Anna’s POV
The dining room humd with possibility. I surveyed the faces around : Catherine with her characteristic intensity, Jasmine Butler’s shrewd business acun, Nora’s newfound confidence, and Mason’s barely contained excitent.
"Ms. Shaw, the livestream numbers for Nora’s tea presentations have exceeded all projections," Mason leaned forward, tablet in hand, eyes bright with success. "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 place sat a poised professional. The satisfaction of witnessing her transformation ward 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 platform to showcase these traditional techniques.
The craftsmanship is exquisite."
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—it’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 argunts, I nodded. "Mason, I trust your judgnt on this. You know Luminary Trade Ventures better than anyone."
His expression shifted to one of asured 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 ets our standards, I see no reason why we can’t move forward with this collaboration."
Relief washed over Jasmine’s face. I understood that feeling-the weight of advocating for soone else’s interests and the satisfaction of success. The business world rarely offered opportunities for simple kindness; these monts felt particularly valuable.
As our conversation progressed, a scent drifted across the room— cigarette smoke from a nearby table.
My stomach churned instantly, a violent wave of nausea hitting with unexpected force. I pressed my hand against my mouth, trying to suppress the growing discomfort.
"Anna? What’s wrong?" Catherine’s concerned voice cut through my distress, her sharp eyes missing nothing.
I grimaced, feeling my stomach revolt against . "Soone’s smoking-the sll is making sick." I quickly sipped water, hoping to quell the rising nausea.
Instead of subsiding, the sensation intensified. The cigarette odor seed 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 ," 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 the ladies’ room. Rachel and Clayton trailed after her like well-trained shadows, leaving the rest of us at the table in awkward silence.
Nora and Jasmine exchanged confused glances. 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 slapped. For a mont, 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—a single mother who’d clawed her way up the corporate ladder while raising a child alone-this wasn’t empty flattery. It was one warrior recognizing another.
Warmth spread through my chest as I realized just how many people were in Anna’s corner.
The mont of reflection was shattered by the unmistakable sll of cigarette smoke wafting across the dining room. My nostrils flared in irritation. _Who the hell smokes indoors at a place like this?_ I scanned the room with narrowed eyes, quickly identifying the culprit—a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and the self-satisfied smirk of soone 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 glacial register. "Have so 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 sothing snap inside . Though fury bubbled beneath my skin, I kept my exterior perfectly composed.
"Your worst nightmare," I replied without missing a beat.
Jasmine and Mason had materialized behind , a show of solidarity that ward my heart. But the smoking man’s companions-four equally unpleasant-looking specins-had risen from their seats as well. Three against five, and our side consisted of two won 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 .
His gaze flicked to my wrist, lingering on my watch. "That’s a fake, isn’t it?
Or a gift from so man?"
Sothing inside ignited. Without a word, I grabbed a glass 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 glass over his head. The wine ran down his face in satistying rivulets, staining his white collar.
"You crazy bitch, you’re dead," he spluttered, wiping wine from his eyes while reaching for sothing behind him.
In that tense mont, 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 marionette 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 this lady is? She’s Catherine Murphy of the Murphy family!"
I bit back a laugh. _Oh, Mason. Sweet, terrified Mason. While I appreciated the gesture, assaulting soone with a wine bottle was a bit extre.
Restaurant security materialized almost instantly, their efficiency suggesting they’d been watching the situation unfold. As they dealt with the unconscious smoker, sothing caught my eye across the room—a tall figure carrying soone in his arms.
My breath caught in my throat. _Uncle Marcus?
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