Mag-log inRachel's POV The bitter November wind sliced through my wool coat as I sprinted across the airport terminal, scanning each passing family for signs of an infant. My eyes burned from exhaustion after twenty straight hours without sleep, but the thought of stopping never crossed my mind. Not when Benedict was still missing. 'Terminal C is clear," I reported into my phone, my voice raspy from overuse. "Any updates from the train station?" "Nothing," Clayton replied, his typically composed tone now ragged with frustration. "Oscar and I have checked every passenger three times over. These people think we're insane." I leaned against a pillar, watching Jack Simpson approach from the airport's west wing. The bags under his eyes had deepened to bruise-like shadows, and his expensive coat hung wrinkled and askew. I never thought I'd see the day when I felt sympathy for a Simpson. "You should rest," I told him, though I knew neither of us would. Jack shook his head, his gaze distant. "I
Jack's POV The steering wheel felt cold beneath my clenched fingers as I pulled up to the Simpson family's western estate. My heart hammered against my ribs while bitter November wind cut through my coat the moment I stepped outside. The property's security lights cast harsh shadows across the manicured grounds, turning the familiar landscape into something sinister. "Mr. Simpson," the housekeeper's eyes widened as she opened the door. "We weren't expecting you tonight." "I need information," I said, brushing past her into the warmth of the foyer. "Has there been a blond foreign man staying here recently?" Her hesitation told me everything before she even spoke. "Yes, sir. A Mr. Doyle. He's been here for several days, but left this morning and hasn't returned." _Doyle_. The name landed like a stone in my stomach. I barely thanked her before rushing back to my car. This confirmed it—my father had collaborated with Marcus Murphy's enemy from Europe. The pieces fell into pl
Jack's POV I bolted out the front door of Simpson mansion, my lungs burning as the frigid November air hit my throat. Anna was just reaching the iron gates, her figure silhouetted against the twilight sky. "Anna, wait!" I called, my voice sounding pathetically desperate even to my own ears. "Let me help you find him." She turned, her eyes meeting mine for the briefest moment. In that split second, I saw nothing but ice -all warmth that had once been reserved for me now extinguished completely. "Not necessary," she replied, her voice flat and empty. No hesitation, no consideration. She slid into the waiting car without a backward glance. I stood frozen as her car pulled away, my chest constricting with a pain that felt almost physical. Was this really all that remained of our relationship? The couple who had once shared everything, now couldn't share even a moment of basic humanity. Without thinking, I hurried back to my car and followed her at a distance. Skyview City
George's POV I was buried in financial reports when Pax knocked on my study door. "Mr. Simpson, Ms. Shaw is here to see you." His voice carried an unusual tension. My fountain pen froze mid-signature. Anna Shaw? Here? The woman had given birth days ago and should be confined to a hospital bed. Something was terribly wrong. By the time I descended to our grand living room, Mary was already glaring daggers at Anna. Jack stood awkwardly by the fireplace, his expression a mixture of concern and shame. Lucy hovered near Mary, playing the considerate daughter-in-law by offering Anna hot water. Anna had removed her heavy winter coat despite the November chill outside. Her face was ghostly pale, but those eyes... they burned with a cold fire that made my skin prickle. Rachel and Sean Smith flanked her like bodyguards. "Mr. Simpson," Anna began without preamble, "I’Il be direct. I'm here to make a business proposition." I arranged my features into a mask of mild curiosity. "Bus
Jack's POV I stood before my father in his study, my heart clenched like it was caught in a vise. The expensive leather-bound books lining the walls and the desk between us seemed to mock the ugliness of our conversation. "I just want to know one thing," I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. "Does Anna's baby's kidnapping have anything to do with you?" Father slammed his pen holder against the desk. The sharp crack echoed through the room as his eyes flashed with that imperious authority I'd grown to resent. "For Anna Shaw, you fight with your mother and now with me? Is there nothing in that head of yours except Anna Shaw?" His voice was dangerously low. Each word hammered against my chest. I didn't care how terrible I looked at that moment-I needed to know. "I just want to know if Anna's baby's kidnapping has anything to do with you," I repeated, my voice trembling with suppressed rage. Father exploded. "What if it does? What if it doesn't? When will you grow
Mary's POV I stretched my legs across the sofa, wincing as the movement tugged at my bruised arm. That Elizabeth Shaw had more strength than I'd ever given her credit for. The scratches on my face stung, a constant reminder of my humiliation at the hospital. My attention snapped to the foyer as the front door opened. George strode in with Pax Powell trailing behind him like some obedient lapdog. Neither spared me a glance as they headed straight for the staircase. "George," I called out, my voice sharper than intended. "The police came by today." He paused, one foot on the first step, and turned just enough to look at me over his shoulder. His expression could have frozen hell itself. "Perhaps I should be asking you that question." His gaze swept over my injured face, his lip curling in disgust. "Since you've managed to get yourselt mauled like some alley cat." The casual cruelty of his words struck like physical blows. After these years of marriage, this was what I'd be
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 l
I nearly dropped my phone, staring at those three simple words on the screen. My heart slammed against my ribs like it was trying to escape my chest. With trembling fingers, I hastily wrapped myself in my silk robe, not even bothering to call Lily for assistance. My damp hair clung to my neck a
Mary's POV My cheeks burned as Father's words cut through me like a serrated knife. How dare he scold me in front of everyone especially that insufferable Catherine? I straightened my silk blouse, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. "I'm only trying to uphold the standards of this f
Anna's POV Sunlight streamed through the hospital window, casting a warm glow across Lucius's pale face. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, the beeping monitors confirming what the doctors had told us—he'd survived the critical forty-eight hours. Relief washed over me like a gentle tide.







