<h4>Chapter 81: Secrets at Golden Oak Manor</h4>


    Jack’s POV


    "Mr. Simpson, that security guard was taken away."


    My face darkened as my heart skipped a beat. "Taken away? By whom?" I demanded, feeling my fingers instinctively curl into fists.


    This was about Anna’s fall-every lead mattered. I couldn’t afford to lose any thread of information.


    The man before me shifted ufortably. "I think it was Mr. Murphy’s people. That head of security who’s always with him, the intimidating one."


    Anger shed through me like lightning. How could my staff be so ipetent at such a critical moment?


    The urge to fire him on the spot bubbled up inside me.


    "Have you never seen Marcus Murphy before? You don’t even recognize his people?" didn’t bother hiding the contempt in my voice.


    My subordinate’s face flushed with embarrassment. "I have, sir, just didn’t pay much attention to details."


    I fell silent, digesting this information with mounting frustration. I was used to Pax Powell’s efficiency-these idiots were useless byparison. A wave of defeat washed over me; I’d spotted the lead first, but someone else had snatched it right from under my nose.


    "Mr. Simpson, what should we do now?"


    My temple throbbed. *Is he seriously asking me this?* "The guy’s been taken. Do you expect me to wait here until dawn?" I snapped.


    He stared nkly before finally understanding I wanted to leave. "Should we head back to the Simpson residence?"


    I pinched the bridge of my nose, exhaustion settling into my bones. After that argument with my parents, going back home would be admitting defeat. Pride and stubbornness rose from somewhere deep inside me— couldn’t show weakness now.


    "Moonlight Cove," I said coldly, deciding to return to my own ce instead.


    ---


    The next morning, I headed straight to Murphy Estate, only to discover Marcus wasn’t there. A sense of urgency pushed me immediately toward Golden Oak Manor, his Skyview City residence.


    Deep winter had stripped the countryside bare-not a hint of green in sight. Yet at the foot of Golden Oak Manor, patches of evergreens stood defiant against the season. Not as lush as summer’s offering, but remarkable nheless.


    The massive iron gates only opened after I received clearance. My car continued for another minute before stopping in front of an imposing mansion.


    I was informed that Marcus was in his study on a video conference, so I waited in the foyer. The interior was tastefully decorated with a blend of modern and ssic pieces— understated wealth rather than gaudy disys. A few minutester, I heard his measured footsteps on the staircase.


    "What brings you here?" he asked concisely, skipping pleasantries.


    I got straight to the point, struggling to keep my voice steady. "Uncle,st night my people saw your security team take that guard away."


    Marcus didn’t seem remotely surprised by my visit, which irritated me. It felt like he was always ten steps ahead, watching me stumble through his perfectly choreographed y.


    "Yes, he’s here with me," he confirmed without hesitation.


    Anxiety tightened around my chest.


    "Did you find out who’s behind this?


    Who did it?" My voice trembled slightly.


    Marcus studied me with that prating gaze that always made me feel like a transparent specimen. "No need to rush. We’ll discuss once everyone’s here."


    I froze, confusion shing through my mind. I’d assumed Marcus was only having Anna brought over, but the situation clearly ran deeper.


    Before I could press further, the doorbell rang. Marcus’s security chief appeared with Samuel Griffin in tow.


    Minutester, the Porter brothers— Logan and Oscar-arrived together.


    Things were gettingplicated fast.


    Oscar strode in with his typical exuberance. "Wow, Marcus, this ce is really impressive! Aren’t you scared living here all alone at night?"


    Anna’s POV


    I felt my heart rate elerate the moment I turned off the highway exit.


    Through the windshield, the imposing silhouette of Golden Oak Manor gradually came into focus, while my thoughts grew increasingly chaotic.


    The revtion that this magnificent estate belonged to Marcus Murphy.


    Golden Oak Manor wasn’t far from Skke District, both located in the same general direction. What shocked me even more was discovering that this property had been auctioned together with Nestling Crest Bay. That year, Nestling Crest Bay had be the most expensive plot in the city, while "fringe areas" like Golden Oak Manor attracted little interest. I remembered this so clearly because my father had mentioned Golden Oak


    before his death, predicting it would significantly appreciate in value someday.


    Shortly after my father’s passing, the Nestling Crest Bay auction concluded, and property values in that area indeed rose, including around Golden Oak. Thinking back to Marcus’s absolute certainty that Skke District wouldn’t lose money, and his confident assertion that Nestling Crest Bay would develop quickly, a bold thought suddenly shed through my mind.


    My heartbeat nearly drowned out the car engine’s rumble. ncing at Peter Reed concentrating on driving in the rearview mirror, I abruptly spoke:


    "The person who bought Nestling Crest Bay back then was Marcus, wasn’t it?"


    Peter visibly panicked, the car wobbling slightly as he stammered, "Ms. Shaw, how-how did you guess that so quickly?"


    My suspicions confirmed.


    "He’s owned Nestling Crest Bay for several years now. Why start developing it only now?" I asked tentatively, my voice hiding a mixture of anticipation and unease.


    Peter’s expression turned serious. "Ms. Shaw, I can’t discuss that. If you want to know, you’ll have to ask Mr. Murphy yourself. I’m sorry."


    "Is it because of me?" I looked directly at him, voicing my guess.


    Peter’s whole body tensed, his silence answering more eloquently than words ever could.


    Looking at his expression, what else was there to misunderstand? Marcus rarely returned to America these past few years, but his recent frequent visits spoke volumes. If I hadn’t set my sights on Skke District, Nestling Crest Bay might have remained untouched for who knows how long.


    Everything he’d done was for me. This realization flooded my heart with warmth.


    "Ms. Shaw, currently no one besides you knows that Nestling Crest Bay belongs to Mr. Murphy. Please keep this confidential for now," Peter reminded me quietly.


    "Of course," I responded softly. I wasn’t stupid—if others discovered this, Skyview City’s businessndscape would likely reshufflepletely. It meant Marcus’s business empire had quietly taken root in Skyview City.


    Domestic and international ventures-no wonder he was always so busy.


    A thought crossed my mind: if I hadn’t been smart enough to figure it out, was he nning to never tell me?


    Then again, it’s not like others weren’t intelligent. Everyone else just knew Marcus had purchased a fringe property to build a mansion; they couldn’t possibly imagine he’d also bought Nestling Crest Bay. If Marcus hadn’t specifically mentioned Nestling Crest Bay to me, I wouldn’t have made these connections either.


    My heart suddenly felt stuffed with cotton—full and soft-as a feeling of being treasured quietly spread within me.


    Arriving at Golden Oak Manor, Peter got out and personally opened my door. "Ms. Shaw, Mr. Griffin and Mr. Porter have already arrived."


    I was puzzled, not understanding what game Marcus was ying by inviting Samuel Griffin and Logan Porter. With questions swirling in my mind, I stepped into the spacious hall.+


    Anna’s POV


    Several men were indeed seated in the vast room. My high heels clicked against the marble floor, the crisp sound causing the men to turn their heads in my direction. To my surprise, Jack Simpson was among them.


    "Marcus invited Anna too?" Oscar remarked with a teasing tone. "Are we being treated to a feast?"


    Marcus motioned toward him: "Sit over here." The seat beside him, closest to him, was vacant.


    I noticed Jack and Logan’s expressions simultaneously darkening, displeasure shing in their eyes. This subtle change didn’t escape my notice, but I chose to ignore it, walking directly to the seat beside Marcus.


    "Uncle Marcus, why have you called us here?" I asked softly, trying to mask my curiosity and nervousness.


    Marcus answered briefly: "Business."


    As servers began bringing tea, Samuel quipped, "If Ms. Shaw hadn’te, we four wouldn’t even get tea."


    I had no response. With both arms still immobile, drinking tea presented a challenge. As I privately contemted this, a server positioned himself next to me with a tray, the teacup thoughtfully containing a straw.


    This special treatment stirred something in me. The delicate aroma of green tea—my favorite-wafted toward me. I smiled at the server, "T’ve switched to in water recently.


    Would you mind bringing that instead?"


    The server immediately exchanged it for water, again thoughtfully including a straw. This meticulous attention warmed me, though it also made me somewhat ufortable, especially under everyone’s watchful eyes.


    Just then, Peter shoved a man into the room. The man wore a hotel security uniform, his hands bound behind him, head hanging low. Peter threw him down in front of us.


    Recognizing the familiar security uniform, my heart jumped: "Uncle Marcus, is this...?"


    The man on the floor struggled to his knees and, surprisingly, crawled toward Logan and Oscar. The Porter brothers exchanged bewildered nces, clearly confused by this turn of events.


    Peter stepped forward and ripped the tape from the man’s mouth. He immediately let out an agonized cry, "Mr. Oscar Porter, help me!"


    The security guard’s desperate plea to Oscar Porter sent an electric current through the room. My heart hammered against my ribs as I watched the scene unfold with surgical precision, each detail etching itself into my memory. Winter sunlight streaming through massive windows, suddenly felt like a stage where a particrly vicious y was about to reach its climax.


    Peter loomed over him, his presencemanding and threatening. "Tell them exactly what you told mest night. Every detail."


    Carl’s eyes darted wildly around the room before fixing on Oscar’s stunned face. "I was paid to tamper with the railing at the Porter estate. The person who hired me imed to represent the Porter family."


    I maintained a mask of calm, though my stomach twisted itself into painful knots. The security guard’s words hung in the air like poison gas, slowly suffocating everyone in the room.


    That’s absurd!" Oscar leapt to his feet, face flushed with indignation. He rushed to my side, dropping to one knee beside my chair. "Anna, you can’t possibly believe this. Why would I ever want to hurt you?"


    I studied his face-the genuine horror, the pleading in his eyes. In my heart, I already knew Oscar was innocent.


    We’d grown up together, shared secrets, stood by each other through our darkest moments. Yet I forced myself to remain objective, to consider all possibilities.


    "I don’t have proof," Carl whispered, his voice cracking. "I never saw the person’s face. I just got a call, and money was wired to my ount."


    Logan stepped forward, his one good arm gesturing emphatically. "This is ridiculous! You’re using my family based on the word of a criminal?"


    The tension in the room thickened. I exchanged a subtle nce with Marcus, whose expression remained unreadable to everyone but me. I understood immediately what needed to happen next.


    "Jack, Samuel," I said calmly, "perhaps you should both leave now. This appears to be a matter involving the Porter family."


    Jack’s brow furrowed. "You’re asking us to leave? Just when things are getting interesting?"


    "This isn’t a spectacle for your entertainment," Marcus stated tly.


    Samuel rose with that predictable fake smile of his. "Of course. Family matters should be handled privately." His eyes lingered on me a moment too long, calcting and curious.


    The door closed behind them, and the atmosphere in the room became suffocating. I turned my gaze directly to Logan, who still stood protectively near his brother.


    "Logan," I said, my voice unnervingly steady even to my own ears. "Is there something you’d like to tell us?"


    He adjusted his sses nervously, forcing a smile. "Anna, Marcus hasn’t said anything. Why do you think it was me?"


    My response was quiet but devastating.


    "Wasn’t it?"


    The silence stretched like a rubber band ready to snap. Then Logan’s facade crumbled, his shoulders sagging in defeat.


    "Yes," he confessed, the word barely audible. "It was me."


    Oscar’s face drained of color. He stumbled backward as if physically struck, copsing into a nearby chair.


    "Logan... what the hell are you saying?"


    I fought to keep my faceposed while my insides felt like they were being shredded. My throat burned with unshed tears, and my fingernails dug painfully into my palms.


    "Why?" The question escaped my lips, hanging between us like a challenge.


    Marcus remained silent beside me, but I felt his presence like a physical support.


    Carl remained on his knees, head bowed low, no longer the focus of attention now that the true culprit had confessed.


    I looked at Logan—my childhood friend, the man who had saved my life only to reveal he’d been the one to endanger it-and asked the question that threatened to tear my heart in two:


    "Why would you do this to me?"


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