy... The mere possibility sent a chill down my spine.

    For Anna and our child¡¯s safety, I couldn¡¯t act recklessly.

    "I¡¯ll stay in Europe a bit longer," my voice was calm and resolute, though my insides were churning. "Contact Ryan White, have him meet with my father. Tell him the details. Anna must receiveprehensive protection, but discreetly-she shouldn¡¯t feel rmed."

    Catherine¡¯s POV

    My phone buzzed with Grandpa William¡¯s name shing on the screen.

    I answered immediately, feeling that familiar flutter of anticipation whenever he called.

    "Catherine,e to Murphy Estate after work today. Immediately." His voice carried that distinctive tone that brooked no argument.

    "Is everything okay, Grandpa?"

    "Juste." The line went dead before I could ask another question.

    The rest of my workday crawled by, my mind spinning with possibilities.

    Had something happened to Uncle Marcus? Was Grandpa ill again? By the time I pulled into Murphy Estate¡¯s circr driveway, my imagination had conjured a dozen worst-case scenarios.

    The moment I stepped into the grand foyer, I froze. The marble entryway had transformed into some bizarre high-end pharmacy. Expensive health supplements and gift baskets formed small mountains against the walls, arranged with the precision that characterized everything in Grandpa¡¯s domain.

    "What the hell is all this?" I muttered, navigating through thebyrinth of packages.

    Grandpa William appeared from his study, leaning slightly on his cane.

    "These were meant for your Uncle Marcus, thinking he might have children soon after marriage. They were for his future wife¡¯s health." His voice carried that particr blend of disappointment and resignation I¡¯de to recognize whenever Uncle Marcus was the topic.

    "But your uncle hasn¡¯t been cooperative. Couldn¡¯t have a wife .

    Now he won¡¯t evene back for the holidays." Grandpa¡¯s eyes drifted across the supplements, decades of business acumen unable to hide the sentimental old man beneath.

    "Take them all," Grandpa said suddenly, waving his hand dismissively. "Have the kitchen staff prepare them for you."

    A lightbulb moment hit me with such force I nearly gasped aloud. These weren¡¯t for me-they were perfect for Anna¡¯s pregnancy! The universe had a twisted sense of humor sometimes.

    - - -

    Two hourster, I pulled up to Goldenleaf Manor with my car packed to the ceiling with supplements. Anna answered the door herself, her expression morphing from surprise to bewilderment as I directed the staff to bring in box after box.

    "What is all this?" She gestured at the mountain of health products now upying her foyer.

    "Just found them in our family storage.

    All high-quality stuff," I lied smoothly, avoiding any mention of Grandpa William or Uncle Marcus. Thest thing Anna needed was to know these were originally intended for her as Marcus¡¯s wife. The irony was too much even for me.

    Anna shook her head, her fingers absently finding their way to her slightly rounded belly¡ªa new habit I¡¯d noticed developing. "How am I supposed to finish all this? Mom and Grandma Margaret just bought a carload today-food, supplies, things for me, things for the baby. I¡¯m overwhelmed. The doctor said I don¡¯t need special supplements, just a normal bnced diet."

    I raised an eyebrow, unable to resist.

    "These aren¡¯t for you anyway. They¡¯re for my godchild." My eyes drifted to her belly, a wave of protective affection washing over me.

    ---

    Two dayster, Grandpa William summoned me again. This time, a broad-shouldered man with a military bearing stood beside him in the study.

    "This young man is a military veteran, honorably discharged after an injury.

    He can drive, he can fight, and he¡¯ll be your driver now," Grandpa exined casually, though the concern in his eyes betrayed his true intentions.

    I immediately thought of Rachel Wilson, still recovering from injuries meant for Anna. This man would be perfect for her, not me.

    "Thank you, Grandpa. He looks very capable." I epted with a gracious smile, already nning the reassignment in my head.

    ---

    That afternoon, I marched into Goldenleaf Manor with the stoic bodyguard trailing behind me.

    "I found him especially for you. Hisbat skills are on par with Rachel¡¯s, and he¡¯ll be responsible for your protection from now on," I announced proudly, nudging the man forward.

    The transformation in Anna¡¯s face was instantaneous-from polite confusion to genuine delight. She rushed forward, wrapping her arms around me in a tight embrace before nting a firm kiss on my cheek.

    "You are the best godmother ever!

    Thanks, darling!" The warmth in her voice made my chest tighten with affection.

    I pretended embarrassment, rolling my eyes dramatically. "Why so formal with me? That investor you introduced me to, Jasmine Butler, has already helped me make a fortune. I should be thanking you."

    <fnd566> For original chapters go to fin?novel</fnd566>

    Anna released me, her eyes warm and sincere. "That¡¯s what best friends are for."

    Anna¡¯s POV

    The ultrasound image in my hand showed a tiny ck circle-the pregnancy sac¡ªnestled in the gray blur of my uterus. My finger traced the outline, a strange warmth spreading through my chest.

    "Everything looks perfect, Ms. Shaw," the doctor said, her smile professionally reassuring. "You have a healthy intrauterine pregnancy developing normally."

    I nodded, suddenly hit by a wave of dread as my mind wandered to the car ident. If I had been in that vehicle instead of Sean and Rachel...

    "If it hadn¡¯t been for you two switching ces with me, I can¡¯t imagine the consequences," I murmured, passing the ultrasound image to Rachel.

    Rachel¡¯s face flickered with momentary concern before she smiled. "It¡¯s because you¡¯re always one step ahead, boss. You sensed someone might try something underhanded. This little one is already bringing you good fortune."

    I handed the prenatal documents to yton, who tucked them carefully into his leather portfolio. Catherine¡¯s rmendation had been spot-on¡ª he moved with military precision, eyes constantly scanning our surroundings.

    Since Rachel¡¯s recovery, they made a formidable security team.

    "I wonder how Sean is recovering," I said, guilt gnawing at my insides despite the positive checkup. "Choose some supplements from that mountain Catherine brought and have them delivered to him. I could never consume all those myself."

    "I had arge serving myselfst night," Rachel replied cheerfully. "Sean and I are really benefiting from this!"

    In the car, Rachel studied me with that look I¡¯de to recognize-a mixture of concern and determination. "Ms. Shaw, Sapphire Sky Hotel isn¡¯t far from here. Why not stop and rest for a while? It¡¯s not quite lunchtime yet."

    "No need, I¡¯m not tired. Let¡¯s head straight back to the office," I replied, watching raindrops race down the window. Though pregnancy often left me feeling like I¡¯d run a marathon by noon, work was where I found peace.

    Besides, there was too much at stake with Skke District to allow myself unnecessary breaks.

    At a red light, I called home to report my checkup results. Grandmother Margaret¡¯s voice immediately flooded with affection: "Work isn¡¯t nearly as important as you and the baby. If you lose money, so be it. I¡¯d use myst savings to care for you and my great-grandchild."

    My throat tightened unexpectedly.

    Mom jumped in, her concern palpable even through the phone: "Annie, you mustn¡¯t overexert yourself. You need proper rest¡ªyou can¡¯t keep pushing yourself like before."

    As we pulled into Shaw Corp¡¯s parking garage, I made a silent promise: *I¡¯ll have this baby AND maintain my career. I can manage both withoutpromise.*

    Mason Nelson was waiting in my office with quarterly reports from Luminary Trade Ventures. The numbers were better than I¡¯d expected-small hope against the mountain of debt I¡¯d taken on for Skke District.

    "Beyond the financials," Mason continued enthusiastically after his presentation, "I¡¯m nning tounch a livestream program for Luminary Trade. We can promote tea culture, not just sell products."

    I nodded, genuinely impressed.

    "Excellent idea. Everyone else is capitalizing on this trend-why shouldn¡¯t we?" The excitement in his

    eyes mirrored my own entrepreneurial spirit. "But one important point: our content must maintain high quality.

    We absolutely will not produce vulgar content just for views."

    Mason¡¯s agreement was immediate.

    "Exactly my thinking. That¡¯s why I wanted to ask if you might know someone with exceptional poise who understands tea and ideally possesses artistic talents. I want to develop a unique influencer who embodies culture and refinement."

    Nora Price¡¯s image shed in my mind instantly-elegant, ssically trained in piano, and with the perfect understated presence for what Mason described.

    That evening, I invited Nora to dinner at Le Ciel, carefully watching her reaction as I outlined Mason¡¯s concept.

    "Me?" Nora¡¯s eyes widened, her fork freezing midway to her mouth. "Anna, you can¡¯t be serious. I couldn¡¯t possibly do that."

    I took a sip of water from my thermos, secretly pleased my intuition had been correct-Nora hadn¡¯t immediately dismissed the idea.

    "How can you know it won¡¯t work without trying?" I countered calmly.

    "Let¡¯s set aside whether you can do it for now-the question is whether you want to."

 Chapter 97: Threads of Fate

    <h4>Chapter 97: Threads of Fate</h4>

    Nora¡¯s POV

    The evening light filtered through Le Ciel¡¯s crystal chandeliers, casting warm shadows across our table. I watched Anna carefully as her proposal hung in the air between us, my fork suspended midway to my mouth.

    "Me?" I could hear the disbelief in my own voice. "Anna, you can¡¯t be serious.

    I couldn¡¯t possibly do that."

    The idea of bing the face of Luminary Trade¡¯s livestream program sent conflicting waves of excitement and terror crashing through me. A tea culture influencer? The old Nora Price would have scoffed at such a proposition. Now, I wasn¡¯t sure what to think.

    Anna took a measured sip from her thermos, her eyes never leaving mine.

    "How can you know it won¡¯t work without trying? Let¡¯s set aside whether you can do it for now-the question is whether you want to."

    Her words cut through my hesitation with surgical precision. Did I want this? The opportunity to reim some semnce of dignity and purpose after everything I¡¯d lost?

    "I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m cut out for being an... inte personality," I admitted, carefully setting down my fork.

    "Wouldn¡¯t they just see me as another fallen socialite desperate for attention?"

    My chest tightened at the thought of bing fodder for Skyview City¡¯s gossip mill. Again.

    "I mean, wouldn¡¯t it bother you?" I asked, trying to mask my vulnerability.

    "Being associated with someone like me in your business?"

    Anna¡¯s expression remained unchanged, calm and thoughtful.

    <fn53f2> The source of th?s content is find?novel</fn53f2>

    "I wouldn¡¯t have offered if it bothered me," she replied simply.

    I toyed with the rim of my water ss, avoiding her gaze. "I guess I¡¯m just trying to understand why me, of all people."

    "Because you understand elegance naturally," Anna said. "Your ssical piano training, your eye for art-you embody exactly what Mason envisions for this project."

    I let out a small, bitterugh. "I don¡¯t mina. Inte celebrities are doing better than me these days-they¡¯re at least making money on their own terms. My situation... well, you know what happened. I lost the right to be picky a long time ago."

    The words left a sour taste in my mouth. Once upon a time, I was Miss Price, the daughter of one of Skyview City¡¯s oldest families. Now I was just Nora, clutching at whatever opportunities came my way.

    Anna¡¯s eyes softened. "You don¡¯t need to care about what others think. You walk your own path. Only you know if it¡¯s right or wrong. If you think it¡¯s worthwhile, then it is."

    "If I think it¡¯s worthwhile, then it is?" I repeated softly, feeling something unlock deep inside my chest. The words acted like a key to a door I¡¯d kept firmly shut since my fall from grace.

    I looked up, suddenly seeing through the fog that had clouded my judgment for so long. "You¡¯re right. No one else gets to judge what I do with my life."

    The waiter arrived with our desserts, giving me a moment to collect my thoughts.

    "Alright," I said finally, straightening my shoulders. "I¡¯ll do it."

    As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt a weight lift from my chest. Anna¡¯s smile was warm and genuine, and it gave me the courage to continue.

    "Thank you for this chance," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "I should tell you... I¡¯ve had offers before. Some magazines wanted me to pose for them after I lost everything. The kind of photos that..." I swallowed hard.

    "Well, I refused. But besides you, everyone in Skyview City looks at me like I¡¯m damaged goods now."

    My voice trembled slightly. "I¡¯ve been afraid to even look for respectable work. I can put on a brave face at those high-society events, but outside of that? I can barely stand walking in the sunlight of Skke District."

    The admission made my throat burn.

    Months of suppressed humiliation threatened to spill from my eyes.

    Anna reached across the table, her gaze steady and encouraging. "Don¡¯t be afraid. You have so many talents¡ª people who can¡¯t see that are the ones missing out." Her tone became more serious. "Nora, if youmit to this and build up the business, I¡¯ll give you shares in Luminary Trade."

    My heart lurched painfully in my chest. The offer wasn¡¯t just employment¡ªit was a path back to independence, to respect.

    Anna¡¯s POV

    The morning light streamed through Shaw Corp¡¯s floor-to-ceiling windows, turning the polished conference table into a sheet of liquid gold. I was midway through signing the final paperwork on Nora¡¯s contract when Samuel sauntered in, his expression a fascinating blend of amusement and irritation.

    "Ms. Shaw, your talent-poaching skills are impressive. Even my people aren¡¯t safe from you," he said, dropping into the chair across from me.

    I couldn¡¯t help the smile that tugged at my lips. Mason¡¯s tea culture project with Nora was developing beautifully, and Samuel¡¯s mock outrage only sweetened my satisfaction.

    "Business is business, Mr. Griffin. With the right strategy, any talent can be acquired." I slid the signed contract into its folder, enjoying this small victory.

    Samuel quirked an eyebrow. "So Nora¡¯s signed a long-term contract with you now?"

    I kept my expression professionally neutral despite my internal pride at securing Nora for Mason¡¯s project. It was a perfect match of elegance and opportunity.

    Samuel surprised me by shrugging nonchntly. "Well, it¡¯s probably for the best. She could use a legitimate career."

    His unexpected graciousness caught me off-guard. I couldn¡¯t resist teasing him a little. "If Mr. Griffin is feeling

    lonely, I hear Mia from the Olympus Club has been asking about you."

    His handsome face darkened instantly, though a mischievous smile yed at his lips. "Speaking of missing people, Anna, what¡¯s happening with Uncle Marcus these days? "

    My breath caught. The casual mention of Marcus sent an unwee pang through my chest. He¡¯d been gone for so long without a word, and the reminder stung more than I cared to admit.

    Fortunately, I was saved by Daniel announcing the start of our Skke District nning meeting.

    - - -

    An hourter, I stood before a massive touchscreen disying our development ns. The meeting room hummed with the excited energy of possibility as I wrapped up my presentation.

    "As you can see, this project will transform not just Skke District, but potentially the entire economdscape of Skyview City," I concluded, turning to face my attentive audience.

    Samuel leaned back in his chair, fixing me with a prating gaze. "Ms. Shaw, what makes you so confident that Nestling Crest Bay will develop as rapidly as your projections suggest?

    Nobody even knows who¡¯s behind that development. Even with all the construction happening, turning it into a thrivingmercial district would take years, wouldn¡¯t it?" His eyes narrowed slightly. "Or do you have insider information I¡¯m not privy to?"

    My pulse quickened. The mysterious source who¡¯d given me that crucial information shed through my mind, but I maintained myposure.

    "Yes, I have it on excellent authority that Nestling Crest Bay will be fully operational within two to three years," I replied steadily.

    Samuel considered this for a moment, then nodded. "In that case, I¡¯m fully on board. Once Nestling Crest Bay develops, it will create a powerful synergy with Skke District. I¡¯ve studied those buildings going up¡ª they¡¯re all high-end office spaces andmercialplexes." His voice took on a thoughtful quality. "Whoever¡¯s behind this isn¡¯t trying to swallow Skyview City. It looks more like they¡¯re relocating an entire business empire here, aiming to create one of thergest financial centers on the country."

    Catherine, who had been silent throughout most of the technical discussion, suddenly perked up. "You think some major international corporation is moving to Skyview City?"

    Samuel shook his head. "Can¡¯t say for sure, but the level of secrecy suggests government involvement. If my theory is correct, this would be transformative for Skyview City-perhaps the entire state." His eyes gleamed with entrepreneurial excitement. "And it would be incredible for our Skke District project. Commercial avenues, medical facilities, schools, employment opportunities, luxury housing-any investment we make now will yield substantial returns."

    ---

    After the meeting, I stood alone in my office. Samuel¡¯s analysis had unleashed a flood of questions I¡¯d been avoiding.

    The insider information, the massive business empire being relocated ¡ªit all pointed to one person.

    _It can¡¯t be Marcus._ I tried to convince myself, even as my subconscious screamed otherwise.

    Marcus Murphy hadn¡¯t returned to Skyview City in months.

 Chapter 98: Her Legacy, Not His

    <h4>Chapter 98: Her Legacy, Not His</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Deep down, I was certain Marcus Murphy wouldn¡¯t return. My thoughts drifted back to Christmas when I¡¯d traveled all the way to Europe to find him, only to be met with silence and rejection. That memory still stung, a wound I refused to acknowledge but couldn¡¯t quite ignore.

    The mysterious development at Nestling Crest Bay was likely just another business decision, I told myself. Whatever connection Marcus Murphy had to it was purely professional¡ªit had nothing to do with any personal feelings toward me.

    I needed to focus on what mattered:

    Skke District and my growing child.

    The sleek presentation disyed on the wall-to-wall screen showed architectural renderings of our ns¡ª luxury retail, upscale residential spaces, and a central park that would maintain the historic charm while bringing new life to the area.

    "As you can see," I concluded, gesturing to the final slide, "Skke District has the potential to be the crown jewel of Skyview City¡¯s revitalization. With the synergy from the mysterious Nestling Crest Bay development nearby, we¡¯re positioned for unprecedented growth."

    As the team filed out, Samuel lingered behind, his expression unreadable as he approached me at the head of the table.

    "It¡¯s Marcus Murphy, isn¡¯t it?" he asked without preamble, his eyes searching mine with ufortable intensity.

    I feigned confusion, my heart suddenly beating faster. "Uncle Marcus? What about him?" Inside, I tensed-how had he seen through me so easily?

    Samuel made a dismissive sound.

    <fn1d28> Updates are released by F¦Énd£Îovel</fn1d28>

    "We¡¯re in the same boat now, Ms. Shaw. Why so guarded with me?"

    I took a deep breath, mentally calcting my response. Thest thing I wanted was to discuss Marcus Murphy. Thoseplicated feelings had been carefully locked away, and I had no desire to resurrect them.

    "I¡¯m not being guarded," I replied evenly. "There¡¯s simply nothing to discuss. What we need to focus on is Skke District and maximizing our investment. Samuel, I¡¯m not interested in anything else right now except making money."

    Samuel seemed to sense my resistance and mercifully changed the subject.

    "The project needs substantial capital to move forward. Have you mortgaged the properties yet?"

    "Daniel¡¯s been working on that," I said, feeling a wave of relief at returning to business matters. "Skke District is divided into several parcels-we¡¯re using two for coteral initially."

    Later in my office, I stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, lost in thought about Skke District¡¯s potential. This wasn¡¯t just another development project¡ªit was my legacy, a promise to my father¡¯s memory and to my unborn child.

    That evening, Catherine, Samuel and I were enjoying dinner in a private room at hotel when my phone rang. Seeing my mother¡¯s name on the screen, I excused myself and stepped into the hallway.

    "Annie, don¡¯t forget your prenatal vitamins," Elizabeth¡¯s concerned voice came through the speaker. "And please try to be home earlier tonight¡ª Grandma Margaret wants to discuss nursery colors."

    I smiled despite myself. Since learning of my pregnancy, my mother and grandmother had transformed into expectant guardians, their concern both touching and asionally overwhelming.

    "Mom, I¡¯ll be home soon," I promised.

    "The baby and I are both fine. Tell Grandma¡ª"

    As I turned to re-enter the private dining room, I froze. Jack Simpson stood in the hallway, his expression a mixture of shock and disbelief.

    "You¡¯re pregnant?" Jack¡¯s voice reflected his astonishment, eyes fixed on my still-t stomach where my hand had unconsciouslye to rest.

    A wave of unease washed over me. I hadn¡¯t nned on this news reaching the Simpson family so soon, especially not through this idental encounter.

    "Yes," I answered simply, unwilling to borate.

    "Who¡¯s the father?" he pressed, a strange emotion darkening his features.

    "That¡¯s none of your business," I replied coldly, turning to leave. Anger and frustration churned inside me our rtionship was over, what right did he have to question me this way?

    "Anna!" His voice rose sharply as he moved to intercept me.

    As he reached out to grab my arm, yton materialized beside me, smoothly inserting himself between us.

    The former military man¡¯s presence wasmanding even in his perfectly tailored suit.

    Jack stopped short, then gave a bitterugh. "This is the bodyguard your child¡¯s father hired for you? "

    Thement ignited my fury. My voice shook slightly as I responded, "What is wrong with you? Can¡¯t you just pretend I don¡¯t exist?"

    yton spoke calmly, "Ms. Shaw, please go ahead. I¡¯ll handle this."

    I gave Jack onest cold look, exhaustion recing anger. Whatever feelings had once existed between us had long since evaporated. Now he was just a stranger, someone I had no desire to spend another moment acknowledging. Without hesitation, I turned and walked back into the private dining room, not a single nce backward.

    Jack¡¯s POV

    I stood frozen outside the private dining room, my hand still on the doorknob. Through the small crack in the door, I could see Samuel Griffin and Catherine Murphyughing over wine sses, their animated conversation floating out in disconnected fragments.

    But I couldn¡¯t move. Couldn¡¯t breathe.

    The words I¡¯d just overheard kept ricocheting inside my skull like stray bullets.

    *Anna is pregnant. Anna is pregnant.

    Anna is...*

    My stomach lurched violently, acid climbing up my throat. I leaned against the doorframe, suddenly grateful for its solid support as the hallway seemed to tilt beneath my feet.

    "Who¡¯s the father?" The question had escaped my lips before I could stop it, desperation making my voice crack.

    When Anna¡¯s eyes shed with cold fury, something inside me crumbled.

    *It should have been mine. Our child.

    Our family.*

    I watched her bodyguard - that mountain of a man - step between us with practiced efficiency. His presence only twisted the knife deeper. Someone else was protecting her now. Someone else had imed what I foolishly thought would always be avable to me.

    "This is the bodyguard your child¡¯s father hired for you?" The bitter words had spilled out before I could stop them, revealing my pathetic suspicions.

    *Marcus Murphy? Has he returned without anyone knowing?*

    No. That couldn¡¯t be right. Uncle Marcus hadn¡¯t been back to Skyview City in months. Everyone knew that.

    But then who? Someone at Shaw Corp? My chest constricted painfully at the possibilities.

    For years, I¡¯d lived in afortable delusion. Divorce was just a temporary setback. A rough patch. Just another negotiation in our rtionship that would eventually resolve itself when the timing was right. When I was ready.

    A hollowugh escaped me, drawing curious nces from passing hotel staff. How incredibly, stupidly arrogant I¡¯d been. While I¡¯d been waiting for the "right moment" to graciously wee her back, Anna had rebuilt her entire life without me.

 Chapter 99: The Shaw Heiress

    <h4>Chapter 99: The Shaw Heiress</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    The evening at Le Ciel had been surprisingly pleasant, with Samuel and Catherine proving to be excellent dinnerpanions. As we stepped into the Le Ciel lobby, heading toward the exit, my rxed mood evaporated instantly. The Simpson family stood near the reception desk-Mary, George, Lucy, and Jack. My stomach tightened, a reflexive response I couldn¡¯t quite control.

    Catherine, never one to shy away from confrontation, immediately took charge.

    "Aunt Mary, Uncle George! Weren¡¯t you having dinner with my parents?

    Where are they?" Her voice carried that perfect blend of innocence and challenge that only Catherine could master.

    Mary¡¯s eyes swept over our little group, lingering ufortably on me before fixing Catherine with a disapproving stare. "Running around town thiste, always surrounded by men. Catherine, I¡¯m not criticizing you, but as a Murphy daughter, you should be more mindful of your reputation."

    I remained silent, jaw clenched. Thement was clearly aimed at me, but Mary didn¡¯t have the courage to address me directly.

    To my surprise, Catherine fired back without hesitation. "You¡¯re absolutely right, Aunt Mary. Mom always says girls should be more like Anna.

    Without our own abilities, we¡¯d have to grovel to our inws and still lose our position."

    _Damn, Catherine_. A warmth spread through my chest at her loyalty, even as I worried about escting tensions with the Simpsons. I noticed Lucy biting her lip, eyes downcast.

    Throughout the exchange, Jack¡¯s gaze never left me, his eyes burning with that unsettling intensity that made my skin crawl. I kept my expression carefully neutral, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing any reaction.

    Samuel smoothly intervened, dropping a casual hand on Jack¡¯s shoulder.

    "Jack, it¡¯s still early. Care for another drink?"

    Jack shrugged off the contact. "Another time, Samuel. I¡¯ll owe you one."

    After the Simpsons finally departed, I released a breath I hadn¡¯t realized I was holding. "I should have known you had motives for being so proactive tonight," I teased Catherine. "Clever girl. Besides, with this crowd around, your uncle wouldn¡¯t dare make a scene."

    ---

    Walking into Shaw Estate, I was surprised to find my mother still awake, waiting for me in the softly lit kitchen.

    "I really didn¡¯t drink anything," I assured her, sliding onto a barstool.

    "I¡¯ve been sober since I started trying to conceive, and honestly, I never liked the taste anyway." I gratefully epted the warm herbal tea she offered. "Is Grandma Margaret already asleep?"

    "Yes, she turned in early." Elizabeth¡¯s eyes traced my face with that particr brand of maternal scrutiny.

    "Annie, are you certain you¡¯re not pushing yourself too hard? In your condition..."

    "Mom, I¡¯m fine," I smiled, touched by her concern. "With Rachel and yton watching over me, there¡¯s nothing to worry about."

    yton shifted ufortably in his position by the door, clearly not used to being included in family conversations. Rachel, on the other hand, seamlessly joined in.

    "Mrs. Shaw, this meal is absolutely delicious. Thank you for including us."

    My heart swelled as I watched my mother fuss over Rachel¡¯s te, ensuring she had enough of the specially prepared nutrient-rich food.

    <fncf09> Content originallyes from </fncf09>

    In these quiet moments, away from boardrooms and business rivals, I could simply be a daughter again.

    - - -

    The next afternoon, I stared at my reflection in bewilderment. The sweet blue velvet dress my mother had selected made me look like I¡¯d stepped out of a fairy tale.

    "Mom, this makes me look about eighteen," I protested half-heartedly.

    "Your daughter¡¯s transformed into a princess."

    Elizabeth¡¯s fingers were gentle as she fastened pearl earrings to my lobes.

    "You¡¯ll always be my little girl, Annie.

    No matter how many empires you build, in my eyes, you¡¯re still that precious child who needs my protection."

    As I studied my transformed appearance, a thought bubbled up unexpectedly. "If my baby is a girl, will you dress her up like this too?"

    Mother¡¯s eyes glistened with sudden moisture. "Of course. I¡¯ll have the most beautiful outfits ready for my granddaughter, just as I did for you."

    The cashmere cardigan she draped around my shoulders was both practical and perfect for the outfit. Her thoughtfulness never failed to amaze me.

    ---

    En route to the charity g, I leaned into my mother¡¯s shoulder like I used to as a child. "Today I¡¯m just Mommy¡¯s good girl, following your leadpletely."

    At the event, I was immediately surrounded by Skyview City¡¯s elite, many of whom had previously snubbed me following my divorce but were now eager to curry favor after Skke District¡¯s acquisition.

    "Anna, you must meet Jonathan¡¯s son," Harper Watson insisted. "He¡¯s just returned from Europe, brilliant young man with excellent prospects."

    I smiled politely. "Thank you for thinking of me, but I already have someone I care for."

    "When will we meet this lucky gentleman?" Daisy Sanders asked, curiosity dripping from every word.

    My mother smoothly intervened. "In a few months, everyone will understand." Her meaningful tone effectively ended the conversation, subtly hinting at my pregnancy without explicitly revealing it.

    I adjusted my posture on the velvet settee, forcing a polite smile as Doris Porter approached.

    "Anna, have you been busytely?"

    Her voice carried the unmistakable weight of regret.

    "Somewhat," I replied simply, the word tasting bitter on my tongue.

    The air between us thickened with unspoken history. Ever since Logan had orchestrated that "ident," our families¡¯ rtionship had withered into this awkward dance of forced pleasantries. Doris¡¯s eyes reflected genuine sadness, but some betrayals cut too deep for forgiveness.

    My salvation arrived in the form of a collective gasp rippling through the crowd. William Murphy had made an unexpected appearance. His imposing figuremanded attention despite his advanced age, silencing conversations throughout the room.

    "Don¡¯t fuss over me," he waved off people¡¯s effusive greeting. "I just came to see my friend. It¡¯s been too long since I¡¯ve visited an old friend."

    Then his eyes found me across the room. "Anna,e here. Stay by my side."

    My heart swelled with unexpected warmth as I immediately moved to join him. On the surface, I was simply being respectful to an elder, but we both knew what his public request signified.

    I took my ce beside him, helping with small courtesies-offering tea, adjusting his cushion¡ªwhile acutely aware of how our tableau appeared to the gathered elite. William Murphy had just elevated my social standing with a simple gesture.

    "William Murphy certainly favors Anna Shaw. Strange, considering they¡¯re not rted," a woman¡¯s voice carried from nearby.

    "Haven¡¯t you heard? There¡¯s something between Marcus Murphy and Anna.

    Catherine¡¯s already investing with her in Skke District. I bet Anna will join the Murphy family soon enough."

    "No wonder Mary Simpson looks so sour. Imagine your former daughter-inw bing your ex-husband¡¯s aunt. Who could ept that?"

    I maintained myposed smile despite the vicious whispers prickling my skin. In Skyview City¡¯s social battlefield, showing reaction was admitting defeat.

    Unexpectedly, Catherine materialized beside the gossiping women, sliding gracefully into their circle with the precision of a shark scenting blood.

    "What fascinating conversation are we having,dies?" Her smile was dazzling and deadly. "Oh, Mrs. Miller, my mother wanted me to tell you she can¡¯t help with your inquiry about my uncle¡¯s marriage prospects. It¡¯s not her decision to make." She paused deliberately. "And Mrs. Parker, did you receive the health supplements my grandfather returned? About my uncle¡¯s marriage even my grandfather can¡¯t influence his choice."

    The women¡¯s faces flushed crimson as Catherine delivered her final blow:

    "Your daughters might want to look elsewhere."

    I bit back a smile as they hastily excused themselves. Catherine had always defended me with a directness I sometimes envied.

    Throughout the evening, I noticed William systematically introducing me to Skyview City¡¯s most influential figures construction magnates, renowned architects, interior design visionaries. Each handshake came with a subtle nod from William, a silent endorsement that carried

    immeasurable weight.

    The realization hit me with unexpected force he wasn¡¯t just making casual introductions. He was deliberately connecting me with everyone essential to Skke District¡¯s sess. And he was doing this for me, not Catherine.

    My throat tightened with emotion. I gently ced my hand on his arm, my voice soft but clear enough for those nearby.

    "I¡¯m still young and have much to learn. I¡¯ll be counting on everyone¡¯s guidance in the future."

 Chapter 100: Double Blessing

    <h4>Chapter 100: Double Blessing</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    William Murphy had insisted I sit beside him at the head table rather than join my mother at her assigned seating. This special treatment wasn¡¯t lost on anyone present.

    "This child needs proper nutrition. She must eat more," William announced, gesturing to a server. "Don¡¯t make her feel embarrassed-our Anna is quite modest." His affectionate tone made my cheeks burn as a server immediately appeared with another serving of roasted vegetables.

    I sipped water to hide my difort.

    Being singled out in a room full of Skyview City¡¯s elite wasn¡¯t exactly my idea of a rxing evening.

    "Indeed, no wonder you value her so highly. Such a capable young woman," remarked a silver-haired business magnate seated across from us, his eyes crinkling with appreciation.

    Another chimed in, "Young people must keep up their strength. Eat well, my dear."

    William beamed proudly, as if I were his own granddaughter. When the seafood course arrived, his smile widened even further. "The lobster and king crab arrived fresh this morning.

    Make sure Anna¡¯s is properly shelled."

    Before I could even respond, William¡¯s protective instincts kicked in. "Anna should only taste a small portion."

    Someone at the tableughed good-naturedly. "William, Catherine will be jealous."

    I lowered my gaze, my emotions aplex tangle of gratitude and unease. William¡¯s genuine concern touched me deeply, yet being the center of such attention made me feel oddly exposed. Throughout the evening, I couldn¡¯t help but notice how he strategically blocked any attempt by Mary Simpson, Jack, or even Logan to approach me. He had transformed into my personal bodyguard, all while introducing me to key industry contacts with casual precision.

    ---

    "Annie, does William know something?" Mom asked pointedly as our car pulled away from Murphy Estate, heading back to Shaw Estate.

    Iughed, not expecting this line of questioning. "Mom, what are you implying? This baby isn¡¯t Marcus¡¯s.

    Even if William knows I¡¯m pregnant, why would he act this way?"

    "You think I¡¯m overthinking this?" She fixed me with that maternal stare that seemed capable of extracting secrets from stone.

    I rolled my eyes. "He was mainly introducing me to potential business partners. Severalpanies might coborate with us soon."

    Her skeptical expression remained, and I suddenly realized she¡¯d been harboring this assumption all along¡ª that Marcus Murphy was my child¡¯s father.

    <fnd8a8> Get full chapters from FindN0vel</fnd8a8>

    "Stop looking at me like that. It really isn¡¯t Uncle Marcus¡¯s." I sighed, choosing my words carefully. "I just... found someone to help with this. He doesn¡¯t even know."

    "Really?" Her voice carried unmistakable doubt.

    "Absolutely," I answered firmly, though something twisted ufortably in my chest.

    -- -

    Two dayster, Mom apanied me to what I thought was just a routine prenatal check-up. The exam room wasfortably warm, with soft lighting that somehow made the medical equipment seem less intimidating.

    "The babies are doing wonderfully, developing normally," the female doctor said, smiling as she moved the ultrasound wand across my still-t abdomen. "With Anna¡¯s beauty, these babies will certainly be adorable."

    I froze, my heartbeat suddenly thundering in my ears.

    "Babies.plural?"

    Mom immediately stood up, her voice rising with excitement. "More than one?"

    The doctor nodded, confirming with a warm smile. "Yes, congrattions!

    You¡¯re having twins. Didn¡¯t your previous scan show two gestational sacs?"

    "It only showed one," Mom quickly replied. "Another doctor performed the exam two weeks ago, and she never mentioned twins."

    My mind was still caught on that single word-*twins*

    Disbelief rapidly transformed into overwhelming joy.

    *Two babies in one pregnancy!* I¡¯d only nned to go through pregnancy once in my life, and now I was getting two children. This felt like hitting the jackpot.

    "Doctor, is the smaller twin developing normally? Should I take additional supplements? With twins, does my nutritional intake need to double?" I asked eagerly, already mentally rearranging nursery ns to amodate two cribs instead of one.

    - - -

    "Mom, isn¡¯t this wonderful?" I leaned against her shoulder in the car, unable to contain my happiness. "You always regretted not giving me siblings. Now I¡¯m giving you two grandchildren at once. Shaw Estate will finally be filled withughter."

    Mom¡¯s brow furrowed with concern.

    "Pregnancy is difficult enough with one baby, especially with multiples. I worry about your health.I¡¯ll help you find a dietitian who specializes in pregnant women."

    I dismissed her concern with a wave.

    "I¡¯m young and healthy. Besides, I have so many people looking after me now. And these babies are being perfect angels-not giving me any trouble at all."

    ---

    At Shaw Estate, Grandma Margaret couldn¡¯t contain her excitement upon hearing the news. She immediately began reciting prayers, then hurried off to the family prayer room without even touching her lunch. I settled into the living room sofa, one hand gently caressing my stomach as I imagined the two tiny lives growing inside me.

    Marcus¡¯s POV

    When that ultrasound photonded in my hands, something inside me shattered. My heart seized in my chest, a vise grip of emotion I hadn¡¯t experienced since I was a child. 1 stared at those two unmistakable shapes-tiny, blurry, yet undeniably real-my fingers trembling against the glossy paper.

    I passed the photo to Peter, struggling to keep my voice steady. "I¡¯m not seeing things, am I? Twins?"

    The question hung in the air, fragile as blown ss. A part of me feared this happiness might dissolve if acknowledged too boldly.

    "Yes, sir," Peter confirmed, his normally impassive face softening slightly. "Ms. Shaw is carrying twins.

    The report suggests possibly a boy and a girl. Congrattions, Mr. Murphy."

    My lips curved upward involuntarily.

    Augh escaped me genuine, unguarded¡ªa sound foreign even to my own ears.

    "Peter, you probably don¡¯t know this, but the Murphy family carries twin genes," I said, hearing the unmistakable pride in my own voice.

    The significance of this moment washed over me in waves. My children. *Our* children. Anna carrying not one but two lives we had created together.

    Peter cleared his throat, his expression regretful. "Sir, I understand your excitement and concern for Ms. Shaw, but I must remind you-you can¡¯t return to Skyview City yet. "

    My smile froze, joy evaporating like morning mist. The brutal reality of my situation crashed back, leaving a hollow ache in its wake. How desperately I wanted to be at Anna¡¯s side, to ce my hand on her belly and feel our children growing. Instead, I remained trapped across an ocean, unable to im even my rightful ce as their father.

    The silence in my office felt suffocating.

    Outside, rain began to patter against the windows, echoing the storm of emotions inside me. After what felt like hours, I finally spoke, my voice barely audible.

    "I¡¯ll call my father."

 Chapter 101: Two Heartbeats

    <h4>Chapter 101: Two Heartbeats</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    The woman standing beside Catherine in our living room looked like she¡¯d stepped out of a medical journal¡ª crisp linen shirt tucked into tailored pants, not a single blonde hair out of ce in her tight bun. Her posture screamed professional discipline.

    "Elizabeth, I heard you were looking for a nutritionist. I¡¯ve brought someone for you to meet," Catherine announced proudly. "This is Betty."

    My mother and I exchanged nces as Catherine continued with Betty¡¯s impressive resume. When she mentioned that Betty had just returned from Europe where she¡¯d been caring for actual royalty, my eyebrows shot up involuntarily.

    "You cared for royal family members?"

    I couldn¡¯t hide my surprise.

    Betty nodded modestly. "Yes, though I¡¯m bound by confidentiality agreements regarding specifics."

    Mom¡¯s face lit up like Christmas morning. "This is wonderful! "

    I watched Mom circle Betty, peppering her with questions about prenatal nutrition and childhood development.

    Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself rxing. If she could handle royalty, my twin pregnancy should be manageable.

    "We¡¯d be delighted to have you join us," I said finally, extending my hand.

    The decision felt right, especially seeing Mom¡¯s obvious approval.

    After finalizing arrangements, Catherine offered to walk me back to my room, her arm linked supportively with mine as we stepped into the elevator.

    Her eyes kept drifting to my still-t stomach. "Twins! That position must have been magical. What was it?"

    I shot her a withering re.

    "Seriously?"

    Catherine¡¯s eyes widened with sudden horror. "Wait¡ªthey can¡¯t understand yet, right?" She leaned closer to my belly, whispering, "Sorry, babies."

    I rolled my eyes. "Can we discuss the nutritionist? She just happened to return from Europe right when we needed one? That¡¯s quite convenient."

    The elevator doors opened, and we continued down the hallway toward my bedroom.

    Catherine¡¯s face glowed with self-satisfaction. "Pure coincidence! Betty came back to visit her mother¡¯s grave.

    I heard someone mention her credentials and practically ambushed her before she could make other ns."

    "And she agreed to put her life on hold for a year just like that?" I pressed, suspicious.

    "Money talks," Catherine replied with a shameless grin. "Her book on prenatal nutrition is quite sessful.

    She¡¯s truly an expert with pregnant women and newborns."

    I couldn¡¯t help but smile. "Of course you threw money at the problem. Very on-brand."

    Catherine suddenly leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice despite the empty hallway. "Do you know why George Simpson invited my parents to dinner recently?"

    "Why?"

    "I finally got it out of my mom. George Simpson wanted my parents to help convince you to remarry Jack."

    I stopped abruptly, my hand instinctively moving to protect my belly. "What? That¡¯s insane."

    "My parents thought so too. They shut it down immediately," Catherine assured me.

    My brain struggled to process this information. "But Mary already brought Lucy back. That makes no sense."

    Catherine¡¯sugh was sharp and bitter.

    "That¡¯s the most twisted part. Lucy apparently agreed to stay at the Simpson house without any official status. George Simpson wants his son to have both of you¡ªone as the respectable wife, one as the mistress behind closed doors."

    The audacity left me speechless. So this was their game they couldn¡¯t stand losing Skke District and would use me to get it back if possible.

    "And Mary¡¯s fine with sharing her precious son?" I finally managed, voice dripping with sarcasm.

    "She doesn¡¯t actually care about Lucy," Catherine exined. "Lucy¡¯s just there to tter her and be her emotional punching bag. Mary keeps her around because she¡¯s easy to control."

    Catherine¡¯s face flushed with indignation. "These people are living in the neenth century! Keeping a mistress in the family home?

    Disgusting. My parents tore into them.

    Now I¡¯m just waiting to see if they¡¯ll actually marry Lucy like Mary¡¯s been insisting."

    As Catherine continued her tirade, a strange sense of detachment washed over me. I gently caressed my stomach, feeling oddly at peace. Jack Simpson, Lucy Taylor, the entire Simpson family¡¯s drama-none of it mattered anymore.

    "You know what?" I interrupted softly.

    "I don¡¯t care anymore. I have two babies to focus on and money to make.

    Jack and Lucy can do whatever they want."

    Marcus¡¯s POV

    The damp night air hit my face as I stepped out of the car, my suit instantly absorbing the squalid odors of this part of town. I finally found him. Enough was enough.

    "Sir, are you sure we should go in?

    Maybe we should reconsider, this feels too risky." Peter Reed¡¯s voice carried unmistakable concern as he fell into step beside me.

    I didn¡¯t answer immediately. Fatigue crawled up my spine like a persistent insect, but the bone-deep irritation I felt toward Doyle overpowered it. The man was a cockroach that refused to die-not just disgusting, but requiring constant vignce.

    <fnfd7d> For original chapters go to find[?]ovel</fnfd7d>

    "We¡¯re going in," I replied curtly, striding toward the bar entrance without breaking pace.

    Peter leaned close, his breath warm against my ear. "Sir, this ce isn¡¯t secure."

    "There¡¯s nothing insecure about it," I said coldly. "No matter who they are, they¡¯re nothing but insects to us."

    I kicked the door open without ceremony. The lighting inside was abysmal, the air a noxious mixture of cheap tobo and stale alcohol.

    Several pairs of eyes turned in our direction-along with the barrels of at least four guns. I felt a momentary tension ripple through my body, but it dissolved into contempt. Did these people really think a few guns would intimidate Marcus Murphy?

    Peter stepped forward, his tone dropping to something menacing and primordial. "Tell that piece of garbage Doyle to show himself. Everyone else who doesn¡¯t want to die, get out of the way."

    No one moved. The air seemed to solidify, pressing against my skin. I could feel my heartbeat quicken but maintained my cial expression. This was a battle of wills-whoever showed weakness first would lose.

    I nodded slightly. Peter understood immediately and signaled with his hand. One of our men promptly threw a travel bag onto the floor. Itnded with a dull thud that echoed through the silent bar.

    The golden-bearded man nearest to the bag stared at the bundles of cash that spilled out. I watched greed rece hostility in his eyes. Indeed, there was no problem in the world money couldn¡¯t solve-and if there was, it simply meant you hadn¡¯t offered enough.

    Within minutes, the thugs were scrambling to divide the cash, their loyalty to Doyle evaporating like cheap whiskey.

    "Thud!"

    Peter threw Doyle at my feet like garbage, his mouth stuffed with a rag, his hands tightly bound.

 Chapter 102: Fates Intertwined

    <h4>Chapter 102: Fates Intertwined</h4>

    Marcus¡¯s POV

    I crouched down and yanked the rag from Doyle¡¯s mouth, maintaining a calcted distance. His response was predictable a glob of salivaunched in my direction. I sidestepped it with practiced ease, my expression unchanged while disgust and cold fury bubbled beneath the surface.

    Peter¡¯s reaction was immediate. He rushed forward and stomped his foot onto Doyle¡¯s face, grinding down with barely restrained rage.

    "Trust me, I¡¯ll kill you," Doyle growled, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. His eyes burned with hatred, voice distorted by pain but unmistakably threatening. "Unless you kill me today, I¡¯ll murder your entire family."

    I stared down at him, murderous intent rising within me while maintaining my cial exterior. Peter increased the pressure of his foot, his voice dropping to match the temperature of my gaze.

    "Family is off-limits, Doyle. You want to break the rules?"

    Blood trickled from Doyle¡¯s mouth as his eyes locked onto mine with sinister intensity. "To hell with the rules. My only rule is to kill you, make you suffer, send you to hell." He paused, his mouth twisting into a smile that made my skin crawl. "Marcus Murphy, you¡¯ve been back to America quite frequentlyst year. Is there someone special waiting for you there?"

    The words hit me like a physical blow.

    rm bells screamed in my head, a chill racing from my feet to my skull.

    For years, I¡¯d meticulously protected my family, ensuring my business remained entirely separate from my home life. Doyle¡¯s implication froze my blood, but I suppressed every outward sign of reaction.

    "What are you trying to say?" My voice emerged controlled, betraying nothing of the panic wing at my chest.

    Peter¡¯s face tensed with anxiety. "Sir, this animal can¡¯t be allowed to live."

    Doyle¡¯sughter echoed off the grimy walls, satisfaction dripping from every sound. "Marcus Murphy, are you afraid? Did I guess correctly?"

    My heart hammered against my ribs, but my expression remained carved from stone. My family in America represented my greatest vulnerability, my absolute bottom line. I stood up slowly, voice deliberately level.

    "Take him away." After a weighted pause, I added two decisive words.

    "Deep water."

    Relief washed over Peter¡¯s face. He¡¯d clearly worried I might show mercy¡ªa foolish concern. For those who threatened my family, there would never be leniency.

    Doyle thrashed against his restraints, curses spilling from his bloodied lips.

    "Marcus Murphy, I¡¯ll curse you. You destroyed my family, and I will repay you tenfold¡ª"

    Peter shoved the rag back into his mouth, silencing the tirade. I turned and walked toward the exit, outwardlyposed while unease churned through my gut.

    --

    In the car, Peter¡¯s eyes constantly flicked to the rearview mirror, fingers drumming anxiously against the steering wheel.

    "Sir, doesn¡¯t this seem too easy?" His voice carried the tension we both felt.

    I stared out at the rain-slicked streets, considering his words. There was truth in them-the capture had been suspiciously straightforward. Before I could respond, headlights suddenly flooded our vehicle from multiple directions.

    "Damn my big mouth! Sir, hold on tight," Peter cursed, yanking the wheel sharply left.

    Our car lurched sickeningly as tires screamed against wet pavement.

    Through the window, I caught sight of one of our vehicles overturning, and then-impossibly-Doyle crawling from the wreckage.

    "After him," I ordered, my tone leaving no room for negotiation.

    Peter¡¯s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. "Sir, they¡¯re targeting you specifically. We can¡¯t pursue."

    My response was simple: "Either chase him, or stop the car."

    The meaning hung between us, crystal clear¡ªif he wouldn¡¯t pursue, I would do it myself. My family¡¯s safety superseded everything; Doyle had to be eliminated tonight.

    Peter¡¯s jaw clenched as he elerated, tires hydroning momentarily before catching traction. Ahead, a ck SUV swerved to block our path, Doyle visible in the passenger seat.

    "Ram them off the road," Imanded, the anger I¡¯d been restraining finally bleeding into my voice.

    Our vehicle mmed into theirs, metal screaming against metal as we forced them toward the guardrail.

    ---

    The cliff edge materialized like a final judgment, waves crashing against jagged rocks far below. Moonlight silvered the scene, casting my face in cold illumination as I approached Doyle, gun steady in my hand.

    "Marcus Murphy, what will it take for you to let me go?" Fear finally crept into his voice, the cockiness evaporating as he backed toward the precipice.

    "Did I let you go? Did you spare Darren Ramirez?" The name brought a wave of painful memories washing over me those desperate days of being hunted, Ryan¡¯s leg injury, Darren¡¯s death. The agony of my decision to stay away from America, from her* , all to protect my family.

    "You destroyed my family!" Doyle screamed, pulling a gun from his jacket, aiming it squarely at my chest.

    "The deaths of your parents and sister have nothing to do with me." My voice was ice. I¡¯d had conflicts with Doyle¡¯s business interests, certainly, but never intended harm to his family members.

    Doyle¡¯s eyes zed with hatred, his gun hand trembling. "Nothing to do with you? If you hadn¡¯t caused my family¡¯s bankruptcy, stolen our assets, would my parents have died? My sister loved you so much, yet you yed with her feelings. She knelt before you, begging you to spare our family, and you heartlessly refused.

    Are you even human?"

    "Is that what you believe?" I stared at Doyle, my voice cutting through the night air like a de. "Your sister¡¯s feelings were entirely one-sided. I never led her on. In fact, I explicitly rejected her advances numerous times."

    The wind whipped around us, carrying the scent of salt and decay from the rocks below. Doyle¡¯s face contorted with rage, his knuckles white around his gun.

    "But she died because of you!" he screamed, his voice cracking with raw emotion. "She died right in front of you! How do you sleep at night?

    Doesn¡¯t her ghost haunt you?"

    A cold sensation spread through my chest, but not from fear. I¡¯d long ago made peace with what happened. I wasn¡¯t responsible for her choices, however tragic the oue.

    "My conscience is clear," I replied, my tone as frigid as the night air. I could feel Peter¡¯s tension beside me, but my focus remained locked on Doyle.

    Seeing Doyle¡¯s unhinged fury, I recognized he¡¯d passed the point of rational thought. His unpredictability made him dangerous, but also predictable in his rashness.

    "Look around, Murphy. There are three of us and only two of you," Doyle suddenly switched tactics, a sly grin spreading across his face. "If you¡¯re scared, we can call it a night and settle this another time."

    I nearlyughed at his pathetic attempt at intimidation. Did he genuinely believe numbers equated to advantage?

    "I may only have one man with me," I replied evenly, "but either of us could kill you before you even pull that trigger. As for your men..." I paused, silently dismissing the street thugs he¡¯d hastily recruited. Their hands trembled on their weapons like amateurs.

    I slowly raised my left hand, pointing directly at my heart. "Aim here. Try not to let your hand shake."

    My deliberate provocation had its intended effect. Peter¡¯s anxiety beside me was palpable, but his loyalty never wavered as his eyes remained fixed on our adversaries.

    "Murphy, I fucking hate that arrogant look on your face¡ª" Doyle snarled, his finger tightening on the trigger as he aimed at my chest.

    I didn¡¯t flinch, my heartbeat steady. I trusted Peter, and I trusted my own judgment. A gunshot cracked through the tension, but it wasn¡¯t from Doyle¡¯s weapon.

    Doyle¡¯s eyes widened in shock as he looked down at his chest. Disbelief washed over his features as he staggered backward, then disappeared over the cliff edge.

    Peter rushed to the precipice, firing several more shots downward before turning back to me. "Should have put a few more in him," he said, regret and unease mingling in his voice.

    Doyle¡¯s men stared in stunned silence.

    "What the hell?" one stammered. "Our boss was still talking¡ªyou can¡¯t just-"

    Peter didn¡¯t waste words on them, simply pointing his gun in their direction. "Either leave now, or join your boss down there." They scrambled to their vehicles, tripping over themselves in their haste to escape.

    Despite their retreat, I couldn¡¯t affordcency. "Get people here. I want confirmation¡ªa body or solid evidence he¡¯s dead."

    "Yes, Mr. Murphy," Peter nodded sharply.

    The next morning, Peter entered my office with a grim expression that told me everything before he spoke a word.

    "We found blood on the rocks below, a substantial amount, but no body, sir."

    My jaw tightened. Doyle was still alive.

    "I failed you, sir. I should have made certain. I¡¯ll find him immediately," Peter said, self-reproach heavy in his voice.

    I studied his exhausted features, the dark circles under his eyes evidence of his sleepless night. "This isn¡¯t on you, Peter."

    I sat back in my chair, twirling a fountain pen between my fingers as I considered our next move. "Doyle will need time to recover from that wound.

    While he¡¯s in hiding, dismantle everything he¡¯s built. Leave him with nothing to return to."

    Peter¡¯s expression sharpened with understanding. "I¡¯ll start immediately."

    Over the following month, reports flowed in daily as Doyle¡¯s empire crumbled piece by piece. His businesses, properties, andworks fell into my hands or dissolved entirely. His allies were bought, intimidated, or eliminated. His financial resources were frozen or appropriated.

    Anna¡¯s POV

    Iy back on the examination table, trying to ignore the cold gel spreading across my abdomen as the doctor maneuvered the ultrasound wand with practiced precision. The monitor beside us flickered with grainy ck and white images-my twins, their tiny forms bing clearer with each passing week.

    "These babies will likely have prominent nose bridges-definitely beautiful features in the making," the doctor smiled, her fingers rapidly recording data on the keyboard.

    My nose bridge isn¡¯t particrly high, so they must take after their father.

    Unbidden, my mind conjured the half-profile I¡¯d glimpsed that morning-his nose bridge was indeed prominent.

    Then, Marcus Murphy¡¯s image suddenly intruded into my thoughts¡ª his nose bridge is high too. The realization made me tense, and I quickly redirected my attention to the doctor.

    "Everything looks perfect," she continued, oblivious to my internal turmoil. "Both babies are developing right on schedule. Would you like to know the gender?"

    "Not yet," Mother answered from her chair beside me, her eyes fixed on the monitor with undisguised awe. "We want it to be a surprise."

    I nodded in agreement, though part of me ached to know everything about these two lives growing inside me. My hand instinctively moved to my slightly rounded belly, a protective gesture that had be second nature.

    After the examination, Mother and I walked through the hospital¡¯s hushed corridor, our heels clicking against the polished floor. Security personnel maintained a respectful distance, ensuring the privacy that Skyview City¡¯s elite demanded from their medical care.

    "Annie, I think we should arrange for moreprehensive gic testing," Mother suggested, adjusting her cashmere scarf as we approached the exit. "Just to be safe."

    "The doctor said everything looks normal," I replied, pushing through the revolving door into the crisp spring air.

    Mother¡¯s steps suddenly faltered. "Is... is that Marcus?" Her voice filled with surprise. "I¡¯s been months since we¡¯ve seen him. When did he return?"

    My heart lurched painfully against my ribs. Standing near a sleek ck town car was Marcus Murphy, his tall figure unmistakable even from a distance.

    The early afternoon sunlight cast his profile in sharp relief.

    "I don¡¯t know. Catherine hasn¡¯t mentioned anything," I replied calmly, though I felt a strange strength building inside me. Perhaps it was the two little lives giving me courage to face past heartbreak withposure.

    The memory of flying across the ocean to find him now seemed like just another harsh lesson reality had taught me.

    Seeing Mother¡¯s nervous expression, I couldn¡¯t help but smile. "Mom, act normal. Why do you look so guilty?"

    Mother¡¯s face betrayed her thoughts¡ª she clearly still suspected the children were Marcus¡¯s.

    He approached us, his gaze lingering on my face before politely shifting away.

    "Mrs. Shaw," he greeted my mother first, his tone gentle yet somewhat distant.

    Then he turned to me: "Annie."

    <fn6d62> Th? link to the orig?n of this information r?sts ?n Find1Novel</fn6d62>

    Hearing this affectionate nickname sent a pang through my heart. How could he still use it so naturally? Once that name carried so much tenderness, but

    now only awkwardness and distance remained.

    "Oh, Marcus! You¡¯re back again? When did you arrive?" Mother¡¯s smile looked forced, her emphasis on "again" almost revealing her suspicions.

    "Last night," Marcus answered briefly, his gaze inadvertently ncing at my slightly rounded abdomen-just for a moment, but enough to make my heart skip.

    I forced myself to maintain a smile. "I visited your grandfather William a few days ago. He was just talking about you. He¡¯ll be delighted you¡¯re back."

    My tone was deliberately formal, using respectful terms as if reminding him of the unbridgeable gap between us.

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 Chapter 103: What He Knows

    <h4>Chapter 103: What He Knows</h4>

    Marcus¡¯s POV

    I stood frozen, watching Anna¡¯s profile in the afternoon sunlight. Seeing her again aroused of emotion through me so powerful I nearly staggered. My children-our twins-were growing inside her, and she had no idea I knew.

    "Just picking up some medication for my father," I said smoothly, forcing my voice to remain casual. "He¡¯s feeling a bit under the weather today."

    Elizabeth Shaw studied me with barely concealed suspicion, her protective stance beside Anna speaking volumes.

    "We just finished Anna¡¯s checkup. She was feeling a bit dizzy this morning."

    My chest tightened with concern. I wanted to step forward, to offer my arm for support, to be the one she leaned on. Instead, I maintained my careful distance, this charade of polite interest killing me by inches.

    "Would you like me to rmend a specialist? I have connections here." Murphy Global owned a significant stake in this hospital.

    "How¡¯s William doing? Is it serious?" Anna asked, her genuine concern for my father warming something inside me. Even now, even after everything, her kindness remained intact.

    "Just a minor cold," I replied softly, unable to tear my eyes from her face.

    Elizabeth adjusted her grip on Anna¡¯s arm. "We should be going. Annie needs to rest."

    Anna nodded, squaring her shoulders with that quiet determination I¡¯d always admired. "It¡¯s gettingte. We shouldn¡¯t keep Uncle Marcus from getting William¡¯s medicine." She paused, her voice growing more formal. "T¡¯ll visit him soon. Goodbye, Uncle Marcus."

    "Head home soon," I managed, struggling to maintain my usual tone.

    "Come by for dinner sometime."

    She nodded politely-the kind of meaningless social gesture exchanged between casual acquaintances- before turning away, nked by her mother and their security detail. I remained rooted to the spot, watching their silver car pull away from the curb and disappear into the afternoon traffic.

    "Sir?" Peter¡¯s voice broke through my trance. "Should we follow them or...?"

    I forced myself to turn toward the hospital entrance. "Let¡¯s get the medicine."

    - - -

    William looked genuinely confused when I handed him the packagester that evening. We sat in his study at Murphy Estate, the amber glow of tablemps casting long shadows across the antique furniture.

    "What¡¯s this for? Who¡¯s sick?" He examined the cold medicine with furrowed brows.

    "The weather¡¯s been unpredictable.

    Just stocking up for you." I passed the packages to the housekeeper, my mind still fixed on Anna¡¯s pregnant form, the gentle curve of protection her hand had formed over her belly.

    A peculiar expression crossed my father¡¯s face-touched, perhaps, by what he perceived as thoughtfulness.

    The irony wasn¡¯t lost on me. These medicines were merely a pretext to see Anna, yet they¡¯d inadvertently created this moment of apparent filial devotion.

    "I saw Anna today," I said finally, my voice low. "At the hospital."

    William¡¯s eyes sharpened instantly. "Is she alright? The babies?"

    "They seemed fine." I moved to the window, staring out at the manicured grounds of Murphy Estate. The words I needed to say next lodged in my throat like broken ss.

    "Dad," I began, the informal address feeling strange on my tongue, "while I¡¯m away, please look after her for me."

    His stunned silence confirmed my suspicion¡ªI rarely addressed him so personally.

    "Have you gotten yourself into trouble overseas?" he asked, concern evident in his weathered features.

    I turned to face him, allowing some of my burden to show. "Something like that. I won¡¯t be able to return often until matters are resolved." I swallowed hard. "I¡¯m sorry to burden you with this."

    William¡¯s expression softened in a way I hadn¡¯t seen since childhood. "Those are your children, my future grandchildren. I¡¯d risk my life to protect them."

    Unexpected warmth spread through my chest. For years, I¡¯d believed an unbridgeable chasm separated us, but in this moment, I felt his profound fatherly love.

    "Resolve things quickly and return to marry Annie," he said firmly, authority returning to his voice. "Your children deserve their father¡¯s name."

    Anna¡¯s POV

    I stared at my phone screen for what felt like hours, my finger hovering over the contactbeled simply "3303." The ride home from the hospital had been quiet, with Mom shooting me those knowing nces that made my skin crawl. Meeting Marcus Murphy in the hospital parking lot had thrown me off bnce more than I cared to admit.

    Once alone in my bedroom, I kicked off my shoes and sank onto the edge of my bed. The twins stirred inside me, a gentle fluttering that still took my breath away each time. My hand instinctively moved to cradle my slightly rounded belly.

    The memory of Marcus¡¯s face when he spotted me outside the hospital reyed in my mind. The sh of something in his eyes¡ªwas it longing?

    Regret? Whatever it was, it had disappeared so quickly I might have imagined it.

    My phone screen illuminated with a notification. Catherine asking about nursery colors. I ignored it and instead opened the messaging app, finding the conversation with "3303."

    Ourst exchange had been weeks ago ¡ªa simple rejection from him when I¡¯d suggested continuing our arrangement, followed by my equally simple "It¡¯s fine." Nothing since.

    Now, with twins growing inside me¡ª his twins, though he had no idea-the time hade to close this Chapter permanently.

    I began typing: "This arrangement ends here. You¡¯re free to find someone else."

    My thumb hovered over the send button. Was I being fair? This nameless, faceless man had unknowingly fathered my children.

    Did he deserve more than this cold dismissal?

    _No. I stole his seed, in and simple. We never agreed to create life together._

    The thought sat ufortably in my chest, a weight that pressed against my lungs. But that had been my n all along, hadn¡¯t it? Find someone, get pregnant, raise my heir alone. Keep the Shaw legacy intact without theplication of love ormitment.

    I hit send before I could second-guess myself.

    Three dots appeared, disappeared, then nothing.

    <fn8001> Read full story at findnovel</fn8001>

    I waited five minutes, ten, fifteen. No response came.

    Next thing I know, I deleted his contact information and blocked him.

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 Chapter 104: Unveiled

    <h4>Chapter 104: Unveiled</h4>

    Anna¡¯s POV

    The dining room hummed with possibility. I surveyed the faces around me: Catherine with her characteristic intensity, Jasmine Butler¡¯s shrewd business acumen, Nora¡¯s newfound confidence, and Mason¡¯s barely contained excitement.

    "Ms. Shaw, the livestream numbers for Nora¡¯s tea presentations have exceeded all projections," Mason leaned forward, tablet in hand, eyes bright with sess. "In just one month, we¡¯ve reached nearly a million followers, and revenue projections suggest we¡¯ll double our previous estimates by quarter¡¯s end."

    I caught Nora sitting straighter, a quiet pride transforming her features. Gone was the fragile woman who¡¯d once believed herself worthless; in her ce sat a poised professional. The satisfaction of witnessing her transformation warmed my chest more than I cared to admit.

    "I have a colleague who specializes in heritage embroidery," Jasmine said, her tone direct as always. "An artform passed down through generations.

    She¡¯s looking for the right tform to showcase these traditional techniques.

    The craftsmanship is exquisite."

    <fnc534> N?w ?ovel chapt?rs are published on Find[?]ovel</fnc534>

    Mason¡¯s mind was already spinning with possibilities. "We could feature traditional artisan products alongside our tea collection. Ms. Shaw, showcasing only our own products in the livestreams can get monotonous.

    These heritage treasures could diversify our offerings while promoting traditional craftsmanship. It¡¯s not just business¡ªit¡¯s cultural preservation."

    I studied him thoughtfully. His instincts for the market are almost uncanny now.

    "It would also enrich our content," Nora added, her voice carrying a confidence that hadn¡¯t existed weeks ago. "The stories behind these heritage crafts would attract viewers interested in both luxury and cultural significance."

    After weighing their arguments, I nodded. "Mason, I trust your judgment on this. You know Luminary Trade Ventures better than anyone."

    His expression shifted to one of measured responsibility. "I¡¯ll handle everything, Ms. Shaw. I¡¯ll personally oversee the quality control process."

    I turned to Jasmine. "Have your friend contact Mason directly. If their quality meets our standards, I see no reason why we can¡¯t move forward with this coboration."

    Relief washed over Jasmine¡¯s face. I understood that feeling-the weight of advocating for someone else¡¯s interests and the satisfaction of sess. The business world rarely offered opportunities for simple kindness; these moments felt particrly valuable.

    As our conversation progressed, a scent drifted across the room¡ª cigarette smoke from a nearby table.

    My stomach churned instantly, a violent wave of nausea hitting me with unexpected force. I pressed my hand against my mouth, trying to suppress the growing difort.

    "Anna? What¡¯s wrong?" Catherine¡¯s concerned voice cut through my distress, her sharp eyes missing nothing.

    I grimaced, feeling my stomach revolt against me. "Someone¡¯s smoking-the smell is making me sick." I quickly sipped water, hoping to quell the rising nausea.

    Instead of subsiding, the sensation intensified. The cigarette odor seemed to cling to my senses, refusing to dissipate. A stronger wave surged up my throat, and I hastily stood, one hand still pressed against my mouth.

    "Excuse me," I managed before hurrying toward the restroom.

    Catherine¡¯s POV

    I watched with growing concern as Anna¡¯s face suddenly drained of color.

    Her hand flew to her mouth, and without a word, she bolted toward thedies¡¯ room. Rachel and yton trailed after her like well-trained shadows, leaving the rest of us at the table in awkward silence.

    Nora and Jasmine exchanged confused nces. They had no idea what was happening, but I knew exactly what was going on. Anna was already three months pregnant, and soon enough, that perfect belly of hers would start to show. There was no point keeping it secret anymore.

    "You should go check on her," I told Nora with a casual shrug. "Anna¡¯s pregnant."

    Nora¡¯s mouth dropped open like she¡¯d been pped. For a moment, she just sat there processing this bombshell before scrambling to her feet and rushing after Anna.

    Jasmine collected herself with remarkable poise, a gentle smile softening her features. "Ms. Shaw is quite brave."

    Coming from her¡ªa single mother who¡¯d wed her way up the corporatedder while raising a child alone-this wasn¡¯t empty ttery. It was one warrior recognizing another.

    Warmth spread through my chest as I realized just how many people were in Anna¡¯s corner.

    The moment of reflection was shattered by the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke wafting across the dining room. My nostrils red in irritation. _Who the hell smokes indoors at a ce like this?_ I scanned the room with narrowed eyes, quickly identifying the culprit¡ªa middle-aged man with a receding hairline and the self-satisfied smirk of someone who¡¯s never faced consequences.

    Without hesitation, I rolled up my sleeves and marched over to his table.

    In one swift motion, I plucked the cigarette from his pudgy fingers and extinguished it in his half-eaten steak.

    "No smoking indoors," I said, my voice dropping to a cial register. "Have some consideration for others."

    The man looked up, his forehead creasing with anger. "Who the hell are you?"

    If he¡¯d just apologized, I would¡¯ve let it go. But his challenging tone made something snap inside me. Though fury bubbled beneath my skin, I kept my exterior perfectlyposed.

    "Your worst nightmare," I replied without missing a beat.

    Jasmine and Mason had materialized behind me, a show of solidarity that warmed my heart. But the smoking man¡¯spanions-four equally unpleasant-looking specimens-had risen from their seats as well. Three against five, and our side consisted of two women and, well, Mason wasn¡¯t exactly intimidating. The odds weren¡¯t great.

    The smoker stood with his protruding belly, a cold smirk stretching across his face as he deliberately pulled out another cigarette and lit it. He took a deep drag, then blew the smoke directly at me.

    His gaze flicked to my wrist, lingering on my watch. "That¡¯s a fake, isn¡¯t it?

    Or a gift from some man?"

    Something inside me ignited. Without a word, I grabbed a ss of red wine from a nearby table. The man¡¯s expression shifted to smug satisfaction, clearly thinking I was intimidated.

    "No need for that," he chuckled. "If you put those pretty lips to use lighting my cigarette, I might consider forgiving-"

    Before he could finish, I¡¯d emptied the entire ss over his head. The wine ran down his face in satistying rivulets, staining his white cor.

    "You crazy bitch, you¡¯re dead," he spluttered, wiping wine from his eyes while reaching for something behind him.

    In that tense moment, there was a sudden "CRACK!" as a wine bottle connected with the side of the smoker¡¯s head. His eyes rolled back, and he crumpled to the floor like a marite with cut strings.

    Mason stood there, visibly trembling despite his attempt at bravado, the broken bottle neck still clutched in his white-knuckled grip.

    "Nobody move!" he shouted, voice cracking slightly. "Do you have any idea who thisdy is? She¡¯s Catherine Murphy of the Murphy family!"

    I bit back augh. _Oh, Mason. Sweet, terrified Mason. While I appreciated the gesture, assaulting someone with a wine bottle was a bit extreme.

    Restaurant security materialized almost instantly, their efficiency suggesting they¡¯d been watching the situation unfold. As they dealt with the unconscious smoker, something caught my eye across the room¡ªa tall figure carrying someone in his arms.

    My breath caught in my throat. _Uncle Marcus?

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