Anna’s POV
"Uncle Marcus, thank you for today," I said, working to keep my voice light.
"What a coincidence that you showed up at the Simpson house. What brought you there?"
Marcus’s eyes swept over briefly, his expression as unreadable as ever. "Had so business," he replied flatly.
I ntally sighed. The man was the definition of concise-borderline taciturn. From the mont he’d entered the Simpson mansion to the mont we left, he’d done nothing except stand up for .
As if sensing my thoughts, Marcus unexpectedly elaborated. "Handled your situation. Forgot my own business. I’ll deal with it later."
"Forgot?" I couldn’t hide my surprise.
That seed like an awfully flimsy excuse for soone as ticulous as Marcus Murphy. Watching him awkwardly examine his car’s interior, I wondered how he’d even managed to drive here in the first place.
"Uncle Marcus, how long are you planning to stay in Arica this ti?" I ventured, thinking I should at least offer to take him to dinner as a thank you. I was racking up quite a debt of gratitude with this man.
His response was imdiate and cold.
"Don’t worry. I didn’t co back for you. I won’t be bothering you."
A wave of embarrassnt washed over . I opened my mouth to explain, then thought better of it and swallowed my words. Thankfully, he smoothly changed the subject.
"I’ll have soone handle Lucy. You don’t need to concern yourself with it."
"That won’t be necessary, Uncle Marcus," I replied firmly. "I want to handle this myself."
Marcus turned to look at then, his gaze intense and penetrating.
I offered a small smile. "You’re related to the Simpsons, which puts you in an awkward position. Since Lucy and I need a final reckoning, I should be the one to handle it. Revenge is best served personally, don’t you think?"
His eyes darkened slightly. "Fine," he conceded.
When we reached the gates of Shaw Estate, I made a polite invitation.
"Uncle Marcus, would you like to co in? My grandmother and mother would be delighted to see you."
I could sense he wanted to ask sothing, but ultimately he just said, "I have other matters to attend to.
Don’t tell them I’m back."
"Then when will you be free? I’d like to treat you to dinner," I offered sincerely.
Marcus’s expression darkened slightly at my overly formal tone. "We’ll see," he replied, then promptly drove away, leaving standing at the gates with a strange emptiness settling in my chest.
"You’re ho early?" My mother, Elizabeth, erged from the direction of the greenhouse, still wearing her gardening gloves. Upon seeing , she quickly removed them and hurried over.
"I was in the neighborhood handling so business, thought I’d stop by," I improvised smoothly. "Where’s Grandmother?"
"Margaret caught a chill yesterday.
She’s taken her dicine and is resting now," my mother replied, concern evident in her voice.
"A chill? Is it serious?" I asked, imdiately alard. I handed my purse to the waiting housekeeper and headed toward the stairs.
Mother followed, her voice gentle but concerned. "The weather in Skyview City has been so unpredictable lately.
One mont of carelessness and she caught cold. You should be careful too, Annie. Wear more layers."
I approached Margaret’s bedroom door and knocked gently. When there was no response, I carefully pushed it open. The curtains were drawn, bathing the room in a soft, golden light. My grandmother was sleeping peacefully in her bed, silver hair spread across the pillow.
I didn’t disturb her, simply standing by the bedside silently watching her for a few minutes. Her breathing was steady, and her complexion showed no signs of serious illness. It appeared to be just a common cold. After confirming she wasn’t in any real danger, I quietly closed the door and left the room.
When I returned downstairs, my mother was arranging flowers in a vase.
"She’s asleep, so I didn’t disturb her," I said softly. "It doesn’t look serious, does it?"
Mother nodded. "The doctor says it’s just a normal cold. She’ll be fine with a few days’ rest. You don’t need to worry too much."
This reassured considerably. After chatting with my mother about everyday matters for a while longer, I told her I had work to attend to and needed to leave.
Rosa Villa felt different without Marcus’s presence. The rooms seed larger, emptier sohow. I pushed the thought aside as I focused on the task at hand.
The man Samuel Griffin had delivered to us was kneeling on the floor of the study, trembling visibly as Sean and Rachel stood guard on either side of him. His face was still swollen from whatever "persuasion" Samuel’s n had used, but the fear in his eyes was fresh and directed entirely at .
As soon as I entered, he prostrated himself. "Ms. Shaw, please spare ! I was just blinded by greed, Ms. Shaw.
Jared paid fifty thousand dollars to set up more betting pools. It was all Jared Wood’s idea!"
I looked down at him coldly. "How many did you set up?"
"Just two," he blurted out nervously.
"Mr. Griffin’s n caught before I could set up any more."
"I might be willing to spare you," I said calmly, "but you’ll need to give a reason."
His eyes darted around the room, calculating. "I know Jared’s secrets."
"Talk."
"Jared is in love with Lucy Taylor," he revealed, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "He even has wet dreams about her."
I couldn’t help but laugh at this revelation. So that’s why Jared had been willing to take such risks for Lucy—unrequited love, that most potent of motivators.
"What else?" I pressed. "I’m a businesswoman. I need to see concrete, valuable information."
Under our combined pressure, he eventually spilled everything he knew about the Taylor family’s secrets. Neil Taylor, Lucy’s father, ran a construction company that consistently cut corners and used substandard materials while charging premium prices.
"Ms. Shaw, they have a hospital project that’s about to be inspected," he added desperately. "The inpatient wing at Tranquil Hospital in the West District.
The Taylors did all the interior work."
Rachel’s eyes flashed with indignation.
"Boss, why don’t we give them a taste of their own dicine? Let the Simpson family know that Lucy and Jared are having an affair. Let her experience what it’s like to have her reputation sared."
I shook my head. "Lucy is fixated on marrying into wealth. She’d never risk that for Jared. At most, she’s exploiting his feelings to make him do her bidding." I tapped my fingers thoughtfully against the desk. "That approach would be pointless. Once Jack investigates and finds nothing, Lucy will just play the victim, cry in his arms, and all our efforts will be wasted. We need to target her real weakness."
I accepted the tea Sean had prepared and took a contemplative sip. After a mont of consideration, I turned to Rachel. "I want you to handle this.
First, verify if this information is accurate, then we’ll proceed accordingly."
Sean looked at with undisguised admiration. "Sotis, Ms. Shaw, you make feel inadequate. You’re younger than , yet you handle situations with such composure and wisdom. I’m learning a lot from you."
I smiled at the complint. "You should have seen when I was at my lowest-bruised and battered. You joined during a relatively good period. Rachel and Daniel had it much worse when they first started working with . You should talk to them soti about how naive and foolish I used to be, even worse than Lucy."
Privately, I thought: *The difference is that Lucy has Jack protecting her, allowing her to remain naive. I never had that luxury.* If I didn’t crush Lucy completely this ti, there would be a next ti, and a ti after that, endless complications. I couldn’t allow that to happen.
Anna’s POV
He had noticed , and that look in his eyes sent a cold chill down my spine. I watched as he whispered sothing in Nora’s ear before making his way toward .
"Ms. Shaw, it’s been a while," Samuel said as he approached. His posture was relaxed, confident-the stance of a predator who believed he had his prey cornered.
I forced my lips into a polite smile.
"Mr. Griffin, you’re still in Skyview City. Your business must be going well." My tone remained light, but I kept my guard firmly up.
Samuel raised his champagne flute, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "When Samuel Griffin sets his mind to sothing, failure is not an option." The threat behind his words hung in the air between us,
unmistakable yet impossible to directly call out.
I simply smiled in response, taking a sip of my own champagne. There was no need to escalate things in the middle of a charity gala. Besides, antagonizing him openly would only give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten under my skin.
And then I saw her-Jasmine Butler, the forty-sothing investnt mogul whose career I’d followed since my college days. She stood near one of the fundraising displays, sipping a martini while observing the crowd with keen eyes.
"If you’ll excuse , Mr. Griffin," I
said, already moving past him, "there’s soone I need to speak with."
I didn’t wait for his response, striding purposefully toward Jasmine. Here was a woman who had started with nothing, raised a child as a single mother, and built an empire of five successful investnt firms. If I needed a role model in this male-dominated industry, she was it.
"Ms. Butler," I greeted her with genuine warmth, extending my hand.
"I’m Anna Shaw. It’s such an honor to et you."
Jasmine’s handshake was firm, her smile reaching her eyes as she assessed . "The pleasure is mine, Ms. Shaw. I’ve heard impressive things about you."
"All good, I hope," I replied, feeling a girlish nervousness I hadn’t experienced in years.
"Ms. Shaw, you began managing your family business at eighteen? That’s truly impressive," Jasmine said, studying with interest.
I shifted slightly, not wanting to dive into my family history during our first eting. "Yes, circumstances were...
complicated back then." The understanding in her eyes made relax a little. "But honestly, I admire you more, Ms. Butler. Building five investnt firms on your own-you’re my role model."
Her laugh was warm and genuine. "I had my share of sleepless nights and disaster etings. The glamorous part only cos after you’ve survived the struggles."
We fell into an easy conversation about business strategies and market trends.
For the first ti that evening, I felt truly engaged rather than rely performing the social dance required of . Jasmine’s insights were sharp, her advice practical, and I found myself absorbing every word.
Then I heard it-the unmistakable
sound of mocking laughter just behind , followed by a voice that was deliberately pitched to carry.
"Shaw Corp is such a major company, yet they only donated $100,000? How stingy."
My spine stiffened. I didn’t need to turn around to know who was behind this performance.
"Lucy, your future father-in-law is so generous," another voice chid in.
"When that Hope Elentary School is built, those children will have Jack’s father to thank."
My throat tightened. Being publicly humiliated like this stung, especially in front of soone I admired. I caught Jasmine’s eye and saw her watching the scene unfold with interest.
"Please don’t say that," Lucy’s saccharine voice dripped with false modesty. "Mr. Simpson does charity without expecting anything in return.
Besides, he’s not my father-in-law yet.
Stop saying that or I’ll get upset."
*God, could she be more obvious?* I wanted to roll my eyes at her transparent performance. Lucy had perfected the art of attacking while appearing to defend.
"And don’t talk about Anna like that," she continued, her voice a masterpiece of insincere concern. "Whether soone donates a lot or a little, it’s the thought that counts."
I ntally snorted. *The thought that counts?* This woman was getting better at her backhanded complints.
As expected, her friends imdiately seized the opening she’d provided.
"It is the thought that counts-just seems like Anna Shaw doesn’t have much thought for those children in the mountains," one of them said, barely
suppressing a giggle.
"Exactly," another chid in. "Even the Turner family, who aren’t as wealthy as the Shaws, donated $100,000. And the Porters, who are close to the Shaw family, donated $300,000."
I took a deep breath, forcing my shoulders to relax. Turning to Jasmine, I decided to be straightforward. "Cash flow has been tight lately," I admitted.
"Sorry you had to witness that, Ms. Butler."
Jasmine waved her hand dismissively, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
"What’s there to be sorry about? Every businessperson goes through cash crunches. I once attended charity events without donating a cent. I was so broke I could barely make payroll.
If I hadn’t finally turned things around, who knows what I’d be doing now. Don’t feel embarrassed."
Her candor was refreshing, washing away my discomfort in an instant. "I’m not embarrassed, really. I was just worried you might think poorly of .
Ms. Butler, I’d love to learn from you —I wouldn’t want you thinking I’m stingy."
"Stingy?" She chuckled. "That’s not the word that cos to mind when I hear your na. ’Resilient’ is more like it."
Just as I was about to respond, Catherine’s voice cut through the air like a whip crack.
"So people never learn. Lucy Taylor, didn’t that slap hurt enough last ti?
Why are you here putting down Anna Shaw? Is your na on the donation list?" She stalked toward Lucy’s little group, her eyes blazing. "Lucy, how much did you donate anyway?"
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