<h4>Chapter 74: The Porters’ Party</h4>


    Anna’s POV


    I stood at the entrance of the Porter mansion, cradling an elegantly wrapped gift box in my arms. We stepped into the mansion’s grand foyer, immediately enveloped by the warm glow of crystal chandeliers.


    "Anna! Catherine!" Doris Porter’s voice carried across the room as she approached us, arms outstretched in greeting. Her champagne-colored gownplemented her warmplexion perfectly, making her appear at least a decade younger than her fifty years.


    "Happy birthday, Mrs. Porter," I said, offering the gift with a genuine smile.


    Despite theplexities with Logan, I’d always been fond of his mother.


    "Catherine and I hope you’ll love this."


    "Oh, you girls are too sweet," she gushed, epting the package. "And please, how many times must I remind you to call me Doris? ’Mrs. Porter’ makes me feel ancient!"


    As Doris excused herself to greet other arriving guests, I automatically slipped into hostess mode-a habit from years of attending such functions. I began assisting with drink distribution, making introductions between guests who hadn’t met, and ensuring conversations flowed smoothly. It was a role I could perform on autopilot, leaving my mind free to observe.


    I caught sight of Samuel entering again with Nora on his arm. The slight hush that fell over the nearby guests wasn’t lost on me. Samuel carried himself with the same calcted confidence as always.


    "Ms. Shaw," Nora approached meter by the refreshment table, her voice soft but determined. "I wanted to apologize —I’ve cleaned your wrap and meant to return it. I’ve been feeling unwelltely. Perhaps we could have dinner sometime? I’d love to thank you properly."


    I noticed how she nervously twisted her clutch in her hands, how desperately she seemed to crave connection in a room where most viewed her with thinly veiled contempt. The social dynamics of Skyview City could be brutally isting.


    "Please, it’s just a wrap," I replied, keeping my tone light. "You could have simply had it delivered to Shaw Corp. As for dinner, I’m afraid I’m swamped with year-end business.


    Perhaps after Thanksgiving, when things calm down, we could meet for tea instead?"


    Relief flooded her features at my suggestion. As Nora rejoined Samuel, I spotted the Walker brothers making their entrance. My muscles tensed involuntarily. If Sawyer encountered Nora here, it would create exactly the kind of drama I’d hoped to avoid tonight.


    Before I could make my own strategic retreat, Joseph Walker had already spotted me. As he approached, his eyes sparkled with mischief-the way they always did when he was about to say something provocative.


    "Anna," he said, leaning casually against a pir beside me. "Has your uncle’ Marcus been back in the country recently?"


    My spine stiffened immediately. "Mr. Walker, regarding Marcus’s whereabouts, shouldn’t you be asking the Murphy family? Why are you asking me?"


    I narrowed my eyes, maintaining a neutral expression despite the heat creeping up my neck. "I’m sure whatever gossip you’re fishing for would be far more entertaining than the truth."


    He chuckled, raising his ss in salute before mercifully moving on to torment some other guest.


    From across the room, I caught Sawyer’s cold stare. I met his look evenly for a moment before deliberately turning away. Whatever history they shared, his treatment of Nora revealed a cruelty I couldn’t respect.


    The evening stretched on endlessly. By the third hour, my feet were screaming in protest against the high heels I’d chosen. I retreated to a quieter corner, sinking gratefully onto a settee.


    "That’s what you get for wearing those killer heels," Catherine teased, joining me with two fresh champagne flutes.


    "The party’s barely started and you’re already suffering."


    I epted the offered drink, taking a small sip. "Beauty is pain, or so they say. Though I’m starting to question my life choices."


    "Speaking of questionable choices," Catherine nodded subtly toward Logan, who was making his way through the crowd toward us. "Your admirer approaches."


    Before I could respond, Logan stood before us, a concerned expression on his face. "You’ve been on your feet all night," he observed, his eyes falling to my shoes. "Wait here."


    He disappeared before I could protest, returning momentster with a pair of white block-heeled leather shoes that looked suspiciously like my size.


    "Don’t move," he instructed, kneeling before me. His hands gently removed my heels one by one. "These should be morefortable."


    When I realized how intimate this gesture appeared to onlookers, I felt my cheeks flush. "Logan, I can do it myself..."


    But he’d already slipped the ts onto my feet with practiced ease. Though I immediately felt relief, the public nature of this disy left me deeply ufortable. Around us, I could sense the spective nces, the knowing smiles, the whispered conversations.


    "Better?" he asked, standing again, his expression so genuinely concerned that it made my chest ache with guilt.


    "Much better. Thank you," I managed, forcing a smile while silently cursing the entire situation.


    After he walked away, Catherine raised an eyebrow. "Wow, that was intimate.


    This man actually remembers your shoe size."


    "I had no idea he felt this way until recently," I admitted. "How did I miss it?"


    "Because you were busy being that brilliant CEO of yours or obsessing over Jack?" Catherine suggested.


    "Meanwhile, Logan has been studying your every preference for years-how you take your coffee, which wines you prefer, even your damn shoe size."


    I groaned softly. "Don’t remind me. I have no idea how to handle this."


    Before Catherine could respond, a familiar voice cut through our conversation. "Catherine, darling, why are you hiding back here? Your father is looking for you."


    Mary Simpson stood before us, elegant in navy blue, deliberately focusing her attention on Catherine while pretending I didn’t exist.


    Catherine’s smile turned razor-sharp.


    "I’m hardly a child needing supervision, Aunt Mary. Perhaps you should check on Jack instead-isn’t he usually trailing after you?"


    Anna’s POV


    Mary’s meticulously made-up face twitched with barely contained irritation as she addressed Catherine.


    "Catherine, you used to be such a sweet girl. Why is there always an edge to your words now?" Mary forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "I’m your aunt—I only want what’s best for you. Dear, you’re a Murphy heiress.


    You shouldn’t get involved in just anyone’s business. Some matters aren’t for young people to meddle in."


    My eyebrow arched involuntarily. She wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that she was ming me for corrupting Catherine. I was about to open my mouth to defend myself when Catherine beat me to it.


    "Was I ever sweet?" Catherine asked, her expression a perfect mask of innocence. "If I recall correctly, you used toin to my mother that I was spoiled, arrogant, and willful."


    She deliberately lowered her voice, yet loud enough for everyone nearby to hear: "Auntie, I’m still single, you know? Could you not embarrass me in public? If you want to lecture me, could we wait until we get home? I think a young woman’s reputation is quite important, don’t you agree?"


    I suppressed myughter. When it came to passive-aggressive remarks, I was merely a novicepared to Catherine. Ironically, my increasingly sharp tongue was something I’d learned from her. It was precisely because of our association that my once rtively soft personality had grown progressively tougher.


    Mary didn’t dare risk beingbeled as someone who "damaged her own niece’s reputation." With a darkened face, she left without another word.


    "She and George visited my parents yesterday," Catherine told me with an eye roll. "When that didn’t work, they went to Grandfather William, who basically threw them out."


    I smiled wryly. "The Simpson family must be panicking, thinking were going to partner with Samuel."


    "Does this mean Skyview City’s peaceful facade is about to break?" Catherine asked, excitement flickering in her eyes.


    I gave her a knowing smile.


    "Absolutely."


    As the evening continued, I found myself constantly avoiding alcohol. Mymitment to preparing for pregnancy meant no drinking.


    The air in the ballroom had be stifling. I needed some fresh air and quietly slipped toward the terrace. As I rounded a corner in a dimly lit hallway, I spotted Jack’s assistant Pax whispering with someone. They immediately fell silent when they saw me, exchanging meaningful nces before parting ways.


    The night air on the terrace was a relief after the stuffiness indoors. I saw Samuel Griffin standing near the railing, Nora by his side.


    "Ms. Shaw, over here," Samuel gestured for me to join them.


    I pulled my coat tighter and walked toward them. "Mr. Griffin, Ms. Price" Suddenly, my foot caught on something-perhaps a loose floorboard, or something deliberately ced. Ipletely lost my bnce.


    Samuel’s face transformed with horror.


    He dropped his ss and lunged toward me, but he was too far away. I crashed hard against the railing at the terrace’s edge, the impact knocking the air from my lungs.


    "Look out!" "Boss!"


    Then came a sickening crack as the railing gave way beneath my weight.


    Before I could understand what was happening, I was falling.


    "Someone’s fallen!" "Oh God, call security, quickly!"


    By some miracle, my hands caught the broken piece of railing. My entire body dangled over the edge, suspended six stories above another terrace below.


    "Boss, don’t move! Hold tight!" Rachel shouted, her voice tight with panic.


    She turned to the gathering crowd:


    "Someone help, please!"


    I didn’t dare move. Gathering my courage, I nced down. While it wasn’t a direct fall to solid ground, the decorative lower terrace was still six floors below—a fall that would likely be fatal.


    My arms burned from supporting my entire body weight. Every muscle screamed in protest.


    Through the pounding in my ears, Rachel’s voice sounded distant:


    "Samuel, this isn’t working. My boss doesn’t have that kind of upper body strength. If she lets go, she’ll fall."


    "We need rope, rope would work," someone suggested.


    "T’l find security and get some rope," Nora said, immediately heading back inside.


    "Boss, hang on. The rope ising soon," Rachel said, her forehead glistening with sweat.


    I clenched my jaw so hard I thought my teeth might break: "You’d better hurry. I can’t... hold on... much longer."


    The winter night’s bitter cold cut through my evening dress—my coat had fallen away in the chaos. My fingers were growing numb, my grip weakening second by second. I was suspended between life and death, with only my fading strength preventing me from falling.


    "The rope’s here!" someone finally called out.


    I looked up to see Logan rushing forward with coiled rescue rope.


    Without hesitation, he tossed one end toward me.


    "Anna, grab the rope!" he shouted.


    The rope hung tantalizingly close, but reaching for it meant releasing one hand from its death grip on the railing. Facing certain death, my arms had gone almostpletely numb. I wasn’t sure if I had enough strength left to make the switch.


    "I can’t," I responded, my voice trembling, "my hands arepletely numb."


    "Annie, don’t be afraid. Close your eyes. I’ming to you." Logan’s voice attempted reassurance, but I could hear the underlying fear.


    He began carefully climbing over the broken section of railing toward me.


    With each movement, the damaged metal shuddered. I couldn’t contain a scream as the railing lurched downward. When Logan’s weight fully pressed against it, the metal bent even further.


    My arms, already beyond their limit, began to give out. My fingers, bloodless and frozen, started slipping inch by inch from the rail.


    "I’m falling," I cried out, watching in horror as my grip weakened. "I can’t.


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