MasukMary's POV My throat constricted under Marcus's iron grip, panic flooding my system as I clawed at his hand. This wasn't the reserved younger brother I remembered-this was a stranger with murder in his eyes. "If I ever hear those words from your mouth again, you won't have a voice to speak with," he whispered, each syllable dripping with venom. Humiliation burned through me like acid. Despite our distant relationship, we shared blood. Yet here he was, choosing some outsider over family. "You're threatening me? Marcus Murphy, you'd treat your own sister this way for some second-hand_" The rest of my sentence died as his fingers tightened, cutting off my airflow. "Who's the outsider here?" His voice dropped even lower. "Anna is the woman I'm going to spend my life with. She's my wife, my family." With a disgusted shove, he released me. I collapsed onto the imported Persian rug, gasping for air. My lungs burned with each desperate breath, but my pride ached worse than my brui
Marcus's POV The moment I stepped through the Murphy Estate's grand entrance with Steven trailing behind me, William's walking cane came down hard across my shoulder. Pain shot through my body, but I remained silent. This punishment, I deserved. "You ungrateful son," William roared, his weathered face contorted with rage. "Why return now? After all this time!" Each blow of his cane sent fresh waves of pain through my body, but I stood my ground without complaint. The ornate hallway that had witnessed countless Murphy family gatherings now bore witness to this reckoning. Before William could continue, the commotion drew Phillip and his family from the drawing room. Catherine rushed forward while Simon stared curiously at Steven. "Whoa, is this Uncle Marcus's illegitimate kid?" Simon blurted out, eyeing Steven with undisguised interest. Catherine immediately smacked the back of his head. "Shut your mouth before I do it for you." "Hey! Stop hitting my head," Simon complai
Anna's POV I stared at the screen of my phone, zooming in on Benedict's latest photo. The soft curve of his brow, the gentle slope of his nose I traced them with my fingertip, my heart aching with a familiar emptiness. "Annie, I keep telling you, these video calls don't do him justice," I said to Elizabeth, who was folding baby clothes nearby. "Don't you think he has Marcus's eyes? There's something about his expression that feels so familiar." Elizabeth leaned over, squinting at the screen. "That's genetics for you. But honestly, I see more of you in him. Those eyes are pure Shaw-just like yours were at that age." A pang of longing shot through my chest, sharp and insistent. The weeks since Benedict's kidnapping and recovery had crawled by at an excruciating pace. November was drawing to a close, and despite Marcus's promise to return for Thanksgiving, each day felt like an eternity. "I miss him so much it hurts," I whispered, more to myself than to Elizabeth. Margare
Catherine suddenly grew quiet, resting her chin on my desk, her expression turning serious. After a moment of silence, she looked up, her eyes betraying uncertainty. "Annie, there's something I need to tell you." I was reviewing some documents and responded without looking up. "Go ahead." "I had some tests done," she said, her tone unusually grave. This immediately caught my attention. I set down my papers and leaned forward with concern. "What kind of tests? Are you feeling alright?" Catherine shrugged, trying to appear casual despite her obvious discomfort. "Nothing serious. Just had an ultrasound done. And it confirmed something - the scar on my abdomen isn't from an appendectomy like I've always been told. Just like yours, it's from a C-section." My heart skipped a beat, and I stared at her in disbelief. "Are you sure about this?" How could I be wrong? I confirmed it multiple times. The ultrasound technician even pointed out scarring on my uterus." Her voice was st
George's POV The antiseptic smell of the hospital room clawed at my nostrils, making each breath a reminder of my confinement. Sunlight streamed through the window, mocking me with its cheerfulness while my world collapsed around me. The morning nurse had just left after changing my IV when Pax delivered the news that felt like a second heart attack. "Mr. Simpson, Jack has resigned from Simpson Group. He's... he's left town." The words hit me like physical blows. My son. My only son. Gone. I stared at the ceiling, not trusting myself to speak. The betrayal cut deeper than the pneumonia that had ravaged my lungs, deeper than the hypothermia that had nearly killed me. I'd built everything for him—the empire, the connections, the legacy. And he'd thrown it all away. The door to my private room burst open with such force that the decorative vase on the side table rattled. Mary stormed in, her usually immaculate appearance disheveled, eyes wild with a fury I hadn't seen in y
Mary's POV The kitchen smelled of rosemary and thyme as I supervised the final preparations for dinner. Lucy moved around the space with effortless grace, checking the roast and adjusting the table settings with meticulous attention to detail. "Mrs. Simpson, do you think we should use the Waterford crystal tonight?" she asked, holding up one of the delicate glasses to the light. "I noticed Jack seemed particularly tired these past few days. A nice setting might lift his spirits." "Excellent idea, Lucy. Jack needs the comforts of home right now," I replied, watching her set the table with practiced precision. "You remind me so much of myself at your age." Lucy lowered her eyes modestly. "That's the highest compliment, Mrs. Simpson." The front door clicked open, and Lucy's head snapped up. She immediately abandoned her task and glided toward the foyer. I smiled to myself. *Perfect instincts*. "Jack! You're finally home." Lucy's voice carried that perfect note of concern wi
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 William Murphy had insisted I sit beside him at the head table rather than join my mother at her assigned seating. This special treatment wasn't lost on anyone present. "This child needs proper nutrition. She must eat more," William announced, gesturing to a server. "Don't make her f
Anna's POV I arrived at Murphy Estate just as the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the manicured gardens. The sprawling mansion with its imposing facade looked quieter than usual-the winter chill had driven even the most dedicated groundskeepers indoors. Walking past the empty gazebo, I f
Anna's POV Fifteen days of physical therapy had finally paid off. My shoulders no longer screamed in protest with every movement, and I could button my own blouse without wincing. I checked my watch—7:45 PM. Kieran Green was already forty-five minutes late to our dinner meeting. The luxurious p







