Anna’s POV
Catherine peered over my shoulder, her eyebrows arching in surprise.
"Dad? What’s he calling you for?"
I answered, putting the call on speaker. To my surprise, it wasn’t Phillip but William Murphy’s warm, gravelly voice that ca through.
"Annie, is there anything your Grandpa William or your Uncle Phillip can help with? You just say the word.
Don’t worry, don’t be afraid. William’s here to make everything right for you."
The familiar concern in his voice wrapped around like a warm blanket, easing so of the tension from my shoulders. Despite my exhaustion, I couldn’t help but gently scold him.
"William, why aren’t you resting yet?
It’s so late."
Catherine leaned closer to the phone.
"Grandpa, I’m here too. Anyone who dares to bully Shaw Corp or hurt Anna will have to answer to ."
William grumbled good-naturedly, "You! It would be impressive if you weren’t causing Anna more problems."
I quickly defended her, "Catherine helped trendously today. She personally went to get the specialist." The gratitude in my voice was genuine —without her quick thinking, we might have lost Lucius.
"Well, in that case, Catherine deserves recognition," William conceded. "Good job, growing up and becoming more responsible."
Catherine rolled her eyes so dramatically I couldn’t help but laugh.
Even in crisis, these small family interactions provided brief monts of lightness.
"William, I don’t need to trouble you and Phillip for now," I assured him.
"If things get beyond my control, I’ll definitely ask for your help."
- --
Lucius’s surgery lasted ten excruciating hours. When the doctor finally erged, announcing success, the relief that flooded through was almost dizzying. But watching Lucian drop to his knees before the doctor made my heart clench again.
"Don’t thank ," the doctor said, quickly pulling him up. "Thank Dr. Mitchell. Without him here today, your brother would have been in real danger."
When Lucian moved to kneel before too, Daniel thankfully intercepted him. I stepped aside instinctively, uncomfortable with such a display.
"You don’t need to thank . This is what we should do," I said, hoping he understood my sincerity. "Rest assured, we will investigate today’s incident thoroughly-not only to give your brother closure but to prevent similar accidents from happening again."
Lucian looked at , his eyes filled with complex emotions. "Ms. Shaw, I respect you."
His simple statent carried more genuine respect than a thousand flowery words, filling with a renewed sense of responsibility.
---
Dr. Mitchell erged from changing out of his surgical scrubs, his confident smile reassuring. "The young man is tough and resilient. With proper care, there shouldn’t be major issues. Family mbers don’t need to stay here around the clock— go get so rest."
I arranged for Inigo to book rooms at a nearby hotel for Lucian and his coworkers, ensuring they could take turns watching over Lucius during the critical forty-eight-hour window ahead.
Before we left, Daniel cautioned Lucian seriously, "You’ve seen how those people spread rumors online claiming Lucius had died. If they learn the surgery was successful, they might sneak into the hospital to cause harm just to validate their lies."
"What if soone disguises themselves as a doctor to inject poison into Lucius?" one worker blurted out anxiously. "That’s terrifying! We won’t tell anyone, not a soul."
Though sowhat dramatic, their understanding of the situation’s gravity gave so peace of mind.
---
Sean called as we were leaving, informing they’d located the man with glasses and handed him to the police. A small victory, but welco news nonetheless.
Daniel insisted I go ho to rest. I was beyond exhausted, but before leaving, I instructed the PR departnt to monitor online sentint closely.
At Shaw Estate, I collapsed into bed after a quick shower. Logic dictated that such bone-deep fatigue should guarantee dreamless sleep, but instead, my night was filled with fragnted crises that jolted awake repeatedly.
I opened my eyes to dawn’s pale light feeling like I hadn’t slept at all.
———
Betty’s fetal heart monitoring check brought welco reassurance-the twins were doing fine despite my stressful night. After forcing down breakfast under her watchful eye, I retreated to my study to assess the overnight developnts.
My appearance on the livestream had worked remarkably well, shifting public opinion dramatically in our favor. Many internet users were now searching for my social dia accounts, expressing support for both and Shaw Corp. The PR departnt’s overnight efforts had stabilized the situation considerably.
The opposition hadn’t made any new moves yet. I closed my laptop with cautious relief, preparing to head to the office to handle the remaining fallout.
My phone rang, the screen displaying an overseas number that made my heart skip. I stared at it, montarily frozen, before answering.
"Are you alright?" Marcus Murphy’s familiar, steady voice ca through imdiately.
I thought I was immune to his effect on by now, but my accelerating pulse proved otherwise.
"I’m fine," I replied, striving for a casual tone. "Did Uncle Marcus see the news online?"
"I did. You’ve worked hard."
His simple acknowledgnt created unexpected ripples in my composure.
"Working hard for my own project isn’t difficult at all. Thank you for your concern, Uncle Marcus. I’m fine, I’ll handle everything."
His voice carried absolute trust: "I know you can."
Marcus’s POV
I watched her face for the fifth ti today, my fingers hovering over the touchscreen. Anna stood at the hospital entrance, exhaustion etched into her features despite her composed deanor. One hand rested protectively over her swollen belly— our twins-while she faced a firing squad of reporters with unflinching determination.
My heart constricted painfully as I paused the video, zooming in on her face. Dark shadows beneath her eyes betrayed her fatigue, yet her voice remained steady, authoritative. Even five months pregnant with twins, she commanded the room with effortless poise, single-handedly managing a crisis that could have destroyed Paradise Valley Estates.
The leather of my executive chair creaked as I leaned back, a dull ache spreading through my chest. She should be resting, protected, focusing solely on our children’s wellbeing.
Instead, she was fighting battles.
"Sir, Doyle has resurfaced." Peter’s voice cut through my thoughts. He stood at the threshold of my private office, his expression grave. "Our intelligence confirms he’s rebuilding his network. You absolutely cannot return to Skyview City now. It’s too dangerous."
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