CHAPTER 148: THE DECOY

Rachel’s POV

Night had finally fallen completely.

Marcus and I sat in a black sedan not far from the mansion, silently observing our surroundings. I felt nervous.

Marcus turned to me, his eyes reflecting trust and expectation. "You’ll approach the gate."

Those simple words filled me with a sense of responsibility. I took a deep breath and nodded calmly. This was the first step in our plan, and I had to execute it perfectly.

"Leave it to me," I said quietly, my fingers unconsciously tightening on the edge of my jacket before deliberately relaxing them. "T’ll draw their attention."

The moment I left the car, the cold night air hit my face. I walked alone toward the imposing iron gates, each step firm and determined. As I pressed the intercom button, my heart raced, but I deliberately maintained a composed expression.

After the intercom buzz, I watched a security guard approach from inside, wearing an expression that suggested he’d been expecting me. This made my heart sink-had our plan already been exposed? No, I couldn’t overthink this.

What mattered now was completing my task.

"I’m here to see my boss. Open the gate," I said bluntly, my voice carrying a commanding tone.

The corner of the guard’s mouth curled into a contemptuous smile.

"Who’s your boss? Don’t know him.

Get lost."

His attitude infuriated me, but this was exactly the reaction I wanted. I needed them to think I was just an unreasonable woman causing trouble, not a calculated infiltrator. I grabbed the iron gate and shook it forcefully, the metal clanging loudly in the quiet night.

"Let me in! I know he’s in there!" I raised my voice, staring directly at the guard.

The guard inside was amused by my behavior, laughing even more freely.

"Let me tell you something every inch of this perimeter wall is electrified. Try anything else, and you’ll regret it."

I mentally noted this information—all walls electrified, useful for our plan.

Outwardly, I feigned panic, immediately releasing the gate as if frightened by his threat.

"Look how quickly she backs down," the guard observed my reaction, his mockery growing louder. "Thought you were tough, but women are all the same—weak and afraid to die."

His words stung, but I knew this was exactly what our plan required –for them to underestimate me. I felt anger building in my chest, but I suppressed it, channeling it into fuel for the next phase.

Another guard walked over, impatiently waving his hand. "Get out of here. Your boss isn’t here."

I stood my ground, deliberately showing an expression of internal conflict. Inside, I was calmly counting the seconds-Marcus should be ready by now.

"You won’t open the gate, then?" My voice suddenly turned cold, my eyes conveying resolution. "Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn you."

As I turned away, I felt a strange sense of relief. Finally, I could stop pretending and begin the real operation. I quickly got into the car, started the engine, feeling the vibration beneath the seat.

The guards were still mocking me, but when I floored the accelerator and the car lurched straight toward the iron gates, their laughter abruptly ceased.

The engine roared, my heartbeat synchronizing with it. The first impact nearly made me dizzy, but I gripped the steering wheel tightly, feeling an odd sense of calm.

"You crazy woman! You think this car can break down these gates?" The guard’s voice finally carried a note of panic.

I smiled coldly without answering, only pressing the accelerator again, preparing for a second ram. This was all according to plan—my goal was never to actually break through the gate, but to create chaos and draw more guards to the entrance.

"Someone get over here! She’s ramming the gate!" Just as I expected, more security personnel were being drawn to the commotion.

George’s POV

I was examining real estate documents in my study, my head of security, burst in without knocking.

"Mr. Simpson, there’s someone causing trouble at the gate."

My pen froze mid-signature. "Who is it?" I demanded, my mind racing to our "guests" upstairs.

"Just a woman, sir. She’s trying to ram the gate with her car."

I set down my fountain pen, tension melting from my shoulders. "Just one woman?"

"Yes, sir. It’s that assistant who works for Ms. Shaw."

A laugh bubbled in my throat. That pathetic little rescue attempt was the best they could manage? Anna Shaw’s loyal lapdog thought she could storm my fortress alone? How utterly amusing.

’Take care of it. Make sure she leaves," I instructed, turning back to my papers. "And make sure our perimeter remains secure. I don’t want any...

unexpected visitors."

After he left, I found myself unable to concentrate. The words on the contract blurred before my eyes as my thoughts kept circling back to Anna Shaw. The woman had been eerily composed since her arrival-too composed for someone effectively being held hostage.

The foolish girl thought she could wait me out? She hadn’t even attempted to negotiate for Skylake. I’d expected tears, pleading, perhaps even desperate bargaining. Instead, I got that infuriating calm.

_Time to change tacties._

I buzzed for my housekeeper. "Tell Ms. Shaw I wish to speak with her in the main parlor. Now."

I positioned myself in my favorite armchair, legs crossed casually, projecting an image of complete control. The ticking of the grandfather clock echoed through the room as I waited, each second ratcheting up my impatience.

Anna entered with regal poise despite her swollen belly. No fear, no panic just that calculating gaze that reminded me uncomfortably of William Murphy. She’d clearly learned from the master.

"Anna," I began, injecting concern into my voice, "your mother hasn’t eaten anything all day. I’m concerned about her health."

I expected this to crack her composure -Elizabeth had always been her weakness. But Anna simply looked at me, her expression impassive.

"My mother only appears fragile, Mr. Simpson," she replied coolly. "She’s actually quite stubborn. I’m sure she won’t eat anything served in this house."

I felt the barest hint of a smile threatening to surface. She was good-using her mother’s well-being against me rather than the other way around.

"Going without food for a day isn’t a big deal," she continued with maddening calm. "I’m sure you’ve had someone bring her something to eat.

Don’t worry, my mother values her life too much. If she gets too hungry, she’ll eat."

My carefully constructed strategy collapsed like a house of cards.

Elizabeth was supposed to be my leverage, my ace. Instead, Anna had neatly neutralized the threat with a few carefully chosen words.

"Is that all you wanted to talk about?" she asked, already turning away. "If there’s nothing else, Ill go back upstairs."

I opened my mouth to stop her, but no words came.