Anna’s POV
After explaining for what felt like the hundredth ti 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 .
I told them again about Sean’s past: a top student forced by circumstance to work at the Olympus Club. This ti, sothing 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 surveillance footage.
"We’ve identified him as John Fisher a graduate student who worked under Mr. Torres," Sean announced, pausing on a fra showing the young man slipping a flash 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 ss into the company."
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Before I could respond, an all-too-familiar sneer echoed across the room.
"So your student steals company 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 plays, snapped.
"Yesterday’s agreent 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 a composed smile.
"There’s no need to be so harsh. This still concerns Phoenix, after all. We’ll keep the breach quiet—for 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 ti we put the pieces together, it was too late."
I tapped my fingers on the table, mind racing. "Check his social circles. There must be a link sowhere."
Sean gave a nod, the sa suspicion darkening his gaze. "There’s sothing off," I said. "He would’ve known those were discarded test results. Why steal worthless data? Unless they weren’t worthless."
I t Sean’s eyes. We were on the sa page now.
"Clear Trevor’s na. Get him back on the project. We don’t have ti for delays."
"Yes, Ms. Shaw."
That evening, I brought only Rachel to the business party. I chose my armor well: a black satin rmaid gown paired with a crisp white blazer. My hair was pinned in a classic chignon, power polished into every detail.
The mont 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 in common."
I smiled thinly. "I enjoy running my company."
Not one of them asked about business. I scanned the room for an exit and finally escaped with a well-placed excuse.
Then he appeared.
Tall. Expensively dressed. Arrogant smile firmly in place like he’d never heard the word "no."
"Beautiful lady, may I buy you a drink?" he asked, his eyes shalessly raking over .
"Get lost," I said flatly.
He didn’t budge. Instead, his smile curdled.
"What’s your na, sweetheart?"
I tried to step around him, but he grabbed my wrist hard.
"Playing 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 simring 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 na it. You’re mine tonight."
Enough.
I plucked a glass 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 .
But before he could touch , a strong arm wrapped around my waist, pulling into the safety of a firm chest.
I looked up and t Marcus Murphy’s eyes.
Anna’s POV
Startled, I looked up and found myself staring into the dark, commanding eyes of Marcus Murphy.
"Uncle Marcus?" I breathed, my anger montarily 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 , 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 , evaluating. "Where’s your assistant?"
"Rachel went to the car to grab sothing for ," 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, glaring between Marcus and . "So you like older n? Interesting taste."
Marcus’s face darkened. The warmth disappeared from his features, replaced by sothing 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 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 , calm as ever. "I have so friends I’d like you to et."
My heart skipped. The Murphy network? That kind of access had always been withheld from 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 excitent bubbling beneath my composed exterior.
The corner of his mouth lifted almost a smile.
"Shall we?"
He led toward a private section of the ballroom where several older n 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 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 endorsent. By the end of the introductions, I had more than just handshakes I had promises. Promises of etings, connections, and collaboration. It would’ve taken years to get this far on my own.
I filed away each na and number, ntally charting my next moves. Shaw Corp needed allies. Tonight, I’d gained several.
But just as I began to savor this rare success, Joseph Walker’s voice cut through the hum of conversation.
"I’ve heard Skylake District is up for redevelopnt. Any of you gentlen interested? If not, I might make a move myself."
I froze, champagne halfway to my lips.
Skylake District.
The sa neighborhood where my mother’s family ho the Shaw ancestral mansion stood. That house was the last thread tying us to her childhood, to her mories. If it beca part of so developnt plan...
"Skylake?" one investor scoffed, swirling his brandy. "Mostly wetlands and worn-down hos. 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 it had been business. Cold, calculated.
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 soone else owned it. And if they were part of this redevelopnt... it could be demolished.
Unless I stopped it.
I glanced at Marcus. He was still engaged in the conversation, his expression neutral but when our eyes t, 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-dollar bid at the auction it hadn’t co from Jack or . Soone 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 Skylake District." I paused, steadying my breath. There was no point being vague. "My mother’s family ho 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 ?"
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