<h4>Chapter 44: Whispers at Olympus Club</h4>


    Anna’s POV


    I peered out the window of the Olympus Club’s third-floor rest room, assessing the situation. While we were undeniably high up, I noticed a decorative terrace jutting out between the first and second floors. That buffer might just make the jump survivable instead of suicidal. But I couldn’t possibly leap out wearing only a towel —that would create an even more impossible-to-exin scenario than being discovered with Jack.


    I turned back to find Jack still standing there, seemingly transfixed. His gaze lingered on my legs, an almost palpable heat that made my skin crawl with both anger and difort. The irony wasn’t lost on me-when we were married, he barely noticed me, but now that we were divorced, here he was, practically devouring me with his eyes.


    I snatched up my damp dress from the counter and shot him a re. "Turn around," Imanded, my voice sharp as ss.


    Jack blinked, as if emerging from a trance. "What for?"


    My patience, already hanging by a thread, snapped entirely. "What do you think? I’m changing. I can’t exactly jump out the window looking like this, can I?"


    The words came out in a hiss,ced with exasperation. Reality finally seemed to prate his brain. His eyes widened with genuine rm. "You’ll kill yourself jumping from this height!


    Is avoiding being seen with me worth risking your life?"


    "Yes," I answered without hesitation, my voice t and decisive. "I’d rather die than be caught with you."


    I shoved him hard, trying to force him to turn around, but he remained obstinate, rooted to the spot, his eyes filled with a messy cocktail of emotions I had no interest in deciphering.


    "Stop trying to do me any favors, Jack.


    Whatever was between us is long over.


    Anna Shaw doesn’t recycle her trash."


    The words poured out, my voice growing steadier with each syble, though the bitterness felt like acid climbing up my throat. "Yes, I once cared deeply for you, but so what? You and your family killed every feeling I had. Think of me as yourpetitor now, nothing more. Don’t bother with these meaningless gestures—I won’t appreciate them. Whatever tactics the Simpson family tries against me, I’ll face them head-on."


    I paused, meeting his gaze directly, forcing myself to suppress the ache that still sometimes surfaced when I thought about our failed marriage.


    "Jack Simpson, have some dignity.


    Don’t make me... lose what little respect I have left for you."


    His pupils contracted sharply, and for a fleeting moment, something unnameable passed between us— perhaps regret, perhaps eptance, perhaps simply the acknowledgment of an ending that had urred long ago.


    "You don’t have to jump," he said softly. "I will."


    His offer ignited a fresh spark of irritation. Thest thing I needed was his misced chivalry, and I certainly didn’t want to owe him anything, not when I’d worked so hard to sever all ties between us.


    "I don’t want to owe you anything," I spat, fixing him with a venomous re. "Turn around!"


    This time, Jackplied without argument. His shoulders slumped slightly as he faced the wall, his entire posture radiating a cold silence.


    I had just grabbed my dress, preparing to change, when voices suddenly sounded from the hallway outside.


    Multiple voices. My heart lurched. The situation had just be much more urgent. I would never have enough time to change now.


    My pulse elerated to a frantic rhythm, my breathing turning shallow.


    I swiftly dragged a chair to the window, kicked off my heels, and mbered onto the windowsill without a second thought.


    Only when I stood at the edge, the cold night air whipping around me, did I realize just how high up we truly were. The wind cut through the thin towel, raising goosebumps across my skin. Strangely, heights had never bothered me before, but now my legs trembled like they might give out beneath me. A wave of primal fear washed over me, turning my muscles to water.


    The parking lot behind Olympus Club stretched out below,pletely exposed. Anyone could look up at any moment. But what terrified me more were the voices growing ever closer in the hallway. There was no time left for second thoughts.


    I drew a deep breath, my mind offering a final pep talk: *Don’t be afraid, this is your only way out.* Those people would burst through the door any second. I had to act now.


    With onest desperate surge of resolve, I closed my eyes and leaped toward the terrace below.


    Jack’s POV


    I heard a faint rustling sound behind me and whipped around, my heart suddenly clutched in an invisible vise.


    The room was empty. Anna had vanished without a trace. A wave of anxiety and tension surged through me.


    *Damn it, where did she go?* I silently cursed, my eyes frantically scanning the room.


    A movement from the second-floor balcony caught my attention. I rushed over just in time to see Anna getting to her feet, hesitating for only a heartbeat before leaping from the ledge.


    But I had no time to process what I’d just witnessed. Footsteps approached from the hallway, growing louder by the second,pelling me into action.


    I quickly closed the window and moved the chair back to its original position, my heart racing with each hurried movement. I tried to appearposed, but my slightly trembling fingers betrayed my inner turmoil.


    Drawing a deep breath, I steeled myself and walked toward the door.


    My mind raced, calcting how to handle whoever was about to walk in.


    When I reached for the door handle, it turned easily under my grip.


    *Strange, it opens now?* My internal rm bells rang loudly. The door that had trapped us moments ago was suddenly unlocked. Why? A sense of being manipted crawled under my skin, making me deeply ufortable.


    The door swung open, and I found myself face-to-face with a small crowd.


    Several women stood there, apparently guided specifically to this location.


    Among them, I was surprised to see Lucy Taylor’s face.


    Lucy wore an innocent smile,pletely oblivious to being used as a pawn. "Jack, we were justing to hang out. What are you doing in here?" she asked.


    Her question tightened something in my chest, but I quickly adjusted my expression, fabricating a usible excuse: "I had a bit too much to drink and needed to clear my head." My voice remained steady, carefully masking the turbulence I felt within.


    Just then, I noticed Rachel hovering at the edge of the group-she must have returned with clothes for Anna. When she saw me emerging from the rest room, she froze momentarily, then appeared to realize what had happened and quickly turned to leave.


    "Please, go ahead," I said, stepping aside with a neutral tone, as if everything was perfectly normal. In reality, every nerve in my body was stretched taut, my gaze sharply surveying the surroundings, searching for anything or anyone suspicious.


    As the chattering women entered the rest room, I scanned the area, confirming there was no one suspicious watching. The immediate danger had passed, but an unsettling feeling of being calcted against, of being watched, lingered like a shadow in my mind.


    Anna’s POV


    The wind rushed past me as I fell, my heart thundering in my chest. I’d braced myself for the inevitable painful impact, eyes squeezed shut, when suddenly I felt myself collide with something solid yet yielding. Not concrete, but arms-strong arms that caught me with such force that the air was knocked from my lungs.


    I finally dared to open my eyes, and found myself staring at a perfect jawline, then into Marcus Murphy’s bottomless dark eyes. A strange flutter of excitement rose in my chest.


    "Uncle Marcus?" I asked tentatively, unable to hide the relief and unexpected joy in my voice. "Did you catch me? I already hurt my arm jumping from the third floor to the second-floor terrace—if it weren’t for you, I would’ve been much worse off."


    Marcus’s face was ashen, his expression hard as stone as he stared down at me. I couldn’t read what was hidden in that gaze, but I could feel the anger radiating from him. His silence was more intimidating than any words could have been.


    Only when Peter Reed approached with a coat to drape over me did I suddenly realize my predicament—I was wearing nothing but a towel! Oh God, had it slipped during my fall?


    The thought was mortifying. I could only console myself with the fact that it was dark; surely he hadn’t seen anything clearly.


    I instinctively curled deeper into Marcus’s arms, with just one thought: this was absolutely humiliating.


    Marcus carried me to his waiting car, his grip firm but careful around my towel-d body. As he gently ced me in the backseat, Rachel appeared, breathless and clutching a bag.


    "Ms. Shaw! Thank goodness you’re alright," she eximed, sliding in beside me. "I have your clothes."


    As Rachel helped me change in the rtive privacy of the car’s tinted windows, we discussed what had happened.


    "Ms. Shaw, I saw several women heading toward the restroom and immediately realized something might be wrong," Rachel exined while helping me into my blouse. "Those women aren’t prominent in Skyview City’s social circles, and I noticed Lucy Taylor was among them. But when I saw Mr. Simpson emerge from the room, I had the feeling this might not be Ms. Taylor’s doing. She wouldn’t set such an obvious trap."


    I nodded, analyzing the situation coolly despite my physical difort.


    "You’re right. It doesn’t seem like her style. If my suspicions are correct, whoever nned this incident is likely the same person who stabbed Uncle Marcus."


    "What would they hope to aplish?" Rachel asked, confusion evident in her voice.


    I gave a bitter smile. "To create conflict between Jack and Marcus." I shook my head with self-deprecating humor.


    "Apparently, my allure is excessive enough to warrant such borate schemes."


    Rachel responded immediately: "You are indeed the most exceptional woman in Skyview City."


    After changing into proper clothes, I stepped out of the car to see Marcus standing a short distance away, his back to us. The ck shirt he wore entuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist, his posture impably straight. If he weren’t Marcus Murphy, I would definitely have snapped a photo to send to Catherine.


    "Uncle Marcus, thank you so much for earlier," I said, approaching him. "If not for you, I could have been seriously injured." I suddenly realized I was constantly thanking him, umting a debt of gratitude that grew heavier by the day.


    Marcus turned to face me, his expression still cold with anger, apparently too upset to speak. His intense stare made me ufortable, but I pushed forward. "Uncle Marcus, I... need to get back to the party."


    At that moment, Rachel gasped. "Ms. Shaw, your arm is injured... and your back as well..."


    Marcus’s gaze immediately dropped to my injuries. I’d felt the burning pain already but hadn’t dared to look— afraid it would only increase my anxiety.


    "It probably looks worse than it is just some scrapes. It doesn’t hurt much," I lied, forcing a smile for Marcus while my fingers trembled uncontrobly.


    Marcus studied me critically. "Are you sure you want to go back?"


    I gritted my teeth with determination.


    "Uncle Marcus, I believe the person behind your attack is inside Olympus Club right now. I need to return and find out, otherwise this jump was for nothing."


    Peter quickly retrieved a first aid kit from the car. When the alcohol touched my wounds, I nearly jumped from the seat. I clenched my fists tightly, my face contorting in pain. Just as I was about to cry out, I felt a firm pressure around my waist, and my head was pulled against a solid chest.


    Marcus’srge hand steadied the back of my head, as it cing me in a safe space that shielded me from pain and fear. My heart raced wildly. Logic told me I should push him away, but I found myself craving this warmth and security.


    When injured, having someone to lean on made me want to linger just a little longer.


    Once the bandaging wasplete, I reluctantly pulled away from Marcus’s embrace, forcing a smile. "It really doesn’t hurt that much. I can manage."


    Marcus took his jacket and personally draped it over my shoulders. "Let’s go," he said simply.


    "T’lle with you," he added.


    I didn’t immediately process what he meant. "Uncle Marcus..." I hadn’t invited him.


    Marcus looked at me, his expression stern. "Why else do you think I came all this way?"


    "Uncle Marcus..." A wave of emotion rose in my chest, difficult to suppress.


    At Simpson family dinners, George Simpson took charge while Jack merely needed to attend and assist. But me? I stood alone. Having someone willing to stand beside me, to face challenges together-of course I was grateful. But this was Marcus Murphy, who had no obligation to involve himself in these matters.


    "That’s not necessary, Uncle Marcus. I can handle it," I refused.


    But Marcus was already striding toward Olympus Club, giving me no opportunity to object. Helpless, I hurried after him.


    Our return to the party together sparked immediate surprise and gossip. I knew exactly what people were saying—a woman freshly divorced from Jack Simpson, already so close to his uncle. The implications were obvious and ugly.


    I could hear the whispers: "Why is Marcus Murphy here?"


    "I heard Mr. Murphy bought that historic building everyone was bidding on at the charity auction and just gave it to Anna Shaw—is that true?"


    "It must be true, look at them-their rtionship is definitely unusual."


    "Anna Shaw is so clever, dumping the nephew and immediately snagging the uncle, such calcted moves."


    "I can’t believe Mr. Murphy would be interested in a divorced woman, it’s inconceivable."