Jack’s POV
"Mr. Simpson, that security guard was taken away."
My face darkened as my heart skipped a beat. "Taken away? By whom?" I demanded, feeling my fingers instinctively curl into fists.
This was about Anna’s fall-every lead mattered. I couldn’t afford to lose any thread of information.
The man before shifted uncomfortably. "I think it was Mr. Murphy’s people. That head of security who’s always with him, the intimidating one."
Anger flashed through like lightning. How could my staff be so incompetent at such a critical mont?
The urge to fire him on the spot bubbled up inside .
"Have you never seen Marcus Murphy before? You don’t even recognize his people?" didn’t bother hiding the contempt in my voice.
My subordinate’s face flushed with embarrassnt. "I have, sir, just didn’t pay much attention to details."
I fell silent, digesting this information with mounting frustration. I was used to Pax Powell’s efficiency-these idiots were useless by comparison. A wave of defeat washed over ; I’d spotted the lead first, but soone else had snatched it right from under my nose.
"Mr. Simpson, what should we do now?"
My temple throbbed. *Is he seriously asking this?* "The guy’s been taken. Do you expect to wait here until dawn?" I snapped.
He stared blankly before finally understanding I wanted to leave. "Should we head back to the Simpson residence?"
I pinched the bridge of my nose, exhaustion settling into my bones. After that argunt with my parents, going back ho would be admitting defeat. Pride and stubbornness rose from sowhere deep inside — couldn’t show weakness now.
"Moonlight Cove," I said coldly, deciding to return to my own place instead.
---
The next morning, I headed straight to Murphy Estate, only to discover Marcus wasn’t there. A sense of urgency pushed imdiately toward Golden Oak Manor, his Skyview City residence.
Deep winter had stripped the countryside bare-not a hint of green in sight. Yet at the foot of Golden Oak Manor, patches of evergreens stood defiant against the season. Not as lush as sumr’s offering, but remarkable nonetheless.
The massive iron gates only opened after I received clearance. My car continued for another minute before stopping in front of an imposing mansion.
I was inford that Marcus was in his study on a video conference, so I waited in the foyer. The interior was tastefully decorated with a blend of modern and classic pieces— understated wealth rather than gaudy displays. A few minutes later, I heard his asured footsteps on the staircase.
"What brings you here?" he asked concisely, skipping pleasantries.
I got straight to the point, struggling to keep my voice steady. "Uncle, last night my people saw your security team take that guard away."
Marcus didn’t seem remotely surprised by my visit, which irritated . It felt like he was always ten steps ahead, watching stumble through his perfectly choreographed play.
"Yes, he’s here with ," he confird without hesitation.
Anxiety tightened around my chest.
"Did you find out who’s behind this?
Who did it?" My voice trembled slightly.
Marcus studied with that penetrating gaze that always made feel like a transparent specin. "No need to rush. We’ll discuss once everyone’s here."
I froze, confusion flashing through my mind. I’d assud Marcus was only having Anna brought over, but the situation clearly ran deeper.
Before I could press further, the doorbell rang. Marcus’s security chief appeared with Samuel Griffin in tow.
Minutes later, the Porter brothers— Logan and Oscar-arrived together.
Things were getting complicated fast.
Oscar strode in with his typical exuberance. "Wow, Marcus, this place is really impressive! Aren’t you scared living here all alone at night?"
Anna’s POV
I felt my heart rate accelerate the mont I turned off the highway exit.
Through the windshield, the imposing silhouette of Golden Oak Manor gradually ca into focus, while my thoughts grew increasingly chaotic.
The revelation that this magnificent estate belonged to Marcus Murphy.
Golden Oak Manor wasn’t far from Skylake District, both located in the sa general direction. What shocked even more was discovering that this property had been auctioned together with Nestling Crest Bay. That year, Nestling Crest Bay had beco the most expensive plot in the city, while "fringe areas" like Golden Oak Manor attracted little interest. I rembered this so clearly because my father had ntioned Golden Oak
before his death, predicting it would significantly appreciate in value soday.
Shortly after my father’s passing, the Nestling Crest Bay auction concluded, and property values in that area indeed rose, including around Golden Oak. Thinking back to Marcus’s absolute certainty that Skylake District wouldn’t lose money, and his confident assertion that Nestling Crest Bay would develop quickly, a bold thought suddenly flashed through my mind.
My heartbeat nearly drowned out the car engine’s rumble. Glancing at Peter Reed concentrating on driving in the rearview mirror, I abruptly spoke:
"The person who bought Nestling Crest Bay back then was Marcus, wasn’t it?"
Peter visibly panicked, the car wobbling slightly as he stamred, "Ms. Shaw, how-how did you guess that so quickly?"
My suspicions confird.
"He’s owned Nestling Crest Bay for several years now. Why start developing it only now?" I asked tentatively, my voice hiding a mixture of anticipation and unease.
Peter’s expression turned serious. "Ms. Shaw, I can’t discuss that. If you want to know, you’ll have to ask Mr. Murphy yourself. I’m sorry."
"Is it because of ?" I looked directly at him, voicing my guess.
Peter’s whole body tensed, his silence answering more eloquently than words ever could.
Looking at his expression, what else was there to misunderstand? Marcus rarely returned to Arica these past few years, but his recent frequent visits spoke volus. If I hadn’t set my sights on Skylake District, Nestling Crest Bay might have remained untouched for who knows how long.
Everything he’d done was for . This realization flooded my heart with warmth.
"Ms. Shaw, currently no one besides you knows that Nestling Crest Bay belongs to Mr. Murphy. Please keep this confidential for now," Peter reminded quietly.
"Of course," I responded softly. I wasn’t stupid—if others discovered this, Skyview City’s business landscape would likely reshuffle completely. It ant Marcus’s business empire had quietly taken root in Skyview City.
Dostic and international ventures-no wonder he was always so busy.
A thought crossed my mind: if I hadn’t been smart enough to figure it out, was he planning to never tell ?
Then again, it’s not like others weren’t intelligent. Everyone else just knew Marcus had purchased a fringe property to build a mansion; they couldn’t possibly imagine he’d also bought Nestling Crest Bay. If Marcus hadn’t specifically ntioned Nestling Crest Bay to , I wouldn’t have made these connections either.
My heart suddenly felt stuffed with cotton—full and soft-as a feeling of being treasured quietly spread within .
Arriving at Golden Oak Manor, Peter got out and personally opened my door. "Ms. Shaw, Mr. Griffin and Mr. Porter have already arrived."
I was puzzled, not understanding what ga Marcus was playing by inviting Samuel Griffin and Logan Porter. With questions swirling in my mind, I stepped into the spacious hall.
Anna’s POV
Several n were indeed seated in the vast room. My high heels clicked against the marble floor, the crisp sound causing the n to turn their heads in my direction. To my surprise, Jack Simpson was among them.
"Marcus invited Anna too?" Oscar remarked with a teasing tone. "Are we being treated to a feast?"
Marcus motioned toward him: "Sit over here." The seat beside him, closest to him, was vacant.
I noticed Jack and Logan’s expressions simultaneously darkening, displeasure flashing in their eyes. This subtle change didn’t escape my notice, but I chose to ignore it, walking directly to the seat beside Marcus.
"Uncle Marcus, why have you called us here?" I asked softly, trying to mask my curiosity and nervousness.
Marcus answered briefly: "Business."
As servers began bringing tea, Samuel quipped, "If Ms. Shaw hadn’t co, we four wouldn’t even get tea."
I had no response. With both arms still immobile, drinking tea presented a challenge. As I privately contemplated this, a server positioned himself next to with a tray, the teacup thoughtfully containing a straw.
This special treatnt stirred sothing in . The delicate aroma of green tea—my favorite-wafted toward . I smiled at the server, "T’ve switched to plain water recently.
Would you mind bringing that instead?"
The server imdiately exchanged it for water, again thoughtfully including a straw. This ticulous attention ward , though it also made sowhat uncomfortable, especially under everyone’s watchful eyes.
Just then, Peter shoved a man into the room. The man wore a hotel security uniform, his hands bound behind him, head hanging low. Peter threw him down in front of us.
Recognizing the familiar security uniform, my heart jumped: "Uncle Marcus, is this...?"
The man on the floor struggled to his knees and, surprisingly, crawled toward Logan and Oscar. The Porter brothers exchanged bewildered glances, clearly confused by this turn of events.
Peter stepped forward and ripped the tape from the man’s mouth. He imdiately let out an agonized cry, "Mr. Oscar Porter, help !"
The security guard’s desperate plea to Oscar Porter sent an electric current through the room. My heart hamred against my ribs as I watched the scene unfold with surgical precision, each detail etching itself into my mory. Winter sunlight streaming through massive windows, suddenly felt like a stage where a particularly vicious play was about to reach its climax.
Peter lood over him, his presence commanding and threatening. "Tell them exactly what you told last night. Every detail."
Carl’s eyes darted wildly around the room before fixing on Oscar’s stunned face. "I was paid to tamper with the railing at the Porter estate. The person who hired claid to represent the Porter family."
I maintained a mask of calm, though my stomach twisted itself into painful knots. The security guard’s words hung in the air like poison gas, slowly suffocating everyone in the room.
That’s absurd!" Oscar leapt to his feet, face flushed with indignation. He rushed to my side, dropping to one knee beside my chair. "Anna, you can’t possibly believe this. Why would I ever want to hurt you?"
I studied his face-the genuine horror, the pleading in his eyes. In my heart, I already knew Oscar was innocent.
We’d grown up together, shared secrets, stood by each other through our darkest monts. Yet I forced myself to remain objective, to consider all possibilities.
"I don’t have proof," Carl whispered, his voice cracking. "I never saw the person’s face. I just got a call, and money was wired to my account."
Logan stepped forward, his one good arm gesturing emphatically. "This is ridiculous! You’re accusing my family based on the word of a criminal?"
The tension in the room thickened. I exchanged a subtle glance with Marcus, whose expression remained unreadable to everyone but . I understood imdiately what needed to happen next.
"Jack, Samuel," I said calmly, "perhaps you should both leave now. This appears to be a matter involving the Porter family."
Jack’s brow furrowed. "You’re asking us to leave? Just when things are getting interesting?"
"This isn’t a spectacle for your entertainnt," Marcus stated flatly.
Samuel rose with that predictable fake smile of his. "Of course. Family matters should be handled privately." His eyes lingered on a mont too long, calculating and curious.
The door closed behind them, and the atmosphere in the room beca suffocating. I turned my gaze directly to Logan, who still stood protectively near his brother.
"Logan," I said, my voice unnervingly steady even to my own ears. "Is there sothing you’d like to tell us?"
He adjusted his glasses nervously, forcing a smile. "Anna, Marcus hasn’t said anything. Why do you think it was ?"
My response was quiet but devastating.
"Wasn’t it?"
The silence stretched like a rubber band ready to snap. Then Logan’s facade crumbled, his shoulders sagging in defeat.
"Yes," he confessed, the word barely audible. "It was ."
Oscar’s face drained of color. He stumbled backward as if physically struck, collapsing into a nearby chair.
"Logan... what the hell are you saying?"
I fought to keep my face composed while my insides felt like they were being shredded. My throat burned with unshed tears, and my fingernails dug painfully into my palms.
"Why?" The question escaped my lips, hanging between us like a challenge.
Marcus remained silent beside , but I felt his presence like a physical support.
Carl remained on his knees, head bowed low, no longer the focus of attention now that the true culprit had confessed.
I looked at Logan—my childhood friend, the man who had saved my life only to reveal he’d been the one to endanger it-and asked the question that threatened to tear my heart in two:
"Why would you do this to ?"
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