<h4>Chapter 57: Polished Venom</h4>


    Anna’s POV


    "Uncle Marcus, thank you for today," I said, working to keep my voice light.


    "What a coincidence that you showed up at the Simpson house. What brought you there?"


    Marcus’s eyes swept over me briefly, his expression as unreadable as ever. "Had some business," he replied tly.


    I mentally sighed. The man was the definition of concise-borderline taciturn. From the moment he’d entered the Simpson mansion to the moment we left, he’d done nothing except stand up for me.


    As if sensing my thoughts, Marcus unexpectedly borated. "Handled your situation. Forgot my own business. I’ll deal with itter."


    "Forgot?" I couldn’t hide my surprise.


    That seemed like an awfully flimsy excuse for someone as meticulous as Marcus Murphy. Watching him awkwardly examine his car’s interior, I wondered how he’d even managed to drive here in the first ce.


    "Uncle Marcus, how long are you nning to stay in America this time?" I ventured, thinking I should at least offer to take him to dinner as a thank you. I was racking up quite a debt of gratitude with this man.


    His response was immediate and cold.


    "Don’t worry. I didn’te back for you. I won’t be bothering you."


    A wave of embarrassment washed over me. I opened my mouth to exin, then thought better of it and swallowed my words. Thankfully, he smoothly changed the subject.


    "I’ll have someone handle Lucy. You don’t need to concern yourself with it."


    "That won’t be necessary, Uncle Marcus," I replied firmly. "I want to handle this myself."


    Marcus turned to look at me then, his gaze intense and prating.


    I offered a small smile. "You’re rted to the Simpsons, which puts you in an awkward position. Since Lucy and I need a final reckoning, I should be the one to handle it. Revenge is best served personally, don’t you think?"


    His eyes darkened slightly. "Fine," he conceded.


    When we reached the gates of Shaw Estate, I made a polite invitation.


    "Uncle Marcus, would you like toe in? My grandmother and mother would be delighted to see you."


    I could sense he wanted to ask me something, but ultimately he just said, "I have other matters to attend to.


    Don’t tell them I’m back."


    "Then when will you be free? I’d like to treat you to dinner," I offered sincerely.


    Marcus’s expression darkened slightly at my overly formal tone. "We’ll see," he replied, then promptly drove away, leaving me standing at the gates with a strange emptiness settling in my chest.


    "You’re home early?" My mother, Elizabeth, emerged from the direction of the greenhouse, still wearing her gardening gloves. Upon seeing me, she quickly removed them and hurried over.


    "I was in the neighborhood handling some business, thought I’d stop by," I improvised smoothly. "Where’s Grandmother?"


    "Margaret caught a chill yesterday.


    She’s taken her medicine and is resting now," my mother replied, concern evident in her voice.


    "A chill? Is it serious?" I asked, immediately rmed. I handed my purse to the waiting housekeeper and headed toward the stairs.


    Mother followed, her voice gentle but concerned. "The weather in Skyview City has been so unpredictabletely.


    One moment of carelessness and she caught cold. You should be careful too, Annie. Wear moreyers."


    I approached Margaret’s bedroom door and knocked gently. When there was no response, I carefully pushed it open. The curtains were drawn, bathing the room in a soft, golden light. My grandmother was sleeping peacefully in her bed, silver hair spread across the pillow.


    I didn’t disturb her, simply standing by the bedside silently watching her for a few minutes. Her breathing was steady, and herplexion showed no signs of serious illness. It appeared to be just amon cold. After confirming she wasn’t in any real danger, I quietly closed the door and left the room.


    When I returned downstairs, my mother was arranging flowers in a vase.


    "She’s asleep, so I didn’t disturb her," I said softly. "It doesn’t look serious, does it?"


    Mother nodded. "The doctor says it’s just a normal cold. She’ll be fine with a few days’ rest. You don’t need to worry too much."


    This reassured me considerably. After chatting with my mother about everyday matters for a while longer, I told her I had work to attend to and needed to leave.


    Rosa Vi felt different without Marcus’s presence. The rooms seemedrger, emptier somehow. I pushed the thought aside as I focused on the task at hand.


    The man Samuel Griffin had delivered to us was kneeling on the floor of the study, trembling visibly as Sean and Rachel stood guard on either side of him. His face was still swollen from whatever "persuasion" Samuel’s men had used, but the fear in his eyes was fresh and directed entirely at me.


    As soon as I entered, he prostrated himself. "Ms. Shaw, please spare me! I was just blinded by greed, Ms. Shaw.


    Jared paid me fifty thousand dors to set up more betting pools. It was all Jared Wood’s idea!"


    I looked down at him coldly. "How many did you set up?"


    "Just two," he blurted out nervously.


    "Mr. Griffin’s men caught me before I could set up any more."


    "I might be willing to spare you," I said calmly, "but you’ll need to give me a reason."


    His eyes darted around the room, calcting. "I know Jared’s secrets."


    "Talk."


    "Jared is in love with Lucy Taylor," he revealed, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "He even has wet dreams about her."


    I couldn’t help butugh at this revtion. So that’s why Jared had been willing to take such risks for Lucy—unrequited love, that most potent of motivators.


    "What else?" I pressed. "I’m a businesswoman. I need to see concrete, valuable information."


    Under ourbined pressure, he eventually spilled everything he knew about the Taylor family’s secrets. Neil Taylor, Lucy’s father, ran a constructionpany that consistently cut corners and used substandard materials while charging premium prices.


    "Ms. Shaw, they have a hospital project that’s about to be inspected," he added desperately. "The inpatient wing at Tranquil Hospital in the West District.


    The Taylors did all the interior work."


    Rachel’s eyes shed with indignation.


    "Boss, why don’t we give them a taste of their own medicine? Let the Simpson family know that Lucy and Jared are having an affair. Let her experience what it’s like to have her reputation smeared."


    I shook my head. "Lucy is fixated on marrying into wealth. She’d never risk that for Jared. At most, she’s exploiting his feelings to make him do her bidding." I tapped my fingers thoughtfully against the desk. "That approach would be pointless. Once Jack investigates and finds nothing, Lucy will just y the victim, cry in his arms, and all our efforts will be wasted. We need to target her real weakness."


    I epted the tea Sean had prepared and took a contemtive sip. After a moment of consideration, I turned to Rachel. "I want you to handle this.


    First, verify if this information is urate, then we’ll proceed ordingly."


    Sean looked at me with undisguised admiration. "Sometimes, Ms. Shaw, you make me feel inadequate. You’re younger than me, yet you handle situations with suchposure and wisdom. I’m learning a lot from you."


    I smiled at thepliment. "You should have seen me when I was at my lowest-bruised and battered. You joined me during a rtively good period. Rachel and Daniel had it much worse when they first started working with me. You should talk to them sometime about how naive and foolish I used to be, even worse than Lucy."


    Privately, I thought: *The difference is that Lucy has Jack protecting her, allowing her to remain naive. I never had that luxury.* If I didn’t crush Lucypletely this time, there would be a next time, and a time after that, endlessplications. I couldn’t allow that to happen.


    Anna’s POV


    He had noticed me, and that look in his eyes sent a cold chill down my spine. I watched as he whispered something in Nora’s ear before making his way toward me.


    "Ms. Shaw, it’s been a while," Samuel said as he approached. His posture was rxed, confident-the stance of a predator who believed he had his prey cornered.


    I forced my lips into a polite smile.


    "Mr. Griffin, you’re still in Skyview City. Your business must be going well." My tone remained light, but I kept my guard firmly up.


    Samuel raised his champagne flute, a smirk ying at the corners of his lips. "When Samuel Griffin sets his mind to something, failure is not an option." The threat behind his words hung in the air between us,


    unmistakable yet impossible to directly call out.


    I simply smiled in response, taking a sip of my own champagne. There was no need to escte things in the middle of a charity g. Besides, antagonizing him openly would only give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten under my skin.


    And then I saw her-Jasmine Butler, the forty-something investment mogul whose career I’d followed since my college days. She stood near one of the fundraising disys, sipping a martini while observing the crowd with keen eyes.


    "If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Griffin," I


    said, already moving past him, "there’s someone I need to speak with."


    I didn’t wait for his response, striding purposefully toward Jasmine. Here was a woman who had started with nothing, raised a child as a single mother, and built an empire of five sessful investment firms. If I needed a role model in this male-dominated industry, she was it.


    "Ms. Butler," I greeted her with genuine warmth, extending my hand.


    "I’m Anna Shaw. It’s such an honor to meet you."


    Jasmine’s handshake was firm, her smile reaching her eyes as she assessed me. "The pleasure is mine, Ms. Shaw. I’ve heard impressive things about you."


    "All good, I hope," I replied, feeling a girlish nervousness I hadn’t experienced in years.


    "Ms. Shaw, you began managing your family business at eighteen? That’s truly impressive," Jasmine said, studying me with interest.


    I shifted slightly, not wanting to dive into my family history during our first meeting. "Yes, circumstances were...


    Herugh was warm and genuine. "I had my share of sleepless nights and disaster meetings. The morous part onlyes after you’ve survived the struggles."


    We fell into an easy conversation about business strategies and market trends.


    For the first time that evening, I felt truly engaged rather than merely performing the social dance required of me. Jasmine’s insights were sharp, her advice practical, and I found myself absorbing every word.


    Then I heard it-the unmistakable


    sound of mockingughter just behind me, followed by a voice that was deliberately pitched to carry.


    "Shaw Corp is such a majorpany, yet they only donated $100,000? How stingy."


    My spine stiffened. I didn’t need to turn around to know who was behind this performance.


    "Lucy, your future father-inw is so generous," another voice chimed in.


    "When that Hope Elementary School is built, those children will have Jack’s father to thank."


    My throat tightened. Being publicly humiliated like this stung, especially in front of someone I admired. I caught Jasmine’s eye and saw her watching the scene unfold with interest.


    "Please don’t say that," Lucy’s sharine voice dripped with false modesty. "Mr. Simpson does charity without expecting anything in return.


    Besides, he’s not my father-inw yet.


    Stop saying that or I’ll get upset."


    *God, could she be more obvious?* I wanted to roll my eyes at her transparent performance. Lucy had perfected the art of attacking while appearing to defend.


    "And don’t talk about Anna like that," she continued, her voice a masterpiece of insincere concern. "Whether someone donates a lot or a little, it’s the thought that counts."


    I mentally snorted. *The thought that counts?* This woman was getting better at her backhandedpliments.


    As expected, her friends immediately seized the opening she’d provided.


    "It is the thought that counts-just seems like Anna Shaw doesn’t have much thought for those children in the mountains," one of them said, barely


    suppressing a giggle.


    "Exactly," another chimed in. "Even the Turner family, who aren’t as wealthy as the Shaws, donated $100,000. And the Porters, who are close to the Shaw family, donated $300,000."


    I took a deep breath, forcing my shoulders to rx. Turning to Jasmine, I decided to be straightforward. "Cash flow has been tighttely," I admitted.


    "Sorry you had to witness that, Ms. Butler."


    Jasmine waved her hand dismissively, a knowing smile ying on her lips.


    "What’s there to be sorry about? Every businessperson goes through cash crunches. I once attended charity events without donating a cent. I was so broke I could barely make payroll.


    If I hadn’t finally turned things around, who knows what I’d be doing now. Don’t feel embarrassed."


    Her candor was refreshing, washing away my difort in an instant. "I’m not embarrassed, really. I was just worried you might think poorly of me.


    Ms. Butler, I’d love to learn from you —I wouldn’t want you thinking I’m stingy."


    "Stingy?" She chuckled. "That’s not the word thates to mind when I hear your name. ’Resilient’ is more like it."


    Just as I was about to respond, Catherine’s voice cut through the air like a whip crack.


    "Some people never learn. Lucy Taylor, didn’t that p hurt enoughst time?


    Why are you here putting down Anna Shaw? Is your name on the donation list?" She stalked toward Lucy’s little group, her eyes zing. "Lucy, how much did you donate anyway?"