CHAPTER 31: WARNING

Anna’s POV

The sudden chime of Marcus’s phone still echoed in my mind as I stared at him, momentarily frozen. My thoughts raced at impossible speed, trying to process what had just happened. It couldn’t be the timing was too perfect, too coincidental. I’d just texted my mystery lover, and Marcus’s phone had immediately chimed with a notification.

I forced myself to take a breath, to think logically. The room felt suddenly airless, the soft lamplight that had seemed comforting moments ago now felt exposing.

Marcus had picked up his phone casually, glancing at the screen with no particular reaction before setting it back down. Now he was answering another call, his voice low and measured despite his injury.

"It’s been handled," he said into the phone. "Peter will be here shortly."

He ended the call and turned his attention back to me. I realized I’d been standing motionless, still processing the impossible thought that had flashed through my mind. Could Marcus Murphy possibly be the same man I’d been meeting at the Sapphire Sky Hotel? The mysterious lover whose face I’d never clearly seen?

I mentally shook myself. That’s absurd. The timing of the notification could be pure coincidence. Besides, our first encounter at the hotel had happened before Marcus returned to America. The timeline simply didn’t add up. Relief washed over me.

Marcus’s penetrating gaze studied my face. I had the distinct feeling he could read every thought crossing my mind, every emotion flickering across my features.

"You’re concerned," he observed. It wasn’t a question.

I hesitated, wondering if I should voice my actual concerns or deflect.

"Those men who attacked you," I began carefully, "they’re not from Europe, are they? They won’t follow you here?"

A hint of something amusement, perhaps? flickered in his eyes. "No. They won’t be troubling you. This won’t bring danger to your doorstep."

I felt heat rising to my cheeks, embarrassed that he’d so easily seen through my polite inquiry to the real fear underneath. Oscar’s warnings echoed in my mind about Marcus’s powerful enemies, about the potential danger of harboring him.

"I’m not afraid of trouble," I clarified, lifting my chin slightly. "But I can’t afford complications right now. You know the Shaw family’s situation." I paused, vulnerability making my voice softer than I intended. "If anything happens to me, my grandmother and mother... they wouldn’t survive it.

Shaw Corp is all we have left."

Marcus’s expression remained unreadable. He nodded once, the gesture somehow conveying both understanding and reassurance more effectively than words could have.

"You should stay here for now," I said, making a swift decision. "At Rosa Villa, I mean. You certainly can’t return home in this condition William would be beside himself with worry." I gestured vaguely at the room around us. "This villa sits empty most of the time. Few people know about it.

It’s not much, but you could recuperate here without...

complications."

I expected him to refuse, to insist on returning to Murphy Estate, to remind me that a man of his resources had better options than hiding out in my spare property. Instead, his answer came without hesitation:

"All right."

The simple acceptance caught me off guard. I nodded, suddenly uncertain what to do next.

Before I could formulate a response, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway broke the silence. Marcus seemed unsurprised, as if he’d been expecting it.

"That would be Peter," he said. "And likely Joseph as well."

Half an hour later, I stood in the entryway of Rosa Villa, watching as Joseph and Peter entered. Peter looked largely unruffled his suit slightly creased but otherwise intact.

Joseph, on the other hand, looked like he’d been dragged backward through a hedge. His normally impeccable hair stuck out at odd angles, one sleeve of his designer jacket was partially torn, and there was a smudge of something dark on his collar that I sincerely hoped wasn’t blood.

"Anna!" Joseph greeted me with forced cheer, automatically reaching up to fix his disheveled hair. "Long time no see."

I arched an eyebrow at his appearance but refrained from commenting directly. "Joseph. Peter. Marcus is in the first guest room down the hall."

Joseph chuckled, straightening his tie or attempting to, since it was no longer properly attached to his collar.

"I’ve just recruited a new batch of young men at the club each one more handsome than the last. Even more stunning than your Sean. If you’d like a membership card, I’ll give you a twenty five percent discount."

"Joseph, please don’t joke about such things," I said, my tone cooling considerably. "I merely visited Olympus Club for a few drinks. Sean is a rare talent, and I value genuine ability. Those rumors about Sean are nothing but malicious gossip. He’s now an official employee of Shaw Corp, and I’d appreciate it if you could help clear his name rather than perpetuate false narratives."

Joseph’s eyes widened slightly, and he raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Understood, understood."

Something about his too easy acquiescence made me suspicious. Of course Joseph knew the truth. If Marcus was as thorough and intelligent as his reputation suggested, he would have investigated Sean’s background and my connection to him long ago. Which meant Joseph was deliberately teasing me testing my reaction, perhaps.

"You know," I said, deciding to return fire, "that disheveled look is quite distinctive on you, Joseph. If you ever decided to work the floor at Olympus Club yourself, you’d put all your employees out of business."

Joseph pointed at me, a genuine laugh escaping him. "Such a sharp tongue on you! let your Uncle Marcus deal with you."

Marcus’s POV

The door clicked shut behind Anna, her reluctant footsteps fading down the hallway. I shifted my position, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at the fresh stitches in my abdomen.

Peter had maintained his professional silence during Anna’s presence, but the moment she was out of earshot, he approached my bedside with urgency.

"Sir," he began, his voice low and crisp, "I followed the car as instructed.

Tracked it all the way to a residential area called Moonlight Cove."

I nodded for him to continue, my mind already racing ahead, cataloging possibilities and connections.

"The entire community is doing a great job of security," Peter continued, his usual stoic expression betraying a hint of frustration. "State-of-the-art security systems, private guards at every entrance. I couldn’t risk following them inside without being detected."

Joseph, who had been uncharacteristically quiet until now, suddenly perked up, unable to contain himself any longer.

"Moonlight Cove!" he exclaimed, gesturing expansively with his hands.

"One of the most exclusive residential communities in Skyview City. You practically need a background check just to drive past it these days. Real estate values have tripled there in the last five years alone. I tried to buy a place there myself, but I was too slow —"

"Joseph," I cut him off, not in the mood for his tangents. "Focus."

He cleared his throat, looking only slightly chastened. "Right. Well, the interesting thing is who lives there." His eyes gleamed with that particular mix of gossip and intrigue that often made him invaluable in my information network. "Your nephew Jack Simpson has a residence there. So do most of his friends-that whole crowd from Simpson Group."

"Jack Simpson?" I repeated, keeping my voice carefully neutral even as my mind rebelled against the implication.

Joseph let out a low whistle, studying my face with undisguised curiosity. "Well, well. Your own nephew wants you dead. Family drama at its finest.

I shot him a warning glance that silenced him immediately.

"We don’t know that," I said, forcing myself to consider all angles. "Let’s not jump to conclusions."

The possibility was absurd on its face. Jack and I had never been particularly close-my years in Europe had seen to that-but there had never been any significant animosity between us.

Nothing that would warrant an attempt on my life.

But then again, things had changed since my return. Anna. The Skylake mansion. The Phoenix Project. My very public intrusion into what Jack clearly still considered his territory.

I glanced down at my wound, assessing it with clinical detachment. The attack itself told a story-one thrust, non-fatal but debilitating. If the intent had been to kill me, the assailant had missed every vital organ.

"If they wanted me dead," I said slowly, "I would be. This wasn’t an assassination attempt."

"Then what was it?" Joseph asked, his customary flippancy momentarily replaced by genuine curiosity.

"A message, perhaps. A warning." I straightened slightly, ignoring the sharp pain the movement caused. "Or possibly the first move in a larger game."

Joseph gestured vaguely toward the ceiling. "What about your lovely Anna? Can she keep a secret?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth without my permission.

"She won’t say anything."

"You seem awfully confident," Joseph remarked, his eyebrows raised suggestively.

I ignored him, turning back to Peter.

"I’ll stay here for now. Return to Murphy Estate tomorrow morning.

When asked, tell them I’m taking a few days away on business. Nothing more."

Peter nodded once, his understanding complete. In the years he’d worked for me, we’d developed an unspoken language of our own. He knew exactly what information to share, what to withhold, and how to deflect any unwanted questions.

"Understood, Mr. Murphy."

When I I woke up the next day. My internal clock told me it was early—not yet seven.

I’d just managed to push myself into a sitting position when the door opened, revealing Oscar Porter with his medical bag.

"Good morning, Mr. Murphy," he greeted me with professional detachment. "Time to check those stitches."

I said nothing as he approached the bed and began unwrapping the bandages. His hands were skilled but not gentle applying just enough pressure to be uncomfortable without being painful.

"The wound is healing nicely," he commented, inspecting his handiwork. "No signs of infection. You’re lucky it wasn’t deeper."

"Luck had nothing to do with it," I replied.

Oscar’s eyes flicked up to mine, assessing. He seemed about to respond when footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Anna appeared in the doorway.

She hesitated at the threshold, her gaze sliding to my exposed abdomen before quickly averting to Oscar’s face.

"Uncle Marcus," she said. "I see Walker has left?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "He couldn’t stand being in the same clothes for more than eight hours."

A flicker of something-amusement, perhaps crossed her features before she sobered again, her brow creasing with concern. "I just realized we don’t have any clothes for you here." She twisted her hands slightly, a rare display of uncertainty. "I could ask Rachel to purchase some essentials?"

"That won’t be necessary," I told her. "Peter will handle it."

Oscar finished applying fresh bandages with a final, slightly aggressive pat to my abdomen. "There. All done." He packed his supplies back into his bag with quick, efficient movements. "The wound is superficial-just a clean slice through the abdominal wall. I’ve seen C-sections more traumatic than this."

He turned to Anna, his expression softening slightly. "He’ll be fine, Annie. No need to wear that worried

expression."

Then, with a sideways glance at me that could only be described as challenging: "Though I wonder if Mr.

Murphy here is planning on making this villa his permanent residence? "

Anna’s POV

I watched Oscar’s mouth-that perpetually moving instrument that never seemed to stop—and thought to myself that if he ever got punched one day, it would definitely be because of that troublesome thing.

"You’re talking nonsense. Marcus just doesn’t want William to worry," I countered, even as complicated emotions surged within me.

I hurriedly pushed Oscar toward the door, not even offering him breakfast.

My agitation made it impossible to tolerate his lengthy sermons any longer. "Alright, alright, you can go now. No need to come back unless there’s an emergency, and remember to keep your mouth shut."

Oscar looked annoyed as he reached out and pinched my cheek. His eyes brimmed with dissatisfaction.

"Throwing me under the bus now, are we? Consultation fee, surgical fee, medication fee, hush money-who’s going to settle up? You or your *Uncle Marcus*?"

"Fine, fine, fine." Guilt washed over me; he had genuinely helped us last night. I immediately pulled out my phone and transferred him money, hoping this would silence him. "There, satisfied? Now get out."

Oscar finally flashed a pleased smile, but at the doorway, he turned back and lowered his voice: "Keep your distance from that Marcus. If nothing else, his business is all in Europe. Are you going to abandon Shaw Corp to follow him there?"

His words made my chest tighten.

What was he even talking about? I didn’t have those kinds of feelings for Marcus-at least, that’s what I kept telling myself. I knew Oscar was concerned about me, afraid I’d get hurt again, so I forced myself to respond patiently: "You’re overthinking this.

I’m not looking to get involved with anyone right now, okay? I swear on my life."

"That’s more like it." Oscar nodded, then suddenly remembered something and pulled an object from his pocket, tossing it to me. "Saw this, thought it looked nice, so I bought it."

I caught it and looked—a remarkably elegant diamond bracelet. From the casual way he’d tossed it, I’d half expected a random pebble he’d picked up. My heart warmed at the unexpected gesture.

"This is a luxury item, and you didn’t even keep the packaging?" Despite my teasing complaint, the joy of receiving the gift made me smile. "I love it. Thanks."

"Whatever," Oscar dramatically rolled his eyes and turned to leave. "Only useful when you need me, forgotten when you don’t."

After watching him leave, Rosa Villa suddenly felt quiet. I held the bracelet, my emotions conflicted. Marcus’s return had left me uncertain how to behave. I was trying hard to maintain a polite distance, but somewhere deep inside, indefinable feelings stirred.

Not long after, Marcus emerged, freshly washed. When I saw the large hole cut in his shirt, I couldn’t help but smile. Last night, to treat his wound, Oscar had to cut open his clothes. Yet he seemed completely unfazed by it, his ease making me feel almost embarrassed for finding it amusing.

We ate the breakfast Rachel had bought. At the table, I tried to maintain a polite distance. "Uncle Marcus, the cook will be here later. I’ve already briefed her. She doesn’t know your identity-just tell her whatever you’d like to eat. I have a meeting this morning, so I can’t stay home to keep you company."

"Alright," he replied simply.

I sighed inwardly, pretending to be unfazed as I continued eating breakfast. I knew I was playing dumb, avoiding addressing his feelings for me.