<h4>Chapter 65: Temptation</h4>


    Anna’s POV


    Logan’s eyes held mine with that unexpected intensity, and suddenly the garden around us felt too small, the air between us charged with something I hadn’t noticed in all our years of friendship.


    "Annie," he said, my childhood nickname sounding different in his voice now, "I don’t want you


    partnering with someone like Samuel Griffin. Let me help you instead."


    I studied his expression, the earnestness in his gaze unmistakable.


    The realization hit me like a bucket of ice water-Logan Porter, my childhood friend and asional tormentor, had feelings for me. Romantic feelings.


    "Logan..." I started, unsure how to navigate this sudden shift in our dynamic.


    He took a step closer, sunlight filtering through the oak leaves dappling his sandy hair with gold. "I’ve waited years to tell you this. I’ve always-"


    "I’m sorry, Logan," I interrupted, looking directly into his eyes with firm resolve. "But I can’t return your feelings."


    He didn’t seem surprised by my rejection, just disappointed. A bitter smile crossed his lips. "Because you’ve always seen me as an older brother figure?"


    "Yes," I answered briefly, though my emotions churned inside. The simplicity of my response belied theplexity of what I was feeling— shock, difort, and a strange sense of loss for a friendship that would never be the same again.


    "But I’ve never seen you as a little sister," he lowered his gaze, his voice deep and restrained. "I waited for you to grow up. Finally, you turned eighteen, but then your father passed away. Watching you suffer through your father’s death, seeing you struggling to keep Shaw Corp afloat— it didn’t seem appropriate to confess then."


    His words triggered a flood of memories-the chaos after my father’s sudden death, the vultures circling Shaw Corp, the panic I’d felt trying to keep everything from copsing. And Logan had been there, patiently teaching me how to run thepany, handle contracts, navigate business crises. For two entire years, he’d provided unwavering support, and I’d never suspected there might be something more behind it.


    "I thought I’d wait until things stabilized, until you were firmly established at Shaw Corp," he continued. "I saw you every day, but then... I heard you excitedly telling Oscar how you had feelings for Jack Simpson."


    "I’m sorry, Logan, but I still can’t ept your feelings," I repeated, feeling I needed to be absolutely clear.


    He looked up at me, his eyes tender and emotional behind his sses. "Is it because of Jack Simpson?"


    I shook my head immediately. "No, that’s over."


    "Then why?" he persisted, stepping closer. "I’m not in a rush. We can develop our feelings gradually. You can start seeing me as a man pursuing you rather than just a friend." His smile was gentle, hopeful. "Annie, I’m willing to wait until the day you ept me."


    Hearing him call me "Annie" made me involuntarily furrow my brow. An inexplicable aversion rose within me.


    With Jack, I would have immediately snapped back, but I couldn’t bring myself to rebuke Logan directly. This was Logan-someone who had watched me grow up, who’d held my hand at my father’s funeral, who’d taught me how to read financial statements when I was drowning in grief and responsibility.


    "Logan, I value our friendship too much to risk it on something I’m not certain about," I said finally, hoping he would understand. "And right now,


    I’m not looking for a rtionship with anyone."


    The disappointment in his eyes made my chest tighten with guilt, but I knew leading him on would only cause more painter.


    "I understand," he said quietly, though his expression suggested otherwise.


    "Just..... promise you’ll think about it?"


    I couldn’t even give him that. It wouldn’t be fair. "Logan-"


    "Ms. Shaw, Mr. Porter," Rachel’s voice cut through the tension as he appeared at the garden entrance. "Mrs. Shaw says tea is ready."


    I’d never been so grateful for an interruption.


    Once Logan and his mother had departed, Elizabeth wasted no time.


    "Why don’t you at least consider it?


    From any perspective, Logan is perfect for you," she suggested, watching me carefully as I helped her clear the tea service. "And Logan has never been married, and his family doesn’t mind that you’re divorced."


    I felt a wave of irritation but held my temper. "Whether they mind or not doesn’t matter since I don’t n to remarry anyway."


    The delicate teacup in my mother’s hand froze midway. "You don’t n to get married again?" Her voice rose in surprise, drawing my grandmother’s attention from her book.


    I suppressed my frustration and tried to exin calmly: "What’s so great about marriage? Having to adapt to a strange family, dealing with unfamiliar rtionships—I don’t have the time or energy to please others anymore."


    My mother’s face fell, and I immediately felt a pang of regret for my harsh tone. She’d only ever wanted me to be happy, to have the traditional markers of security and fulfillment.


    "So if you don’t get married, you don’t n to have children either?" Her expression grew stern, familiar worry lines appearing between her brows.


    There it was. The real concern. Not my happiness in marriage, but the continuation of the Shaw bloodline.


    Realizing my thoughts were too rebellious for this conversation, I could only answer diplomatically: "I didn’t say I wouldn’t have children. Having children is simple enough. Once I’ve built up Shaw Corp, I’ll have a child." I quickly moved forward to massage my mother’s shoulders, feeling the tension in her muscles. "Come on, don’t worry about me. I’m still young-whether it’s marriage or children, there’s plenty of time."


    This time, Mom wasn’t so easily cated. Her eyes immediately reddened, a sure sign that tears weren’t far behind. "The Shaw and Elizabeth’s family are down to just your bloodline now. If you don’t continue the family legacy, how can I face your father and your grandfather?"


    Her words struck me like a physical blow. I’d been so focused on rebuilding Shaw Corp, on settling scores with the Simpsons and establishing my independence, that I’d pushed aside this fundamental responsibility. The weight of being thest Shaw suddenly felt crushing.


    I turned to look at my grandmother, hoping for her usual progressive support, but even she wore an expression of quiet concern.


    "It’s not entirely about the family name," Margaret said softly, her voice carrying the wisdom of her years. "If we didn’t have you, your mother and I would have followed your father long ago."


    The simple honesty in her statement made my throat tighten. I wasn’t just the heir to Shaw Corp or thest carrier of the Shaw nameI was the


    reason they both continued to live and find joy after my father’s death. In this moment, I truly realized the significance of continuing the bloodline. I had to seriously face this issue now.


    But marriage? The very thought made my skin crawl after the disaster with Jack.


    Anna’s POV


    "I’ll think about it," I promised, the words feeling heavy on my tongue.


    "Just... give me some time."


    That evening, I met Catherine Murphy and Jasmine Butler for dinner at a restaurant, needing the distraction of good food and betterpany. After discussing potential investments and market trends, Jasmine nced at her watch and began gathering her things.


    "Can’t help it—I have a child at home.


    That little emperor won’t sleep unless I’m there," she apologized, rolling her eyes with the fond exasperation only a mother could manage. "I can’t stay and chat today, but once my parents return from their trip, I’ll find another opportunity to hang out properly."


    Catherine waved dismissively, reaching for her wine ss. "Hurry home! No need for formalities with us—your childes first."


    As Jasmine departed, Catherine turned her perceptive gaze on me. "What are you thinking about? You’ve been distracted all evening."


    "Children," I sighed, pouring myself another ss of wine beforeunching into the situation with my family.


    Catherine listened attentively, her expression thoughtful. When I finished, she reached across the table to squeeze my hand sympathetically.


    "I have to admit, you’re dealing with the pressures that usually fall on both men and women, you poor thing. Running a corporation and expected to continue the family line? That’s a hell of a burden."


    I nodded, grateful for her understanding. "I know they mean well, but..."


    "What’s so difficult about it?" she continued, leaning back in her chair.


    "Men need women to continue their bloodline, but women who want children? That’s something we can handle in a minute." A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. "What about my uncle Marcus? His physique, looks, intelligence-which one isn’t top-tier? If you two had a child, you’d be making an outstanding contribution to humanity."


    I nearly choked on my wine. "Your uncle? Catherine!"


    "What? He’s not that old, and clearly interested in you."


    Heat rushed to my cheeks. "Forget about your uncle. I couldn’t even bring myself to consider Sean Smith right now."


    Catherine also seemed to find this challenge perplexing. "So you don’t want to get married but want to have children. Having a child without the father in the picture..." she tapped her manicured nails against the table thoughtfully. "Unless you find a sperm donor. But then you can’t guarantee the quality-who knows what the looks, appearance, or intelligence level would be? What if there’s a hereditary disease? Wouldn’t that be worse?"


    "You could find high-quality donors overseas," Catherine suggested, "but having a mixed-race baby might concern your grandmother and mother."


    I wasn’t actually in a rush, just worried that Grandmother and Mom would keep pressuring me about marriage. If I could have a child soon, maybe they’d leave me alone about finding a husband.


    Suddenly, Catherine pped the table, her eyes wide with excitement. "I’ve got it! You could borrow from that guy!"


    I blinked,pletely confused. "What guy?"


    Catherine’s eyes suddenly sparked with mischief as she leaned across the table, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "What about that mystery man of yours? The one from Room 3303?"


    I nearly choked on my wine. "What about him?"


    "Well," she continued, her lips curving into a knowing smile, "you said he’s tall, has a sexy voice, knows what he’s doing in bed, and is obviously wealthy.


    Those are excellent qualifications for providing superior genes, don’t you think?"


    My heart skipped a beat as the outrageous suggestion took root in my mind. The idea was absurd, yet strangelypelling. "That’s... that’spletely insane," I said, but my tonecked conviction.


    "Why not?" Catherine replied with absolute confidence. "You get pregnant, then make up some excuse to end things. He never has to know. You get your child, your grandmother and mother get their heir, and you live your life exactly how you want.


    Everyone wins."


    I stared into my wine ss, picturing my mother and grandmother cooing over a baby-their attention diverted from my marital status to a new generation. The knot in my chest loosened slightly at the thought. It was insane, hical even, but a small voice in my head whispered that it could work.


    "Look at Jasmine," Catherine continued, sensing my wavering resolve. "Have you seen her kid on social media? Is that child unhappy? I also know this male model who’s a single father. He takes his kid everywhere, even to work. The boy’s already a little model himself. They do runway shows together-they’re not just dining partners, they’re work partners. Even I’m jealous."


    Each example she provided nted seeds of possibility in my mind, making this oundish idea seem increasingly reasonable.


    "We have money, connections, resources. If you have a baby, won’t your mother and grandmother spoil them rotten?" Catherine’s confident smile widened. "Life is about finding what works for you. Marriage? Take it or leave it. Children? Have them if you want."


    Relief washed over me as I contemted this new possibility. After we parted ways, I immediately texted the man from Room 3303: [Meet?]


    My heart hammered against my ribs as I waited for his response. Two minutes felt like two years. Finally, my phone buzzed: [One week.]


    One week-enough time to consider the gravity of my potential decision.


    Yet deep down, I was already anticipating this n that could change everything.


    ———


    The next morning, Jack was waiting at the entrance to Shaw Corp, his expression a familiar mix of


    stubbornness and misunderstanding.


    Seeing him triggered an instant wave of irritation that rose like bile in my throat. I knew exactly what he wanted to discuss, and I had zero interest in hearing it.


    "Ms. Shaw, Mr. Simpson insists on speaking with you," Rachel informed me as our car pulled up to the entrance.


    I could see Jack’s assistant Pax trying to approach, but Rachel smoothly intercepted him while escorting me toward the building.


    "Anna!" Jack called out, his voice carrying across the parking lot. "What do you think you’re doing with Samuel Griffin?"


    I kept walking, my spine rigid with determination.


    "You can’t trust him," Jack persisted, quickening his pace to catch up. "You have no idea what kind of man he really is."


    Something inside me snapped. I whirled around, facing him directly. "And you do? You, who couldn’t see Lucy Taylor for what she was despite everyone warning you?"


    Jack stepped back as if I’d physically struck him. "This isn’t about Lucy.


    This is about you making dangerous business decisions."


    "No, Jack," I said, my voice deadly calm. "This is about you thinking you still have any right to an opinion about my life."


    His face flushed with anger. "I’m trying to protect you."


    "I don’t need your protection. I never did." I turned away, gesturing for Rachel to follow. "Go back to your mother. I’m sure she has plenty of recement candidates lined up for Lucy."


    As we walked into the building, I heard him call after me, "Anna, you know what I feel for you hasn’t changed!"


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