CHAPTER 113: PRICE OF SECRETS

Anna’s POV

My lips curved into a cold smile. "I doubt I’m wrong. Marcus warned me about this before." The mention of his name sent an unwelcome pang through my chest. "You’ve been living at the construction site personally overseeing everything, yet this still happened. It’s nearly impossible to prevent. Well, we can’t guard against thieves forever-since they’ve made their move, we’ll respond accordingly."

Looking at Daniel’s haggard face, I softened. "I’ve got the company covered. You should go rest."

He shook his head stubbornly. "I think I should make another trip to the police station."

The door opened as Sean entered, his gaze briefly dropping to my belly before meeting my eyes. "Let me go instead. Daniel should stay at the company. I’ll handle the police station and construction site."

Daniel’s relief was palpable as he nodded. "Alright, thank you for taking this on."

Rachel chimed in from the doorway.

"Then I’ll go to the hospital."

I looked at my team organizing themselves so efficiently and couldn’t help but smile. "Well, you’ve all assigned yourselves nicely." My tone was light, but my gratitude ran deep.

ーーー

By afternoon, I was wading through paperwork when Sean called with news that made my pulse quicken.

"The police found evidence," he reported without preamble. "Lucius’s accident wasn’t accidental—it was deliberately caused."

My grip tightened on the phone. "Go on."

"During their investigation, they discovered that one of Lucius’s close friends—a coworker-disappeared right after the accident," Sean explained. "According to other workers, they were high school classmates who came to work together and usually worked side by side."

"Where is he now?" I asked, feeling the pieces click into place.

"Vanished. His luggage is gone too.

After canvassing the area, no one knows where he went." Sean’s voice darkened. "Police immediately issued an arrest warrant, but currently have no leads on his whereabouts."

"Does Lucian know about this?"

"Yes," Sean sighed. "He’s furious. Said someone must have paid the guy to do it. That his family was poor, no girlfriend yet. Kept saying his brother always treated the suspect like family."

Pax’s POV

I stood in George Simpson’s office, shifting my weight from one foot to the other as sweat trickled down my spine. George sat behind his desk, his expression completely unreadable as I delivered my report.

"He ran?" George asked, his voice unnervingly calm.

I swallowed hard, feeling my collar tighten around my throat. "Yes, sir.

The guy was a coward-took off right after it happened. The police have already started searching for him." My voice betrayed me, wavering slightly on the last few words.

George dropped the file he was holding onto his desk. The sharp *thwack* made me flinch. "Certainly lacking in courage. If he could have just delayed for two days... Never mind."

My mind raced frantically. Was he disappointed? Angry? I couldn’t read him at all, and that terrified me more than any outburst would have.

"Mr. Simpson, what should we do now?" I ventured cautiously. "I’ve sent someone to gather information at the hospital, but the medical staff are tight-lipped. I believe the worker is still alive." The words felt bitter in my mouth-hoping for a man’s recovery while simultaneously dreading what he might reveal.

George’s eyes shifted to the window, his focus seemingly miles away. "How long before they can resume construction at Paradise Valley Estates?"

I blinked, momentarily thrown by the change in subject. "Ms. Shaw is already taking action. If that worker— Lucius Cox—regains consciousness, they can immediately close the case.

The police report should come out quickly after that, and construction could resume in four or five days at the earliest."

George nodded slowly. "All in all, the construction will be halted for about ten days. That’s sufficient."

What exactly was sufficient about a ten-day delay? Was this part of some larger plan I wasn’t privy to?

"Where’s Jack?" he asked suddenly.

The question hit me like a slap. "I don’t know, sir. I haven’t seen him."

Jack’s POV

The sunlight stabbed through the curtains like needles into my brain. I groaned, rolling away from the offensive brightness. My head pounded with a steady, merciless rhythm.

"Damn it, what time is it..."

I fumbled for my phone on the nightstand, squinting at the harsh blue light. 6 PM. Jesus Christ. I’d slept the entire day away.

As my vision cleared, I finally registered my surroundings. This wasn’t my bedroom at the Simpson estate—I was in what used to be our marital bedroom. *Our* bedroom.

Anna’s and mine. The realization hit harder than the hangover. Memories from last night flooded back-finding the hidden liquor cabinet still stocked with the expensive whiskey Anna never touched, drinking until the edges of my pain blurred enough to let me sleep.

Scrolling through missed calls and messages, a video popped up. Anna at the hospital, standing before a swarm of reporters. Despite her visible exhaustion and that rounded belly carrying another man’s child, she radiated authority and conviction. The sight of her simultaneously ignited relief and despair in my chest.

"She’s... already out of trouble?"

I sat upright despite my throbbing head. Of course she’d handled it. Anna always fixed her own problems-she never needed me to rescue her, not then, not now.

"Why does it always end up like this..." I muttered, tossing my phone onto the tangled sheets.

Fate seemed determined to ensure I was always absent when Anna needed support, always missing opportunities, always one step behind. I dragged myself to the shower, letting scalding water beat against my skin, wishing it could wash away my regrets as easily as last night’s alcohol.

---

The Simpson mansion loomed before me. My footsteps were leaden as I pushed open the heavy oak door, the scent of dinner wafting from the dining room. Through the archway, I could see my father George, my mother Mary, and Lucy Taylor seated around the polished table.

Lucy immediately rose, her face lighting up with practiced warmth.

"Jack, you’re back."

She reached for my coat, glancing toward my parents, she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You should freshen up first. If Mr. Simpson sees you like this, he’ll be upset."

I snatched my coat back from her fingers.

Behind me, my mother’s voice drifted into the foyer. "Why isn’t he coming to dinner?"

Lucy’s response was sugar-coated perfection. "Mrs. Simpson, Jack is a bit tired. He’s going to shower and change first. The kitchen is keeping his meal warm, so you and Mr. Simpson should eat first."

My mother’s satisfied reply followed me up the stairs. "Lucy is always so thoughtful and attentive."