Anna’s POV
My lips curved into a cold smile. "I doubt I’m wrong. Marcus warned about this before." The ntion of his na sent an unwelco pang through my chest. "You’ve been living at the construction site personally overseeing everything, yet this still happened. It’s nearly impossible to prevent. Well, we can’t guard against thieves forever-since they’ve made their move, we’ll respond accordingly."
Looking at Daniel’s haggard face, I softened. "I’ve got the company covered. You should go rest."
He shook his head stubbornly. "I think I should make another trip to the police station."
The door opened as Sean entered, his gaze briefly dropping to my belly before eting my eyes. "Let go instead. Daniel should stay at the company. I’ll handle the police station and construction site."
Daniel’s relief was palpable as he nodded. "Alright, thank you for taking this on."
Rachel chid in from the doorway.
"Then I’ll go to the hospital."
I looked at my team organizing themselves so efficiently and couldn’t help but smile. "Well, you’ve all assigned yourselves nicely." My tone was light, but my gratitude ran deep.
ーーー
By afternoon, I was wading through paperwork when Sean called with news that made my pulse quicken.
"The police found evidence," he reported without preamble. "Lucius’s accident wasn’t accidental—it was deliberately caused."
My grip tightened on the phone. "Go on."
"During their investigation, they discovered that one of Lucius’s close friends—a coworker-disappeared right after the accident," Sean explained. "According to other workers, they were high school classmates who ca to work together and usually worked side by side."
"Where is he now?" I asked, feeling the pieces click into place.
"Vanished. His luggage is gone too.
After canvassing the area, no one knows where he went." Sean’s voice darkened. "Police imdiately issued an arrest warrant, but currently have no leads on his whereabouts."
"Does Lucian know about this?"
"Yes," Sean sighed. "He’s furious. Said soone must have paid the guy to do it. That his family was poor, no girlfriend yet. Kept saying his brother always treated the suspect like family."
Pax’s POV
I stood in George Simpson’s office, shifting my weight from one foot to the other as sweat trickled down my spine. George sat behind his desk, his expression completely unreadable as I delivered my report.
"He ran?" George asked, his voice unnervingly calm.
I swallowed hard, feeling my collar tighten around my throat. "Yes, sir.
The guy was a coward-took off right after it happened. The police have already started searching for him." My voice betrayed , wavering slightly on the last few words.
George dropped the file he was holding onto his desk. The sharp *thwack* made flinch. "Certainly lacking in courage. If he could have just delayed for two days... Never mind."
My mind raced frantically. Was he disappointed? Angry? I couldn’t read him at all, and that terrified more than any outburst would have.
"Mr. Simpson, what should we do now?" I ventured cautiously. "I’ve sent soone to gather information at the hospital, but the dical staff are tight-lipped. I believe the worker is still alive." The words felt bitter in my mouth-hoping for a man’s recovery while simultaneously dreading what he might reveal.
George’s eyes shifted to the window, his focus seemingly miles away. "How long before they can resu construction at Paradise Valley Estates?"
I blinked, montarily thrown by the change in subject. "Ms. Shaw is already taking action. If that worker— Lucius Cox—regains consciousness, they can imdiately close the case.
The police report should co out quickly after that, and construction could resu in four or five days at the earliest."
George nodded slowly. "All in all, the construction will be halted for about ten days. That’s sufficient."
What exactly was sufficient about a ten-day delay? Was this part of so larger plan I wasn’t privy to?
"Where’s Jack?" he asked suddenly.
The question hit like a slap. "I don’t know, sir. I haven’t seen him."
Jack’s POV
The sunlight stabbed through the curtains like needles into my brain. I groaned, rolling away from the offensive brightness. My head pounded with a steady, rciless rhythm.
"Damn it, what ti is it..."
I fumbled for my phone on the nightstand, squinting at the harsh blue light. 6 PM. Jesus Christ. I’d slept the entire day away.
As my vision cleared, I finally registered my surroundings. This wasn’t my bedroom at the Simpson estate—I was in what used to be our marital bedroom. *Our* bedroom.
Anna’s and mine. The realization hit harder than the hangover. mories from last night flooded back-finding the hidden liquor cabinet still stocked with the expensive whiskey Anna never touched, drinking until the edges of my pain blurred enough to let sleep.
Scrolling through missed calls and ssages, a video popped up. Anna at the hospital, standing before a swarm of reporters. Despite her visible exhaustion and that rounded belly carrying another man’s child, she radiated authority and conviction. The sight of her simultaneously ignited relief and despair in my chest.
"She’s... already out of trouble?"
I sat upright despite my throbbing head. Of course she’d handled it. Anna always fixed her own problems-she never needed to rescue her, not then, not now.
"Why does it always end up like this..." I muttered, tossing my phone onto the tangled sheets.
Fate seed determined to ensure I was always absent when Anna needed support, always missing opportunities, always one step behind. I dragged myself to the shower, letting scalding water beat against my skin, wishing it could wash away my regrets as easily as last night’s alcohol.
---
The Simpson mansion lood before . My footsteps were leaden as I pushed open the heavy oak door, the scent of dinner wafting from the dining room. Through the archway, I could see my father George, my mother Mary, and Lucy Taylor seated around the polished table.
Lucy imdiately rose, her face lighting up with practiced warmth.
"Jack, you’re back."
She reached for my coat, glancing toward my parents, she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You should freshen up first. If Mr. Simpson sees you like this, he’ll be upset."
I snatched my coat back from her fingers.
Behind , my mother’s voice drifted into the foyer. "Why isn’t he coming to dinner?"
Lucy’s response was sugar-coated perfection. "Mrs. Simpson, Jack is a bit tired. He’s going to shower and change first. The kitchen is keeping his al warm, so you and Mr. Simpson should eat first."
My mother’s satisfied reply followed up the stairs. "Lucy is always so thoughtful and attentive."
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