CHAPTER 109: HEARTLESS, AM I?

Anna’s POV

I was drifting into sleep when my phone’s shrill ring cut through the darkness. An unknown number flashed across the screen. Frowning, I declined the call and set the phone down. Moments later, it rang again— same number. With an irritated sigh, I answered.

"Hello, are you Mrs. Simpson? Your husband is very intoxicated, and we need someone to pick him up," a polite male voice spoke.

"Jack Simpson?" I asked, propping myself up on my elbow, a wave of annoyance washing over me.

Before the man could respond, Jack’s voice boomed through the speaker:

"ANNA SHAW, YOU HEARTLESS WOMAN!"

I jerked the phone away from my ear, his drunken bellowing so loud I could picture him swaying on his feet. In the background, Calvin or Luke-I couldn’t tell which-was trying to calm him down.

"Don’t bother asking me to pick him up," I told the server coolly. "T’ll text you the Simpson family address. Call some drivers to take all three drunk men there."

After hanging up, I shook my head.

_Me, pick up Jack Simpson? What a joke._ I’d have to be out of my mind.

Then I remembered-I’d blocked his number before. He must have used someone else’s phone this time.

Without hesitation, I blocked this number too, then turned over to sleep, one hand instinctively resting on my growing belly.

I was drifting into sleep when my phone’s shrill ring cut through the darkness. An unknown number flashed across the screen. Frowning, I declined the call and set the phone down. Moments later, it rang again— same number. With an irritated sigh, I answered.

"Hello, are you Mrs. Simpson? Your husband is very intoxicated, and we need someone to pick him up," a polite male voice spoke.

"Jack Simpson?" I asked, propping myself up on my elbow, a wave of annoyance washing over me.

Before the man could respond, Jack’s voice boomed through the speaker:

"ANNA SHAW, YOU HEARTLESS WOMAN!"

I jerked the phone away from my ear, his drunken bellowing so loud I could picture him swaying on his feet. In the background, Calvin or Luke—I couldn’t tell which-was trying to calm him down.

"Don’t bother asking me to pick him up," I told the server coolly. "I’ll text you the Simpson family address. Call some drivers to take all three drunk men there."

After hanging up, I shook my head.

_Me, pick up Jack Simpson? What a joke. I’d have to be out of my mind.

Then I remembered-I’d blocked his number before. He must have used someone else’s phone this time.

Without hesitation, I blocked this number too, then turned over to sleep, one hand instinctively resting on my growing belly.

- - -

"Oh my God, your grandfather’s estate is absolutely gorgeous. No wonder it was preserved as a historical site with admission tickets. You must have spent a fortune — it looks completely rebuilt," Catherine exclaimed, spinning slowly to take in the grand foyer of Brown Manor.

"It practically was rebuilt. Mom and Grandma Margaret will move here for the summer in a few days. I’m just checking if anything’s still missing."

Catherine clicked her tongue in admiration. "Missing? Of course something’s missing-people! This place would feel creepy with too few people living in it. Tell Elizabeth I’ll move in to keep her company. Save me a room with good lighting."

"Go pick one right now," I laughed.

We spent the next hour touring the estate.

Later, we rested in a lakeside gazebo where a gentle breeze carried the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers. Catherine sighed contentedly, tilting her face toward the sun.

"This place is too perfect. Once this area is developed, Brown Manor will become the most expensive and beautiful estate in all of Skyview City."

I nodded absently, my thoughts drifting to Marcus Murphy and how his influence had already doubled Brown Manor’s value. The memory of our last encounter sent a peculiar ache through my chest, one I’d been trying to ignore.

"By the way," Catherine interrupted my reverie, "has Uncle Marcus contacted you recently?"

"No," I replied, my heart inexplicably speeding up. "Why would he?"

Catherine shrugged. "He hasn’t contacted us either. It’s strange-last year he came back frequently, and I finally felt like he was part of the Murphy family. But now... it’s been months without a word."

I remained silent, watching sunlight dance across the lake’s surface, unwilling to examine why her words left me feeling hollow.

---

Our peaceful afternoon shattered when Rachel rushed toward us, my phone in her hand, her face tight with concern.

"Ms. Shaw, there’s an emergency at the construction site," she said, her voice clipped and professional despite the urgency.

"What happened?" Catherine asked before I could speak.

"A worker fell from the scaffolding onto an upright steel bar. It went straight through his abdomen." Rachel’s words came rapidly. "He’s been taken to the hospital, but his condition is unknown."

Catherine’s face drained of color, her hand flying to her mouth. I understood her fear—a death at the start of construction would be catastrophic for Paradise Valley Estates future.

"Where’s Daniel?" I asked, standing immediately.

"Still at the site. He suspects foul play and has called the police."

My brows knitted together. "No one went to the hospital with the worker?"

"Daniel sent Sean."

A decision crystallized in my mind.

"Call Sean. Tell him the worker cannot die-use every possible means.

Clayton, get the car. We’re going to the hospital."

At the hospital, we nearly collided with Sean rushing out, his clothes alarmingly bloodstained. Rachel caught his arm. "Where are you going? Ms. Shaw is here."

Sean turned, surprise flashing across his face. "Ms. Shaw, the worker’s in surgery. The blood bank is critically low, and the transport vehicle is stuck in traffic due to an accident. I was going to meet them."

I glanced at his leg, noticing the slight favoring of his weight. "Which hospital is the blood coming from? Rachel will go instead."

"What did the doctors say?" I asked, trying not to fixate on the dark stains covering his shirt. "Is his life in danger?"