<h4>Chapter 64: Hidden Truths</h4>


    Anna’s POV


    Ten days of back-to-back meetings had left me bone-weary, my body desperate for rest but my mind still racing with business strategies and unresolved issues. The familiar gates of Shaw Estate appeared through the car window, and I felt my shoulders rx slightly at the sight of home.


    "Ms. Shaw, your mother asked to be notified of your arrival," Rachel said, looking up from her tablet. "She mentioned having some matters to discuss with you."


    I nodded, massaging my temples to ease the tension headache that had been my constantpanion for the past three days. "Tell her I’ll see her after I’ve had a bath."


    The hallway was quiet as I walked in, heels clicking against marble floors that gleamed under soft lighting. I dropped my bags at the foot of the stairs, already unbuttoning my zer as I headed toward my suite.


    An hourter, submerged in my oversized bathtub filled with steaming water and essential oils, I finally felt the knots in my muscles begin to loosen. The lingering scent ofvender and rose enveloped me, soothing my frayed nerves.


    "These came while you were away," Elizabeth said, entering the bathroom with a stack of envelopes in her hands.


    "Quite a few invitations." She set them on the marble countertop beside the tub, her movements graceful as always.


    "Thank you, Mother." I reached for a towel to dry my hands before picking up the first envelope.


    Elizabeth perched on the edge of a nearby vanity stool. "How was your trip? Productive, I hope?"


    "Exhausting but necessary." I thumbed through the stack until a particr embossed envelope caught my eye heavy cream cardstock with gold lettering. *Samuel Griffin*. I raised an eyebrow. "What could he possibly want?"


    Rachel, who had been organizing my clothes for tomorrow, nced over.


    "Perhaps he wants to thank you for helping Nora at the Walker event?"


    I let out a dryugh, setting the invitation aside on the ledge. "Samuel Griffin doesn’t do gratitude. Nora is just his date, not his girlfriend."


    ---


    On that day, I went to the


    appointment, and sure enough, I didn’t see Nora.


    Espresso Lane, one of Shaw Corp’s high-end coffee shops in the financial district, was busy as usual with the afternoon crowd. The establishment was known for its artisanal coffee blends and discrete private meeting rooms that catered to Skyview City’s business elite. As I walked through the main café area, the manager spotted me and hurried over, his face a picture of barely contained panic.


    "Ms. Shaw! We weren’t expecting you today. If I’d known you wereing, I would have_"


    "Rx," I said calmly. "I’m just here to meet someone."


    The relief on his face was almostical. "Of course, of course. Right this way to our best private room."


    Rachel stepped in smoothly. "Ms. Shaw is here on private business, not to inspect operations. Please continue as normal."


    The private room was immacte rich mahogany tables, plush leather chairs, and a wall of windows overlooking the bustling financial district. Samuel Griffin sat with his back to the door, examining a bottle of wine he must have brought himself with exaggerated interest.


    "The documents are on the table, Ms. Shaw," he said without turning around. "Feel free to have a look."


    I approached the table cautiously, curious but wary. What I found left me momentarily speechless—a business contract, and not just any contract. The proposal outlined was remarkably simr to the one I’d presented to Samuel months ago regarding potential development in Skke District.


    *What game is he ying?* I wondered, trying to maintain myposure despite my racing heart.


    "Mr. Griffin," I finally said, "what exactly is this supposed to mean?"


    Samuel set down the wine bottle and turned to face me, his expression unreadable. "I would think it’s obvious. I’m proposing a business partnership with Shaw Corp."


    I remained standing, hands resting lightly on the back of my chair.


    "Forgive my skepticism, but from what I understand, you’ve been in talks with Simpson Group recently."


    The corners of his mouth twitched with suppressed amusement. "So I have."


    "Then why the sudden interest in working with Shaw Corp? Heritage Group has never considered us worthy of notice before." I kept my voice level, professional. "A partnership between Heritage and Simpson would make more sense-two powerhouses joining forces. Coming to me now seems... suspicious at best."


    Samuel’sughter filled the room, sharp and mocking. "My God, is Anna Shaw actually afraid? The woman who took on the Simpson family without flinching is suddenly cautious? Am I really so terrifying that you’re backing away from a lucrative offer?"


    I sat down with deliberate calm, pouring us each a ss of water. "My situation with the Simpson family isplicated. And to be perfectly honest, the only reason I dared challenge them was because I had William Murphy’s influence behind me." I met his gaze directly. "So yes, Mr. Griffin, I am cautious about antagonizing you."


    Something shifted in Samuel’s expression-surprise, perhaps, at my candor. He studied me for a long moment, and I held his gaze steadily, refusing to show any sign of intimidation.


    "Well, well," he finally said, "Shaw is more straightforward than I expected.


    I was too abrupt earlier. Let’s start over." He lifted his champagne flute. "To new beginnings?"


    I couldn’t help but smile slightly at his sudden attempt at civility. "I’ll drink to that, Mr. Griffin." Our sses clinked, the sound crystalline in the quiet


    room.


    Samuel set down his ss, his demeanor shifting to something more serious. "Remember when I mentioned suspecting someone was manipting events behind the scenes? I’ve had George Simpson thoroughly investigated."


    "I doubt it’s him," I said, shaking my head.


    "Of course it’s not," Samuel agreed readily. "I was assessing whether he’d be worth partnering with. After thorough evaluation, I’ve concluded that George Simpson’s moral character is questionable at best. I have no interest in working with him."


    I remained silent, unsure how to respond to such a blunt assessment.


    "Something interesting surfaced during my investigation," Samuel continued, watching me closely. "Did you know that George Simpson once proposed to Elizabeth Shaw? Isn’t it ironic that your familiester became connected through marriage anyway? Doesn’t that strike you as awkward?"


    Anna’s POV


    "My *mother*?" I nearly jumped from my chair, shock coursing through me.


    "That’s impossible. I’ve never heard about this-not from my mother, not from anyone." My mind raced. "This can’t be true. My mother and Mary Simpson have always despised each other. If George had pursued my mother, Mary would have made our lives even more miserable."


    Samuel’s smile held a hint of satisfaction at my reaction. "Don’t believe me? That’s fine. I find it rather strange myself. Very few people know about it. Apparently, George’s family had business connections with your maternal grandfather’s family. Your grandfather’s family was quite prestigious in Skyview City, while George came from a small town in the outskirts. In today’s terms, he was social climbing. Look at how he eventually married into the Murphy family-clearly seeking powerful connections. Your grandfather likely saw through his intentions and refused, which is why your mother probably never heard about it."


    I fell silent, processing this revtion. I knew very little about George’s early years, only that the Simpson family’s current sess owed much to William Murphy’s support-which was partly why I’d been considered an eptable match for Jack.


    "Regardless," Samuel continued, "my reluctance to partner with Simpson Group stems primarily from George’s untrustworthiness. He’s too calcting,


    too ambitious. I refuse to be his stepping stone." He raised his ss to me again. "I find your sincerity valuable, Ms. Shaw. I misjudged you before."


    I suppressed a wry smile. Even his self-deprecation came with barbs.


    "The Skke District paperwork isn’t finalized yet," I said carefully. "There’s no need to rush, Mr. Griffin. Perhaps there are better partners for you out there."


    Samuel looked directly into my eyes.


    "Don’t you want to identify the puppet master working against us?"


    His words struck home. This person— whoever they were-might cost others the Skke District project, but for me, my grandmother’s family’s historic building was at stake.


    "Or," Samuel suggested, his eyes gleaming with cunning, "we could stage a performance and see if we can draw them out."


    My heart beat faster at the proposition.


    I needed to do something-and Samuel had resources Icked.


    "What kind of performance did you have in mind?" I asked, leaning forward, ready to hear his n.


    "Very simple," Samuel had said with that infuriating self-assurance of his, leaning back in his chair like a cat that had just cornered its prey.


    I hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Samuel Griffin’s overconfidence was as much a part of him as his expensive suits and calcting smile.


    But within forty-eight hours, news of our partnership had spread through Skyview City’s business circles like wildfire.


    The reactions varied widely. At the Heritage Group’s charity cocktail, I overheard snippets of conversation that made my skin crawl.


    Those who actually knew me, however, responded with confusion rather than gossip.


    I understood their concern. Samuel’s reputation for ruthlessness wasn’t unearned. But sometimes in business, you needed someone willing to y dirty-especially when facing opponents like the Simpsons.


    The sunlight dappled through the ancient oak trees in the garden at Shaw Estate, creating shifting patterns on the stone pathway. I’d escaped to the rtive sanctuary of the garden after Doris Porter had arrived to visit my mother. Logan had apanied his mother, and somehow we’d ended up walking among the carefully tended flower beds while our mothers caught up inside.


    "Samuel Griffin is unpredictable, Anna," Logan said, his normally cheerful expression reced by something more serious. "You should keep your distance."


    I smiled, trying to lighten his mood.


    "His personality isn’t my concern, Logan. I’m looking for a business partner, not a date."


    I’d known Logan Porter practically my entire life. He’d been there for my skinned knees as a child and my broken heart as a teenager. His concern was touching, if unnecessary.


    "Besides," I continued, "it’s a limited partnership. Once we acquire the Skke District property, we’ll go our separate ways."


    Logan stopped walking, turning to face me directly. The sunlight caught in his sandy brown hair, giving him an almost golden halo. "Anna, I can help you."


    Iughed, more out of surprise than amusement. "Don’t be ridiculous. The Porters have never been involved in real estate development."


    "I’m serious." His voice had an intensity I rarely heard from him. "Just because we haven’t been involved in real estate before doesn’t mean we


    can’t start now. Between our two families, we could take on the Simpsons."


    Myughter faded as I realized he meant every word. I studied his face, noting the determination in his eyes.


    "Logan, that’s... that’s a significant shift for your family’s business interests."


    "Annie," he said, using my childhood nickname with a softness that caught me off guard, "I don’t want to see you hurt again. Let me help you."


    His gaze held mine with unexpected intensity, and suddenly I saw something I’d never noticed before-something warm and deep and unmistakably personal. My heart skipped a beat as the realization washed over me. This wasn’t just friendly concern. Logan Porter, my childhood friend, my reliable confidant, harbored feelings for me that went far beyond friendship.


    Elizabeth’s POV


    Doris Porter and I were huddled in the tea room of Shaw Estate, pretending to focus on our jasmine-scented brew while actually spying on the garden like a pair of teenage girls. Through the delicately pruned bonsai trees lining the window, I could see Anna and Logan Porter engaged in what appeared to be an intense conversation.


    I leaned closer to the window, squinting to better see my daughter’s expression.


    "I might as well be honest with you," Doris said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "That matchmaking dinner was actually Logan’s idea. He specifically asked me to arrange it." Her eyes sparkled with anticipation. "My eldest has had feelings for Annie since they were children."


    I nearly choked on my tea. My mind instantly shed back to Annie’s childhoodints after returning from the Porter residence. "How is that


    possible? I distinctly remember Annie alwaysining that Logan was too harsh with her. I assumed he found her annoying."


    Doris waved her hand dismissively, wearing the knowing expression of someone who’d witnessed this drama unfold for years. "That was just his awkward way of showing attention.


    The poor boy never knew how to express himself properly-always so stiff and ufortable."


    My lips twitched involuntarily. As a mother, I knew my daughter better than anyone. Annie had absolutely no romantic interest in Logan Porter. If anything, she was closer to Oscar, but even that rtionship was purely tonic. A knot of concern tightened in my chest.


    "He’s not nning to confess to her now, is he?" I asked cautiously, my eyes darting back to the garden where the two stood beneath the dappled shade of an oak tree.


    Doris nodded eagerly,pletely missing my concern. "That’s exactly his n. He said if he doesn’t tell Annie how he feels, she’ll never know." She patted my hand affectionately. "Let the young people sort it out themselves. Whether it works out depends on Logan’s luck. Please tell Annie not to feel burdened—if she likes him, wonderful; if not, that’s fine too."


    Those words instantly lifted the weight from my shoulders. I exhaled deeply, relief washing through me like a cool breeze. My Annie had always been strong-willed and decisive. She would never force herself into a rtionship out of obligation. What had worried me most was how this might affect the long-standing friendship between our families, but hearing Doris’s open-minded attitude put those fears to rest.


    "That’s such a healthy perspective, Doris," I said sincerely, my anxiety finally subsiding. "You’re right—they should make their own decisions."