CHAPTER 19: GLASS & FIRE

Anna’s POV

The dim lighting of the upscale bar couldn’t mask my misery as I signaled the bartender for another drink. My third? Fourth? I’d lost count. The smooth jazz playing in the background felt like it was mocking my inner turmoil.

"Ms. Shaw, perhaps we should consider heading back," Rachel suggested from her position beside me, her voice carefully professional despite the concern in her eyes.

I ignored her, downing the amber liquid in one swift motion. The burn in my throat was a welcome distraction from the inferno of anger and hurt blazing inside me. This wasn’t my usual style Anna Shaw didn’t drink herself into oblivion in public. But tonight was different.

"Another," I demanded, sliding the empty glass forward.

Rachel frowned but didn’t argue. She’d been with me long enough to know when to push and when to stand back.

Tonight, her job was simple: keep the vultures away while I nursed my wounds with expensive whiskey.

This was the second time I looked like this. The first was when Jack asked Lucy to be the head of the Phoenix Project, and Jack and I had a big quarrel. I’d known then that I had to leave him. The divorce papers had been filed the following week.

And now, here I was again drowning my sorrows because Jack Simpson was still finding ways to wound me. Even divorced, even supposedly moving on with his life, he couldn’t let me have this one thing. He couldn’t bear to see me succeed without him.

"They want to take everything," I muttered, not caring if Rachel heard me. "My project. My technology. My dignity."

I took another sip, wincing at the burn. The bar had grown more crowded as the night wore on, businessmen loosening their ties, couples leaning into each other, everyone seeking connection or escape.

I envied their simplicity.

"Jack hates me that much," I continued, my voice rough. "He hates me enough to destroy something valuable just to see me lose."

Since taking over Shaw Corp after my father’s death, I’d faced countless challenges skeptical board members, condescending competitors, relentless market pressures. None of it had broken me. I’d fought through every obstacle with determination and strategy, never giving my opponents the satisfaction of seeing me crumble.

But Jack–" Jack knew exactly where to stick the knife. He understood that Phoenix wasn’t just another project; it was my vision for the future of Shaw Corp.

And he was willing to sacrifice it all just to put me in my place.

The alcohol was making my thoughts fuzzy around the edges, but the core hurt remained sharp and clear. In all the years I’d known him, I’d never imagined Jack could be so vindictive.

I’d been wrong.

"Ms. Shaw," Rachel’s voice cut through my thoughts. "I think we should go."

"Fine," I muttered. "One more drink."

Rachel nodded and stepped away, presumably to settle the tab.

I felt strong arms lifting me from the barstool. My first instinct was to resist, but my limbs felt heavy and uncooperative.

"Rachel?" I mumbled, assuming my assistant had returned and decided I needed more direct intervention.

There was no answer, just the steady movement as I was carried through what felt like the kitchen area toward a back exit. The sounds of the bar faded, replaced by the distant hum of traffic and the muffled noise of the city at night.

"Where are we going?" I slurred, trying to focus on the face above me.

The street lights were too bright, making me squint.

I clutched at the lapels of an expensive suit jacket, suddenly overwhelmed by emotion. All the frustration, hurt, and exhaustion I’d been holding back came rushing to the surface.

"It’s so hard," I confessed, my voice cracking. "So damn hard. I’m barely twenty, and I’m fighting all these battles alone." Tears pricked at my eyes, hot and unwelcome. "Nobody helps me. Nobody understands what I’m going through."

The person carrying me remained silent, but their arms tightened slightly, offering a strange kind of comfort.

"I’m so tired," I whispered, the fight draining out of me. My head dropped against a solid chest, and I frowned at the unyielding firmness I encountered.

"Rachel, where’s... where’s your chest? It’s... hard."

A strange, wild anger surged through me, fueled by alcohol and days of frustration. "I should go to Sean," I declared suddenly, my words slurring together. "Right now. I should go to him and..." I laughed, a bitter, reckless sound. "I’ll show them all how much I need him. We’ll have sex all night, and Jack can go to hell."

My head feels heavy, filled with lead, the alcohol turning everything into a blur of light and noise. The bed beneath me sways like I’m on a ship, and my limbs feel like they’ve been replaced with soaked fabric. I don’t remember getting here just flashes of streetlights, a stranger’s chest, the weight of exhaustion pressing me down.

Someone’s there. Not Rachel. Not Jack.

A man’s silhouette hovers above, blurry at the edges, his breath warm against my cheek. His hand brushes my thigh intentional, lingering. I flinch, but my body won’t respond fast enough. My muscles scream to move, to push back, but I’m slow, like I’m swimming through syrup.

"Stop," I manage, barely above a whisper.

He pauses, his hand retracting slightly. A tense silence follows. Then a deep voice not unfamiliar speaks.

"You don’t even know who you trust anymore, do you?"

It’s not a question. It’s a challenge. A knife turned slowly.

My eyes finally focus. Recognition is a jolt to the chest. My breath catches. It can’t be.

"You," I choke out.

He smirks, calm and composed. "You really think they care? Jack? Sean? They left you like this. But I didn’t."

My heart pounds, cold fear cutting through the alcohol.

"I should go to Sean," I blurt, desperately trying to shift the power back. "He’d know how to handle me. He wouldn’t leave me on the floor."

"You’re not going anywhere tonight," he replies, and not unkindly. He leans closer, his voice lowering. "You break, Anna. And then you pretend like you didn’t."

I stare at him. At the man I once thought of as irrelevant.

His hand brushes my hair back, tucking it behind my ear in a gesture that feels too intimate, too wrong. But I don’t stop him. I don’t know how.

"I’m not here to hurt you," he says. "But if you keep pretending none of this matters... someone else will."

The warning is clear.

I curl into myself, knees bent, arms crossed, trying to build a wall out of broken glass. "I’m tired," I whisper.

"I know."

Silence stretches between us, taut with unspoken things.

He doesn’t touch me again. Just sits there, close enough to feel, distant enough to burn.

And I realize: this isn’t safety.

It’s a different kind of danger.

One I let in.

Anna’s POV

I woke the next morning feeling like I’d been hit by a truck. Every muscle in my body ached, screaming in protest with even the slightest movement.

Rachel stood beside the bed, her face pale and stricken as she clutched a shopping bag. My dress from last night was crumpled in the trash like a discarded rag, far from the elegant designer piece it once was.

I pulled back the covers and stared at myself in horror. Bruises and marks painted across my skin like some twisted souvenir.

"What the hell...?"

"I’m so sorry, Ms. Shaw," Rachel said, her voice thick with guilt. "This is my fault. I shouldn’t have left you alone, even to pay the bill. I—"

"It’s not your fault," I interrupted firmly, tossing the covers aside and standing despite the pain. "Was it him again?"

Rachel’s eyes widened at the sight of my body. She quickly handed me a robe. "Most likely. I looked everywhere for you every hotel near the bar. I was about to call the police when someone sent me your hotel and room number from your phone. By the time I got there, he was already gone. The strangest thing? The bar’s security footage from last night is missing completely wiped."

Of course it was. That level of control, those methods... it had to be him again.

What the hell was going on? Was he addicted to sleeping with me or something?

I forced myself to calm down. Somehow, it hurt a little less this time. Maybe because I was emotionally numb to it by now. But I had no time to dwell. I had bigger things to deal with.

"I need to shower first," I said flatly, "then we’re going to my mother’s house."

Once the alcohol and confusion wore off, I knew I had to face reality. I wasn’t going to let the Simpsons manipulate my family with whatever lies they’d been spinning.

At Goldenleaf Manor, my mother greeted me with a brightness that only made my stomach sink. She was too happy.

"Anna, darling! You’re finally here!"

Jack had already made his move. I was sure of it.

But then she continued, eyes sparkling: "Marcus Murphy came by! He brought the most incredible gifts absolute treasures. I was overwhelmed!"

Marcus?

I blinked, taken aback. The living room was overflowing with gift boxes stacked like an exhibit. My mother hadn’t exaggerated they were extravagant. Excessively so.

"Uncle Marcus, you’re here," I greeted him, still stunned. "This is... really too generous."

Marcus Murphy had no real ties to our family, so this sudden gesture felt odd. During his last visit, he had mentioned dropping by again, but we all assumed it was just politeness.

"I haven’t visited in years," he replied smoothly. "Showing respect to my elders is the least I can do."

I wasn’t sure how my mother counted as his elder, but I let it slide. His intentions seemed good, and it wasn’t in me to be rude.

Mom wasted no time instructing the kitchen to prepare an elaborate lunch. The scale of Marcus’s gifts demanded something more than gratitude, and she wanted to reciprocate in whatever way she could.

I changed clothes and made tea myself, trying to show some gesture of appreciation. With some time before lunch and my grandmother and mother excusing themselves to rest, I found myself alone with Marcus.

It was awkward. I wasn’t good at small talk, especially not with someone like Marcus, who despite being young, held the intimidating presence of a man used to control.

Just when the silence was becoming unbearable, Marcus asked, "Still struggling with the company situation?"

The genuine concern in his voice nearly undid me. I’d hidden so much from my family how alone I’d felt since Dad passed, how suffocating the burden had become. And now someone was finally acknowledging it.

I managed a small smile. "Thank you for your concern, Uncle Marcus. I’ll handle it."

He was Jack’s uncle, after all. I couldn’t involve him in the fight with the Simpsons. I owed the Murphy family too much already.

Marcus’s gaze lingered on me, unreadable. Then he nodded, taking a sip of tea like the perfect gentleman. "If you need help, just say the word."

His words meant more than he realized. I envied Catherine a little. With someone like Marcus in her corner, it was no wonder she walked through life so confidently.

My family had no such protector. That’s exactly why the Simpsons treated us like we were expendable.

But those days were over.

"Thank you, Uncle Marcus. But this is something I have to do myself."

Lunch ended with my mother meticulously reviewing Marcus’s gift list. Her hands trembled as she read out loud, "A vintage brooch, a wristwatch, an antique tea set... and a box of natural pearls?"

The box of pearls was stunning flawless, glowing, nearly priceless. My mother was visibly enchanted, her inner girl reawakened.

"Let’s send a gift back to William," Grandmother said. "Something meaningful."

"William likes calligraphy, doesn’t he?" Mom added. "We have that painting set..."

I felt both touched and saddened. Only in recent years, thanks to my hard work at Shaw Corp, had our social standing begun to recover. The Murphys had never turned their backs on us. The rest? They’d only ever waited like vultures, hoping we’d crumble so they could pick apart what remained.

"I’ll handle it," I told them seriously. "By the way, if anyone from the Simpson family comes by, don’t entertain them. Especially Jack."

My mother tensed. "Did something happen?"

"Just some disagreements over Phoenix," I said lightly.

Their expressions darkened. They still hadn’t forgiven Jack for bringing Lucy into the project.

"If it’s about Phoenix, do what you need to," Grandmother said. "We won’t interfere."

That support meant everything.

Leaving Goldenleaf Manor, I felt renewed. Stronger.

I called Jack directly. It was time to end this.

He arrived quickly with Lucy clinging to his side.

"Come to your senses?" he asked smugly, like he already knew he’d won.

"I have," I replied coolly. "And this is the last time we’ll talk about Sean."

Jack blinked. I didn’t give him time to respond.

"First, Sean stays. He’s already uncovered crucial evidence, and I trust his abilities. I won’t fire him. Second, I agree to your second condition but I will not share Phoenix’s core technology with Simpson Group."

Jack’s smile faded.

"And lastly, if you can’t accept that, then our partnership is over."

Silence.

Lucy shifted beside him, her expression uneasy.

"You can’t be serious," Jack finally said, voice tight. "You’d sacrifice the entire Phoenix Project over some... some boy toy?"

I met his gaze without flinching. "Watch me."