LOGIN"No, please," I laughed, shaking my head. "If you send more people, I won't even be allowed to lift my own spoon at mealtimes." Catherine bounded over, champagne flute in hand. "Grandpa, if Anna doesn't want the extra help, I'll take it! Id love someone to feed me grapes all day." Layla shot her daughter a reproving look. "Be quiet before you give your brother any ideas." The warmth in the room was palpable, wrapping around me like a protective blanket. These people had become my family in ways I'd never anticipated. The thought brought a lump to my throat—a mix of gratitude and something like longing. Just as William was regaling us with stories of Catherine's childhood antics, the elderly butler appeared at the doorway, his expression unusually tense. "Sir," he said, his voice carefully measured. "Miss Mary has returned." Mary's POV My knuckles turned white as I gripped the custom-made bag in my hands, staring up at the imposing facade of Murphy Estate. The ancestr
Anna's POV The morning sunlight streamed through the bay windows as Catherine leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You won't believe what's happening at the Simpson house." I raised an eyebrow, cradling my herbal tea while trying to find a comfortable position on the plush sofa. At eight months pregnant with twins, comfort was becoming an increasingly foreign concept. "What now?" Mom asked, settling beside me with uncharacteristic eagerness. Ever since the incident at George's secret mansion, she'd developed a rather vindictive interest in Simpson family drama. Catherine's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Two women showed up at their doorstep yesterday, claiming George ruined their lives, stole their family fortunes, and-get this-maintained intimate relationships with them behind Mary's back for years." I nearly choked on my tea. "Seriously?" 'The women are threatening to sue," Catherine continued, popping a grape into her mouth. "And they're n
Anna's POV Morning sunlight streamed through the windows as I sipped my breakfast tea, Catherine's animated face filling my phone screen. Her enthusiasm for my budding relationship with Marcus had been relentless since the scandal at George's secret mansion. "You're awfully invested in this," I teased, setting down my cup. "Hoping for an extra wedding gift or something?" Catherine rolled her eyes dramatically. "Mary's practically foaming at the mouth over you two. I just want to see you married immediately so she can choke on her own bile." Her gleeful expression made it clear this wasn't entirely a joke. After ending the call, I caught Elizabeth and Margaret exchanging meaningful glances across the table. "Poor Catherine," Elizabeth sighed, absently stirring her tea. "Did you know she was once inseparable from that boyfriend of hers? If Mary hadn't interfered, Catherine might be married with children by now." Margaret nodded solemnly. "She wasn't always so... rebellious
Anna's POV The hospital's fluorescent lights cast a harsh glow over Sean's pale face. His head was swathed in white bandages, a stark contrast against the dark bruise spreading from beneath them. Despite his injuries, his eyes focused on me with an intensity that made me uncomfortable. "Ms. Shaw, why are you still here? You should go home and rest. I'm fine," Sean urged, his voice carrying more anxiety than pain. His eyes kept prompting me toward the door, as if my pregnant presence in the sterile room was somehow more concerning than his own head injury. Beside me, Marcus stood silently observing Sean's face. I caught his brief, assessing glance, but Sean seemed oblivious to it, his attention locked entirely on me. "I'm not tired," I smiled, trying to ease his tension. "All I did today was eat, drink, and sleep. I barely moved." It was true-George Simpson's forced hospitality had involved a lot of sitting around in luxurious rooms. The doctor had confirmed Sean needed sever
Mary's POV My gaze darted between George's reddening cheek and the sickening sight of Marcus's arm wrapped protectively around Anna Shaw's pregnant body. The words still echoed in my ears. "Yes, they're mine." Marcus—my brother-claiming those twins growing inside her. My stomach twisted into knots of rage and betrayal. Anna Shaw? This nobody whose family we'd graciously allowed into our social circles? She'd somehow bewitched my brother and was now carrying Murphy heirs? The crystal vase on the side table caught my eye. Before I could fully process my actions, my fingers closed around its cold, heavy base. "Mom, what are you doing?" Jack's voice sounded distant, as if underwater. I barely registered Anna turning toward us, her face shifting from triumph to alarm. Marcus attempted to shield her, but before he could fully protect her, another figure rushed forward-Sean Smith, throwing himself directly into the path of my rage. *Crash!* The vase shattered against his
Jack's POV I stood frozen in the doorway of the bedroom, my lungs refusing to function properly. This secret mansion -this temple to my father's deception was bad enough. The once-pristine room had been savaged. Shards of crystal vases glittered across imported carpet. Silk bedding lay torn from the king bed. Expensive artwork hung in tatters, and the unmistakable scent of a woman's perfumenot my mother's-lingered beneath the sharp sting of spilled alcohol. "Look at your father," Mother said beside me, gesturing toward the wreckage with a bitter laugh that didn't reach her eyes. "Quite the player, isn't he? Even puts you young men to shame." The words carried a forced lightness, but I heard the tremor beneath them. A toxic mixture of disappointment, rage, and shame flooded my chest, making it impossible to respond. The father Id spent my life trying to emulate, whose approval I'd desperately sought, had been nothing but a carefully constructed facade. I moved closer to M
Sierra's POV Too late, I realized I'd handed her ammunition. Jack's brow had furrowed. I, his expression darkening. "Jack, Anna must have her reasons," Lucy continued, her voice dripping with manufactured compassion. "We shouldn't judge her." The hypocrisy was too much. "Stop pretending, Lu
Marcus's POV I crouched down and yanked the rag from Doyle's mouth, maintaining a calculated distance. His response was predictable a glob of saliva launched in my direction. I sidestepped it with practiced ease, my expression unchanged while disgust and cold fury bubbled beneath the surface. P
Anna's POV The woman standing beside Catherine in our living room looked like she'd stepped out of a medical journal— crisp linen shirt tucked into tailored pants, not a single blonde hair out of place in her tight bun. Her posture screamed professional discipline. "Elizabeth, I heard you were
Anna's POV The dining room hummed with possibility. I surveyed the faces around me: Catherine with her characteristic intensity, Jasmine Butler's shrewd business acumen, Nora's newfound confidence, and Mason's barely contained excitement. "Ms. Shaw, the livestream numbers for Nora's tea present







