Anna's POV
"Rachel, give him some new outfits," I added casually, glancing at Sean without much expression. "If he’s going to accompany me in public, he needs a proper formal suit. Make sure it’s tailored." I wasn’t planning to keep him around forever, but for now, he was under my roof, and I wouldn’t mistreat someone I’d brought in myself even if it had all been a mistake. Pulling a sleek black bank card from my purse, I held it out to Sean. He hesitated before accepting it with both hands. "This is for your living expenses. The password is written on the back. I’ve been busy lately, so you’ll have to arrange your schedule freely. But remember one thing stay clean. No trouble. Use this time to learn how to behave in society. There’s more to life than simply following orders." Without waiting for his response, I turned on my heels and left. I had an auction to attend. A significant one, in fact. It was whispered that several rare and priceless items would be featured tonight. The kind of event that drew the city’s most influential players like moths to a flame. Outside the venue, luxury cars rolled in one after another, their chrome reflections glinting beneath the chandelier-like streetlamps. Cameras flashed. The red carpet was already abuzz with reporters and stylists. The air was thick with money and perfume. “Ms. Shaw, the auction starts in twenty minutes,” Rachel reminded me, holding a sleek tablet in one hand. “Your private box is prepped.” I gave a short nod, smoothing down the folds of my midnight-blue gown. Everything was in place. Or so I thought until fate decided to slap me across the face. Coming down the stairs, all confident smiles and cloying charm, were Jack and Lucy Taylor. I stopped in my tracks, irritation prickling beneath my skin. Why here? Why now? Lucy was dressed in a tastelessly flashy gown, diamonds glittering like a chandelier had exploded across her chest. Her fake smile was practically carved into her cheeks. Typical. Jack, however, had the audacity to speak first, his voice thick with sarcasm. “Well, what a surprise,” he drawled. “Shouldn’t you be at Olympus Club tonight?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Shouldn’t you be busy trying to fix the mess at Phoenix Corp? Or are you too preoccupied babysitting your gold-digger?” His face darkened instantly. “You didn’t deny it. So it’s true you went to that kind of place? You slept with a man there? How could you, Anna? Do you have no shame?” Before I could respond, his grip clamped down hard on my arm, the sting immediate. He had no right. I ground my heel into the top of his foot, hard enough to make him flinch, and spat, “You lost the right to lecture me the moment you slept with Lucy while still married to me. I was already divorced when I went. You, on the other hand, were cheating while I was still wearing your ring.” Gasps echoed around us. A few phones went up, recording. I didn’t care. This was our mess, and he had chosen to drag it into the public eye. Without another word, I swept past them, Rachel following quickly behind. As the velvet doors closed behind us, a small, satisfied smile tugged at my lips. Petty, but satisfying. Inside, my private VIP box overlooked the auction floor through one-way glass. The seats were plush leather, and the lighting was dim and luxurious. Rachel took her place beside me and pulled up the catalog. “The sapphire bracelet is first. It would be a perfect gift for Margaret’s birthday.” I nodded, barely listening. My eyes had already scanned ahead to Lot 47. A mansion in the old Cin Skylake District. My mother’s childhood home. A wave of emotion washed over me nostalgia, longing, determination. That house was more than property. It was legacy. My legacy. The auction began. A parade of glittering art, antique watches, and absurdly priced jewelry passed by. Jack, ever the peacock, won a pearl necklace for Lucy at five million dollars. She kissed him like she was in a soap opera. How tasteless can one couple be? Then came the sapphire bracelet. I raised my paddle, expecting a smooth acquisition. But Jack’s paddle went up too. Again. And again. This was deliberate. He knew it was for Margaret. He was trying to spite me. “Fifteen million,” Rachel whispered, watching me. “Twenty,” I said clearly. My voice didn’t waver. A hush fell over the room. Jack didn’t bid again. “Sold to Ms. Shaw!” A ripple of applause. I smiled faintly. One win. But the real battle was only just beginning. Lot 47 appeared on screen. The Cin Skylake mansion. My pulse quickened. “Ms. Shaw,” Rachel murmured, tense. “What if Mr. Simpson tries to sabotage this too?” I sipped my tea calmly. “He might. But the price on this mansion won’t be cheap. He’s petty, but not stupid. It’s not even useful to him.” I had barely finished speaking when Jack’s voice rang out from the neighboring box. “Fifty million.” My breath caught. He was that petty. My hands clenched into fists, nails biting into my skin. Rachel turned red with fury. “He’s insane! Why must he take everything you want?” I inhaled slowly. “Don’t panic.” Raising my paddle, I said evenly, “Seventy million.” A second later, Jack countered. “Eighty million.” Rachel leaned in. “That’s above our planned cap.” “I know. But this isn’t just real estate. It’s my mother’s home.” Just as I was about to raise my paddle again, a voice cut through the air. “Two hundred million.” It came from the VIP box beside mine. The entire auction house fell silent. No name. No face. Just a voice. Smooth. Male. Powerful. Neither Jack nor I raised our paddles again. We couldn’t. Jack stormed out with Lucy in a huff, and I watched them go with mixed feelings. The mansion was gone for now but at least Jack didn’t get it either. I turned to Rachel. “Find out who that bidder was. I want a name, a face. Everything.” Just as I stood to leave, the next item flashed on screen. A small wooden rabbit carving. Simple. Plain. Yet something about it tugged at my memory. “Final item of the night,” the auctioneer announced. “A personal piece. Starting bid: one million.” No one raised a paddle. One minute passed. Two. Three. Then, almost without thinking, I raised mine. I bolted as soon as the auction ended, heels clicking against the marble floors. I had to see who was in that box. But by the time I reached it, it was already empty. All I saw was the back of a tall figure disappearing around a corner, long strides, expensive coat. I took a step forward to follow when Jack’s voice cut through the hallway like a blade. “Why?” he growled, storming toward me. “Why do you always have to fight me on everything?” I turned slowly to face him, my expression unreadable. The night was far from over.Anna's POVAfter everyone left, I turned to Marcus with a small, grateful smile. “I owe you dinner, at the very least. Are you free tonight?”His gaze held mine, steady and unreadable. “I am.”Le Ciel was the sort of place that required booking months in advance, but the maître d’ nearly stumbled over himself when Marcus arrived. Within minutes, we were escorted to a private dining room overlooking Skyview City's glittering skyline.“Uncle Marcus,” I began once we had ordered, my tone sincere, “I can’t thank you enough for today. Without your intervention, Shaw Corp and Simpson Group would’ve imploded.”He sat comfortably across from me, his presence calm but commanding every inch the man who didn’t need to raise his voice to dominate a room.“You gave away too much,” he said. “Two percent profit share? That’s not a small concession.”I shook my head, oddly at peace despite the numbers. “You actually helped me more than you realize. I was prepared to walk away from Phoenix altogether.
Lucy's POV My heart stopped the moment Anna’s words cut through the room like a blade: “Then we terminate our partnership.” The floor tilted beneath me, panic surging like a tidal wave up my throat. No, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Anna Shaw was meant to crack under pressure not flip the entire damn table. She’s bluffing, I told myself, clinging to the hope like a lifeline. She has to be bluffing. The Phoenix Project was a guaranteed win. No sane executive would walk away from a goldmine over some glorified escort. But the look in Anna’s eyes wasn’t the look of someone bluffing. It was cold. Unflinching. Calculated. I forced a calm expression onto my face, though my mind spiraled through the implications. Without Phoenix, I’d lose everything my position, my leverage. My title as General Manager wasn’t just a job; it was my legitimacy in the eyes of the Simpson family. Months of carefully cultivated goodwill with Mary Simpson would vanish. All that effort to position
Anna’s POVI woke the next morning feeling like I'd been hit by a truck. Every muscle in my body ached, screaming in protest with even the slightest movement.Rachel stood beside the bed, her face pale and stricken as she clutched a shopping bag. My dress from last night was crumpled in the trash like a discarded rag, far from the elegant designer piece it once was.I pulled back the covers and stared at myself in horror. Bruises and marks painted across my skin like some twisted souvenir."What the hell...?""I'm so sorry, Ms. Shaw," Rachel said, her voice thick with guilt. "This is my fault. I shouldn’t have left you alone, even to pay the bill. I—"“It’s not your fault,” I interrupted firmly, tossing the covers aside and standing despite the pain. “Was it him again?”Rachel’s eyes widened at the sight of my body. She quickly handed me a robe. “Most likely. I looked everywhere for you every hotel near the bar. I was about to call the police when someone sent me your hotel and room n
Anna’s POVThe dim lighting of the upscale bar couldn't mask my misery as I signaled the bartender for another drink. My third? Fourth? I'd lost count. The smooth jazz playing in the background felt like it was mocking my inner turmoil."Ms. Shaw, perhaps we should consider heading back," Rachel suggested from her position beside me, her voice carefully professional despite the concern in her eyes.I ignored her, downing the amber liquid in one swift motion. The burn in my throat was a welcome distraction from the inferno of anger and hurt blazing inside me. This wasn't my usual style Anna Shaw didn't drink herself into oblivion in public. But tonight was different."Another," I demanded, sliding the empty glass forward.Rachel frowned but didn't argue. She'd been with me long enough to know when to push and when to stand back.Tonight, her job was simple: keep the vultures away while I nursed my wounds with expensive whiskey.This was the second time I looked like this. The first was
Anna’s POV“Ms. Shaw, the Simpsons have requested your presence at their residence immediately.”The message flashed across my phone screen, stark and direct.I stared at it for a few seconds, thumb hovering over the screen. I could feel the slow curl of irritation wrapping around my chest. Then I typed my reply with clipped precision:“I’ll be there in an hour.”From across the room, Rachel looked up from her laptop, brows furrowing in concern. “You’re actually going?”“Know your enemy,” I said coolly, gathering my coat and phone. “And right now, the Simpsons are definitely the enemy.”The drive to the Simpson estate felt longer than usual, each minute dragged down by the weight of anticipation. As my car rolled past the towering wrought iron gates and crunched over the gravel driveway, I spotted Lucy’s sleek black sedan parked right at the entrance. Front and center.Not just a coincidence.A declaration.She was staking her claim.Inside, the grand foyer was flooded with warm after
Anna’s POVThe screen on my phone lit up, and I immediately felt the pull of dread tighten in my chest.Joint Phoenix Project Meeting 9:00 AM TomorrowLocation: Simpson HQ – Boardroom BI stared at it for a few seconds, my jaw clenching. No warning. No discussion. Just a forced summons with barely twelve hours’ notice.Typical Jack.I didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t even bother hiding the cold fury creeping beneath my skin. Not this time.“Daniel. Rachel.” My voice sliced through the quiet of my office. “Clear your schedules. You’re coming with me to the Phoenix meeting.”Rachel appeared in the doorway almost instantly, heels clicking against the polished floor. She already had her tablet in hand. “Just the three of us? What about Sean and the rest of the technical team?”My eyes never left the glowing screen. “Exactly what they want. If we show up with our full team, they’ll spin it as formal mediation.”She hesitated. “And this isn’t mediation?”“No,” I said flatly, finally setti