<h4>Chapter 60: Left Behind</h4>


    Anna’s POV


    At the mention of Lucy’s name, I took the tablet from Rachel’s hands and carefully scrolled through the photos again. The angles were deliberately misleading—in one, Samuel appeared to be whispering intimately in my ear; in another, a dismissive nce I’d thrown his way had been captured in a way that made it look like a coy smile.


    "It must be her," I agreed, a coldugh escaping my lips. "Look at these camera angles—in this one, Samuel’s face is practically pressed against mine.


    And this one? I never smiled at him like that. That was clearly a dismissive smirk."


    I scrolled through thements, each one more vicious than thest. They spected wildly about my "rtionship" with Samuel, suggesting I was desperate to align myself with Heritage Group. Some even implied I’d orchestrated my divorce from Jack to pursue wealthier, more powerful men.


    Thements made my blood boil, but I refused to let it show. Instead, I exited that trending topic and clicked on the one about my appearance at the g.


    Here, the tone was entirely different.


    Users had posted multiple high-quality photos of me, captured by professional photographers before they’d been asked to leave. Thements were universally positive:


    [Anna is absolutely stunning! She should be on runways instead of in boardrooms—but we’re d she’s blessing the business world with her presence.]


    (Perfect figure, gorgeous face, impable style this woman has it all!]


    [Whoever started those other rumors is clearly just jealous of her. No question.]


    By the time I handed the tablet back to Rachel, my mood had miraculously stabilized.


    Compared to the genuine admiration I received for simply being myself, the manufactured scandal seemed insignificant.


    "Should I arrange for someone to check the security footage? If Lucy is behind this, she must have left some evidence," Rachel asked cautiously.


    I returned my attention to my skincare routine, pumping a small amount of moisturizer onto my fingertips. "Don’t bother. Do you really think I’m worried about rumors like this? If I dealt with every piece of gossip, I’d have time for nothing else."


    Just then, the doorbell downstairs rang frantically. Not knowing who it was, Rachel went down to check.


    I pulled out a soft gray knit dress and paired it with a camel-colored cardigan —perfect for the light rain currently falling outside.


    I had just taken off my pajamas when rapid footsteps approached my bedroom, apanied by Rachel’s urgent voice:


    "Mr. Simpson, you can’t go in there!


    Ms. Shaw isn’t receiving visitors right now."


    Hearing Jack’s name, my body instantly tensed. I hastily wrapped my robe around my half-dressed body and moved toward the door, ready to confront him.


    I reached the door just as it began to open, catching a glimpse of Jack’s determined expression. Without hesitation, I mmed it shut with enough force to make the wood frame shudder.


    I stared at the door I’d just mmed in Jack’s face, my heart racing. The nerve of that man, barging into Rosa Vi like he still had some im to me or this ce.


    "Anna, we need to talk," Jack called through the door, his voice muffled but still carrying thatmanding tone I’d grown to detest.


    "I’m changing," I replied coolly. "Wait downstairs if you must, but I’m not discussing anything with you half-dressed."


    Silence followed, then the sound of retreating footsteps. I exhaled slowly, my shoulders rxing as I moved away from the door.


    I slipped out of my robe and quickly dressed. As I stepped into a pair offortable ts, I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror.


    The woman staring back at me looked nothing like the polished, untouchable figure fromst night’s charity g.


    Gone was the sleek updo and statement jewelry, reced by soft waves and minimal makeup. This version of me looked more approachable.


    When I descended the stairs, I found Jack standing in the living room with Rachel hovering nearby, her posture tense and watchful. Jack’s eyes snapped to me immediately, tracking my movement as I reached the bottom step.


    "You’re going out," he stated, his tone somewhere between usation and disbelief.


    I deliberately maintained my distance, positioning myself near the entry table where I ced my purse. Rachel moved to stand slightly behind me, a silent ally.


    "I have a lunch appointment," I replied evenly, checking my watch with exaggerated care. A flicker of annoyance passed through me-why did he always feel entitled to exnations about my life? "If there’s nothing urgent, Mr. Simpson, I’d prefer if you said nothing at all."


    I knew him too well-the slight narrowing of his eyes, the tightening of his jaw. Even before he opened his mouth, I could predict his next words with depressing uracy.


    "With whom?" he demanded, that familiar possessive edge creeping into his voice.


    "How is that any of your business?" I asked, my voice dropping several degrees colder.


    Jack took a step closer, his expression hardening. "Is it Samuel?"


    Of course. He was still fixated on those ridiculous rumors. A sharp painnced through a tender spot in my heart—a ce that once held trust and hope, now housing only disappointment and hurt.


    I sighed, beyond the point of exnations. "Think whatever you want, Jack."


    I turned toward the door, gesturing for Rachel to follow. "Lock up when you leave," I added without looking back, my hand already on the doorknob.


    "Anna—" he started, but I was already stepping outside, letting the door close firmly behind me.


    Once inside the car, Rachel turned to me with a curious expression. "Ms. Shaw, why didn’t you just tell Mr. Simpson the truth? About your lunch with Mr. William Murphy?"


    "Let him believe what he wants," I said softly, a barely perceptible note of sadness coloring my voice. "If his misunderstanding keeps him away, all the better."


    Jack’s POV


    I stood in the living room of Rosa Vi, the door still vibrating from the force with which it had closed behind Anna. The message couldn’t have been clearer if she’d painted it on the wall— she didn’t care enough to even offer an exnation. The utter dismissal left me feeling hollow, like I’d be nothing more than a nuisance to be brushed aside.


    "Jack... I turned to see Lucy standing behind me, her eyes filled with unmistakable sympathy. I hadn’t even noticed her following me here.


    "Anna’s already gone, Jack," she said softly. "She doesn’t care about you anymore."


    Her words pierced through me like shards of ss. My ears rang with denial, my mind refusing to process what she was saying. This can’t be happening. Not Anna. Not like this.


    How could the woman who once pledged herself to me at the altar change sopletely? The Anna I knew would have at least offered an exnation, would have cared enough to clear up a misunderstanding. We had built a life together, shared dreams, made promises how could all of that evaporate so quickly?


    I shook my head, my throat constricting painfully. "She wouldn’t..."


    Lucy’s eyes reddened as she stepped closer. "Jack, I wasn’t lying to you. You saw the photos online, didn’t you?


    Anna really did leave with Samuelst night."


    The evidence crashed down on me like a physical weight. The pictures didn’t lie-Anna and Samuel, leaving together, his hand possessively ced on her lower back. All those whispers at the g suddenly made sense. My chest tightened with each breath, reality finally breaking through my desperate denial.


    "Jack, I might envy Anna," Lucy continued, her voice catching. "But I would never lie to you about this. You used me unfairly."


    Tears began streaming down her face, silent but impossible to ignore.


    Watching her, I felt a stab of guilt pierce through my pain. I had taken my frustration out on her, ming the messenger for a message I didn’t want to hear.


    I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to keep my own emotions in check. The mixture of hurt, jealousy, and regret was overwhelming, threatening to pull me under. With a heavy sigh, I awkwardly ced my hand on her shoulder.


    "I’m sorry," I managed, my voice rough. "I was wrong to use you. What do you want? I’ll get it for you."


    The words came out t and mechanical, but it was the best I could offer in my state. A peace offering, a way to make amends for misdirecting my anger.


    Like flipping a switch, Lucy’s expression transformed. The tears still glistened on her cheeks, but a smile now brightened her face. "I don’t want anything," she assured me. "I just want you to be happy. Please don’t be sad anymore."


    I attempted a smile in return, but it felt like a grimace,sting only a fraction of a second before my face fell back into its natural state of misery.


    "Come on," I said, already moving toward the door. "I’ll take you home before heading to Simpson Group."


    Anna’s POV


    At the Murphy Estate, I had just finished telling Catherine about what happenedst night.


    Catherine’s eyes were wide open.


    "Annie, you’re absolutely insane! If that bastard had really gotten hurt, you’d bepletely screwed." She shook her head in disbelief.


    I shrugged with practiced nonchnce, hoping she couldn’t detect the nervousness fluttering beneath myposed exterior. "I didn’t have time to think it through. He was drugged, aggressive, and I was trapped in a room with him. What was I supposed to do? Let him use me as his remedy?"


    I took another sip of tea, avoiding her gaze. "Besides, he crossed paths with me at exactly the wrong moment.


    That’s his bad luck, not mine."


    Catherine leaned forward, even though we were alone, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper: "Samuel isn’t someone who forgets slights. You basically incapacitated him, then abandoned him at a hospital. He’s definitely going to seek revenge." Her manicured nails tapped anxiously against the armrest. "I’m serious, Annie. That man is dangerous."


    "I’ve already made an enemy of him," I replied, setting my cup down with more force than necessary. "What’s one more offense at this point? I’m not afraid of him." The words came out strong and confident, but internally, I knew the situation was far from resolved. Samuel wasn’t the type to let things go, especially when his pride had been wounded so publicly.