Marcus’s POV
My fingers tightened around the tablet’s edge until my knuckles blanched white._ As if I needed the reminder._
"I’m well aware of the risks, Peter," I replied, my voice colder than I intended.
"With all due respect, sir..." Peter hesitated, choosing his words carefully.
"You’ve made many enemies in Europe. Doyle might be weakened, but others would gladly take his place.
They’re watching your movents closely."
I didn’t respond, instead tapping the screen to replay Anna’s interview. Each ti I watched, I noticed sothing new—the slight tremble in her fingers when she ntioned legal action, the barely perceptible way she shifted her weight to ease the pressure on her lower back.
’That’s enough." I cut Peter off before he could continue his unnecessary warnings. "Have you finished your report?"
Relief flickered across his face. "I’m pleased you’re maintaining perspective, sir. I was concerned I might need to physically restrain you from boarding a plane."
I ignored his poor attempt at humor, focusing instead on Anna’s face filling my screen. The sight of her pregnancy both elated and tortured . Our children grew inside her while I remained an ocean away, unable to claim them publicly.
"Ms. Shaw appears perfectly capable of handling the situation," Peter continued, approaching my desk.
"Forgive for saying so, but she’s always managed difficulties admirably, even in your absence. She’s beco quite formidable."
I shot him a glance. "You know I don’t want to hear that. "
Peter cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Besides, your father is there. William Murphy would never allow harm to co to Ms. Shaw or your children— not from George Simpson, not from anyone."
_Yes, Father._ If not for him, I might have already abandoned caution and returned to Skyview City. The knowledge that he watched over Anna provided my only comfort, the only reason I could endure this excruciating separation.
A sharp knock interrupted my brooding.
"Mr. Jones has arrived," Peter announced.
"I hear that cockroach Doyle is on the move again?" Oliver’s voice bood from the doorway before he sauntered in uninvited.
"Seems so," Peter replied. "Recent activity in Eastern Europe suggests he’s pulling strings again."
Oliver dropped into the chair across from , his casual deanor a stark contrast to my rigid posture. "Let him try. I’d love to personally end this problem."
Without looking up from the tablet, I asked, "Is the Jesse situation resolved?"
"Not entirely," Oliver sighed dramatically. "The man’s being eliberately obtuse. I might need another eting with him." He rolled his eyes. "These Arican businessn are exhausting—all talk, no action."
I glanced up briefly. Despite his complaints about Aricans, Oliver’s own mixed heritage was evident in his Western features-dark hair and eyes contrasting with his fair complexion.
Noticing my absorption with the tablet, he leaned forward curiously. "Since when do you follow social dia, Marcus? Found so internet
celebrity? Sounds like a woman—is she pretty? Let see."
I imdiately shut off the screen, tucking the tablet away. Nobody could see Anna’s video. She was my deepest vulnerability, the weakness I couldn’t afford to expose.
"So secretive," Oliver smirked suggestively. "I follow several gorgeous
European socialites. Want an introduction? Several have been asking about you."
My expression remained impassive as I redirected the conversation. "Don’t waste more ti with Jesse. n like him thrive on negotiation delays. Send a ssenger instead—hell co to us when he’s ready."
"Understood." Oliver leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
"Seriously though, aren’t you lonely? A man of your position and... needs."
"Get out," I replied flatly.
Oliver rose with a mischievous grin.
"I’ll surprise you soon."
Anna’s POV
I wake up in the morning, already dressed in a dress that barely concealed my growing belly.
Catherine stumbled into the foyer, her hair tousled and eyes half-closed.
"What ti did you get up? You’re not sleeping in at all? Heading to the office already?" She stifled a yawn, looking at like I was insane.
"So of us have work to do," I replied, checking my watch. I needed to leave before Elizabeth appeared and questioned about yesterday. The construction site accident was sothing I preferred to keep from her-her protective instincts had intensified tenfold since my pregnancy, and news of such an incident would only amplify her worry.
Too late. Elizabeth approached, concern etched across her elegant features. "Does Shaw Corp stop functioning without you or sothing?
What ti did you get ho last night?" Her eyes narrowed as they fixed on my belly. "You need to care not just about yourself but also about those babies you’re carrying."
My heart softened at her furrowed brow. "It’s fine, I don’t feel tired yet.
When I can’t handle it anymore, I’ll work from ho, okay?" The lie slipped out easily-I was exhausted, but work wouldn’t wait, especially not now.
"Then next month," Elizabeth stated firmly, crossing her arms. "Starting next month, you’ll stop going to the office."
I calculated quickly in my head. By next month, the construction site issue should be resolved, making this an easy promise to keep. "Alright, beautiful. I’ll listen to my gorgeous mother."
Elizabeth laughed despite herself, shaking her head. "About to beco a mother yourself, and still not behaving properly."
Catherine stretched lazily. "You go ahead, I’ll eat sothing and join you later."
As I turned to leave, I suddenly rembered the designer clothes lying untouched in my closet. "This year’s new collection-I haven’t worn any of it. It’s all in the closet, take whatever you want." These clothes wouldn’t fit now, and by next year they’d be out of style. Might as well let Catherine enjoy them.
Her eyes lit up. "Well, I won’t refuse that offer."
Elizabeth laughed beside her.
"Sweetheart, nobody’s asking you to refuse."
Grandma Margaret joined us, her silver hair perfectly coiffed despite the early hour. "You two wear the sa shoe size, right? There are several new pairs that just arrived. Catherine, take those too—a young woman can never have too many nice clothes and shoes." She beckoned to Lily, who quickly hurried off to find boxes.
Catherine blew kisses to all of us dramatically. "Grandma Margaret and Elizabeth understand best. My mother just complains that I buy too many clothes. Love you all!"
A smile tugged at my lips as I watched them. Even facing what might be sabotage at my construction site, my family’s warmth fortified against whatever lay ahead.
- - -
Daniel was already waiting in my office, his eyes bloodshot and jaw shadowed with stubble. The guilt that swept through was sharp-he’d clearly stayed up all night handling the fallout.
"Ms. Shaw, that guy’s keeping his mouth shut," he reported, voice rough with exhaustion. "He insists he was just trying to get justice for Lucius.
The police can’t do much-he denies any connection to those livestrears and reporters, won’t admit he took money from anyone." Daniel ran a hand through his disheveled hair.
"When questioned, he just claims he was influenced by online comnts and wanted to play hero. They can only keep him detained for now, but without additional evidence, they’ll have to release him tomorrow."
"You didn’t sleep last night?" I asked, noting he was still wearing yesterday’s clothes. "Thank you for your hard work."
"I caught a quick nap at the office," he insisted unconvincingly. "I’m fine, not tired."
After a mont’s consideration, 1 made my decision. "Then let’s leave him alone. Your main focus should be following up with the police. As long as we can confirm that Lucius’s accident was deliberate and unrelated to our site managent, I can work on getting construction resud." My voice hardened slightly. "As for who’s behind this, I have my suspicions."
Daniel hesitated. "Ms. Shaw, are you suggesting the Simpsons...?" The question hung unfinished in the air between us.
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