บททั้งหมดของ One Night Stand With My Ex’s Uncle : บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

Rachel’s POVBy the time we arrived at Rosa Villa, Marcus's breathing had grown more labored, and Anna's composed facade was beginning to crack around the edges. I parked as close to the entrance as possible, then rushed to open the back door."I'll prepare a guest room," I said, hurrying ahead to unlock the door while Ms. Shaw helped Marcus from the car. His imposing height made the task difficult, but somehow she managed to support him as they slowly made their way inside.I moved quickly through the villa, selecting the room that had until recently been Sean's temporary quarters. It seemed the most appropriate clean, recently vacated, and on the ground floor, which would spare Mr. Murphy the effort of climbing stairs. I hastily changed the sheets and turned down the bed before rushing back to help.Anna was guiding Marcus down the hallway, his arm draped heavily across her shoulders. Despite the obvious strain, she refused my offer of assistance with a quick shake of her head."Unc

Anna's POV The sudden chime of Marcus's phone still echoed in my mind as I stared at him, momentarily frozen. My thoughts raced at impossible speed, trying to process what had just happened. It couldn't be the timing was too perfect, too coincidental. I'd just texted my mystery lover, and Marcus's phone had immediately chimed with a notification. I forced myself to take a breath, to think logically. The room felt suddenly airless, the soft lamplight that had seemed comforting moments ago now felt exposing. Marcus had picked up his phone casually, glancing at the screen with no particular reaction before setting it back down. Now he was answering another call, his voice low and measured despite his injury. "It's been handled," he said into the phone. "Peter will be here shortly." He ended the call and turned his attention back to me. I realized I'd been standing motionless, still processing the impossible thought that had flashed through my mind. Could Marcus Murphy possibly be

Jack's POV The moment I heard Marcus had been injured, something inside me snapped. It wasn't concern-not even close. Instead, a strange, almost feverish energy coursed through my veins as I instructed my driver to take me to Rosa Villa. The car pulled up to the gate, and I instructed the driver to wait. "I won't be long," I muttered, though I had no idea if that was true. As I walked up the curved driveway, the evening air felt unusually heavy. The gardens were immaculately maintained, soft lighting illuminating the carefully pruned trees and shrubs. And then I saw him. Marcus Murphy—my uncle, my mother's brother, the Murphy family golden boy-was sitting comfortably in the garden pavilion like he belonged there. Like he owned the place. He looked surprisingly at ease for someone who'd supposedly been injured. A book lay open in his lap, and he was sipping what appeared to be tea from one of Anna's finest china cups. My blood boiled. Had Rosa Villa become Anna's secret

Jack's POV I was nursing a drink in the study when my mother and Lucy burst through the front door of the Simpson mansion. Their faces were flushed, their gestures animated as they exchanged heated whispers. I knew instantly that the afternoon tea at Harper Watson's hadn't gone well. Mother spotted me and made a beeline in my direction, her eyes flashing with indignation. "Can you believe the nerve of that woman?" I didn't need to ask which woman she meant. There was only one who could ruffle my mother's feathers to this degree. "Anna?" I asked, setting down my glass. Mother collapsed into an armchair, her voice rising with each word. "She's deliberately positioning herself as the gatekeeper to Skylake District. Everyone was falling over themselves trying to secure her favor." She shot a withering glance at Lucy. "And you just stood there, letting her make a fool of you." Lucy's composure faltered. "I tried to put her in her place, but she turned my words against me." "You wer

Anna's POV The more he underestimated me, the more determined I became to pursue the Skylake District project. His condescension had only crystallized what I already knew:we were never meant to walk the same path. Back at the office the next morning, I found my mother had forwarded me a flurry of emails and texts. Just as I'd anticipated, invitations had been pouring in—all of them conspicuously addressed only to her and me. Some requested our presence for afternoon tea, others for dinner gatherings. One socialite from the arts circle had even sent show tickets. "Annie," my mother's voice was tentative when she called mid-morning, "I've never seen so many invitations. It's rather overwhelming." I smiled grimly. "The Shaw family suddenly has excellent social currency, it seems." "What should I do?" she asked. I replied. "I'll look through the list later and decide which ones are worth our time." After ending the call, I stared at the growing pile of invitations on my desk. The S