<h4>Chapter 78: The Weight of Secrets</h4>


    Jack’s POV


    "Anna Shaw ispletely unsuitable for you, Jack!" Mother spat, her perfectly manicured fingers clenching the armrest of her chair. "A divorced woman with a tarnished reputation.


    Her private life is a mess! How could someone like that possibly re-enter respectable society as your wife?" I watched her face contort with disgust at the mere mention of Anna’s name.


    This wasn’t new-Mother had always viewed Anna as beneath us, unworthy of the Simpson name.


    "She’s nothing but trouble, always has been," she continued, her voice dropping to a venomous hiss. "That girl has been a gue on this family since the moment you brought her home. Everything was perfect before she came along."


    "That’s enough, Mary," my father said, his voice quiet but leaving no room for argument. "Your opinion on this matter is irrelevant. If Jack wants Anna back, that’s his business."


    Mother’s head snapped toward him, her eyes widening with betrayal. "How can you say that? After everything that’s happened? After what she’s done to our family name?"


    Father set his ss down with deliberate calm and fixed Mother with a stare that made even me ufortable.


    "What Anna Shaw has done," he said, "is demonstrate remarkable business acumen and resilience. She single- handedly saved Shaw Corp from copsing after her father’s death.


    She’s navigated corporate politics that would crush most seasoned executives, let alone someone her age."


    I couldn’t hide my surprise. Father had never openly praised Anna before, certainly not in front of Mother.


    He turned to me, his expression softening slightly. "Your mother doesn’t understand what’s at stake here."


    The implication hung heavy in the air between us. Skke District. The unspoken center of every business conversation in our family for months now.


    "This is about Skke District," Father finally said, turning back to Mother.


    "And you’d better get your priorities straight. Anna Shaw might be our best chance at salvaging this situation."


    Mother fell silent, her lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval.


    "I’m going to the police station," I announced, rising from my seat.


    ---


    Twenty minutester, I was navigating my car through Skyview City’s nearly empty streets. Thete-night traffic lights changed from red to green, casting alternating glows across the dashboard.


    If someone in the Simpson family wasn’t behind Anna’s near-fatal fall, then who? The most obvious alternative was Samuel Griffin-the man she was supposedly partnering with on the Skke project. But that made no sense. Samuel stood to gain far more with Anna alive than dead.


    The city seems calm, but underneath it is turbulent. It is clear that there is also a pair of ck hands behind the situation in the entire Skke District is constantly changing.


    Then who?


    Marcus’s POV


    I stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office in Murphy Estate, watching the dawn break over Skyview City. The early morning light painted the skyline in shades of gold and amber, but I couldn’t appreciate the beauty. My mind was consumed with thoughts of Anna Shaw dangling from that broken railing, her life hanging by a thread.


    The memory made my jaw clench involuntarily. I’d seen the surveince footage. The near-perfect execution of the attempt suggested a professional hand. This wasn’t an ident or a spur-of-the-moment attack-someone had carefully nned to kill her. The realization sent ice through my veins.


    "Sir, we’ve just received intel that Jack had a major fight with George. Based on our investigation, Anna’s fall likely wasn’t the Simpsons’ doing," Peter Reed reported, standing rigidly before my desk, his expression grave.


    I nodded, unsurprised. "I already know it wasn’t George Simpson."


    Peter blinked, momentarily thrown off bnce. "You do?"


    "George Simpson is many things-ruthless, calcting, maniptive-but he’s not stupid," I exined, turning away from the window. "Anna Shaw is still valuable to him alive. He wouldn’t risk everything he’s built on a murder that would inevitably lead back to his family."


    My fingers drummed against the polished wood of my desk as I considered the implications. If not the Simpsons, then who? The list of people who might benefit from Anna’s death was ufortably long, and the thought made my stomach twist into a cold knot.


    "Sir, then who could it be?" Peter asked, voicing the question that had kept me awake all night.


    I locked eyes with him, feeling a rare sensation of uncertainty creep through me. "I don’t know."


    Those three words tasted bitter on my tongue. I, who prided myself on always being two steps ahead, was stumbling in the dark. The realization made my blood simmer with quiet rage. Whoever was behind this had managed to staypletely in the shadows, and that made them infinitely more dangerous.


    Peter studied my face carefully before asking, "Sir, when do you n to return to Europe?"


    "Not until I find out who’s behind this," I replied without hesitation.


    Peter nodded, seeming to read my thoughts. "Since you’re worried about Ms. Shaw, why not take her with you?


    Everyone here is after what she has— herpany, the properties. If she leaves, they won’t know who to target."


    His suggestion hit me like a bolt of lightning. So simple, yet so perfect.


    Remove Anna from the equation entirely, and the predators would be left directionless. My mind raced, calcting possibilities and potential obstacles with machine-like precision.


    ---


    Three hourster, I stood on the doorstep of Shaw Estate, a carefully selected gift box tucked under my arm.


    Margaret Shaw weed me with surprising warmth, her wise eyes studying me with undisguised curiosity. Elizabeth’s reception was considerably cooler, her smile not quite reaching her eyes as she led me to the sitting room where Anna was already waiting.


    "Uncle Marcus," she greeted me, surprise evident in her voice. "I wasn’t expecting you."


    "I wanted to see how you were recovering," I replied, cing the gift box on the table beside her. "And to speak with all of you about something important."


    Margaret poured tea, her movements graceful and deliberate. When she handed me a cup, our eyes met briefly, and I saw understanding dawn in hers. She knew this wasn’t a casual visit.


    "What’s on your mind, Marcus?" she asked directly, settling into her chair.


    I took a measured breath, arranging my thoughts carefully. Directness would serve me best here.


    "I’d like Anna toe to Europe with me," I stated, watching their expressions closely.


    The statementnded like a bomb in the quiet room. Anna’s teacup froze halfway to her lips, her eyes widening.


    Elizabeth gasped audibly, color draining from her face.


    "You want Annie to go to Europe with you?" Margaret repeated, her voice carefully neutral.


    Before Anna could speak, Elizabeth cut in sharply. "That’s out of the question! People would talk!" Her hands twisted in herp, knuckles white with tension. "Anna’s reputation has already suffered enough. A trip to Europe with an unmarried man? The gossip would be unbearable."


    "I’m not concerned with gossip," I replied evenly. "I’m concerned with Anna’s safety."


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