CHAPTER 133: UNWELCOME EYES

Anna’s POV

"Mine." The word left my lips with more confidence than I felt. I met Logan’s gaze directly, desperately trying to appear unfazed while my heart pounded a thunderous rhythm against my ribcage.

His expression shifted from shock to suspicion, eyes narrowing behind his frames. "Marcus Murphy? Or Samuel Griffin?" His voice carried an edge that sent an involuntary chill crawling up my spine.

’That’s none of your business." I kept my tone even, but a flicker of unease sparked in my chest. Logan had always been unpredictable when it came to me. I caught Clayton’s eye across the room, subtly signaling him to approach.

Logan stepped closer, his cologne suddenly overwhelming. "I’m willing to be the children’s father."

"What?" The question escaped before I could compose myself. Had I heard him correctly?

"Your children need a father. I’m willing to take that responsibility." His voice was steady, confident, as if he’d just offered to pick up coffee rather than commit to a lifetime of parenting.

My mind whirled with confusion.

Logan Porter—heir to the Porter fortune-offering to father children that weren’t his? Was this pity? Some bizarre power play? Either way, I didn’t need his charity.

"No, my children don’t need a father." I stood my ground, though inwardly I marveled at the absurdity of this entire conversation.

Clayton materialized beside us, his firm grip closing around Logan’s arm. "Mr. Porter, you’ve had too much to drink.

Let me walk you to your car."

Logan didn’t resist, but his eyes remained locked on mine. "I’m not joking, Anna. I’m truly willing to be the father of your children. Please consider it."

I watched him being led away, a mixture of irritation and bewilderment churning in my stomach.

Catherine appeared at my elbow, her eyebrows arched with amusement.

"Another one volunteering to be daddy? I’m shocked!"

"Logan doesn’t seem to be joking. This is not good, I need to figure something out." I massaged my temple, then caught the implication of her words.

"What do you mean ’another one?

Who else?"

She flashed a mischievous smile.

"Nobody. My mom was just gossiping yesterday about someone from her side of the family." Her evasiveness was obvious, but I’m not in the mood to ask.

I approached a visibly pregnant woman standing near the champagne fountain.

"How far along are you?" I asked, deliberately loud enough for nearby guests to hear.

"Seven months," she replied, surprised at my directness.

"I’m just at five months," I said, resting a hand on my belly. "I’ve scheduled a detailed anatomy scan for next week.

Have you done that yet? Is there anything I should know about the procedure?"

Our conversation continued, and I could feel curious eyes watching us.

Let them stare. Let them whisper. This was my choice, and I was proud of it.

---

Back at Shaw Estate, Betty had prepared a nutritious dinner that actually tasted delicious. I savored each bite, grateful for the quiet evening after the chaos of the reception.

"The babies are developing perfectly,"

Betty reassured me, noticing my hand constantly returning to my stomach.

"You have nothing to worry about."

But worry I did. Would my twins be healthy? Would I be a good mother?

Would they resent growing up without a father? Questions swirled endlessly until sleep finally claimed me.

ーーー

The following morning, Oscar and Doris Porter arrived unannounced at Shaw Estate. Oscar barged in with his typical lack of grace, eyes immediately dropping to my midsection.

"So you’re really pregnant?" His exaggerated surprise made me roll my eyes.

Anna’s POV

"You didn’t notice yesterday?" I countered, amused by his theatrics.

He shrugged dramatically. "Why would I be staring at your stomach?

Are you really pregnant or just putting on weight?" His hand reached out toward my belly.

I slapped it away immediately. "Don’t touch." Despite my stern tone, I felt a rush of affection for Oscar. At least he still treated me like a friend, not a fragile porcelain doll.

He grinned, giving me a thumbs up.

"You’re incredible. No wonder my brother came home yesterday acting like he’d lost his mind."

Once we were seated in the living room, I turned to Doris with genuine concern. "Mrs. Porter, please talk some sense into Logan. He says he doesn’t mind being the father of my children."

Shock flashed across Doris’s face.

Though she’d always been fond of me, I knew accepting me as the mother of her supposed grandchildren was completely different.

"Don’t worry, Anna. I’ll beat some sense into that foolish son of mine when I get home," she assured me, indignation coloring her voice. "He has no idea how to properly court a woman, and now he’s embarrassing himself with this desperate behavior."

As I watched Doris march determinedly toward her car minutes later, I felt relief wash over me.

As I watched Doris march determinedly toward her car minutes later, I felt relief wash over me.

The following week, after a lengthy ultrasound session at the hospital, I treated myself to lunch at restaurant.

I had just settled into my booth when I spotted Jack entering with a woman.

The ultrasound images were still fresh in my mind as I settled into the corner booth at restaurant. Both babies developing beautifully—perfect spines, strong heartbeats, even little fists that occasionally punched at the probe. I couldn’t help but smile, gently rubbing my now-prominent belly beneath my loose cashmere sweater.

Can I get you anything else, Ms. Shaw?" the waiter asked, setting down my sparkling water.

"The chef’s salad and the wild mushroom soup, please," I replied, suddenly ravenous after the lengthy appointment. Pregnancy hunger was no joke, especially with twins.

As the waiter departed, movement at the entrance caught my eye. Jack Simpson was escorting a woman to a table—not just any woman, but Sierra Turner.

_What an unexpected pairing.-

I tilted my head slightly, studying them from my discreet corner. Sierra was Calvin Turner’s younger sister, a well-known figure in Skyview City’s social scene, though usually on the periphery of major events. While she and Jack would naturally cross paths given their social circles, I’d never noticed any particular connection between them.

When did they get so comfortable with each other?_ I took a bite of bread, my mind spinning through possibilities.

My booth afforded me the perfect vantage point—1 could observe them clearly while remaining invisible behind a large decorative plant. Not that I particularly cared about Jack’s romantic life anymore, but human curiosity is hard to suppress.

I was just about to refocus on my own meal when the restaurant doors swung open again. Lucy Taylor stood in the entrance, her eyes scanning the dining room with laser-like intensity.

Well, this just got interesting. I set down my fork, completely abandoning my salad in favor of the unfolding drama.

Sierra’s POV

I smiled as Jack pulled out my chair at the restaurant, admiring how his gray suit complemented his eyes. Our lunch date had been in the works for over a week, and I’d spent an extra hour this morning making sure my appearance was perfect.

"Thank you for suggesting this place," I said, smoothing my napkin across my lap. "It’s been ages since I’ve been here."

The waiter had just poured our water when I caught a flash of movement from the corner of my eye. Lucy Taylor was striding toward our table with determined purpose, her expression a masterpiece of tabricated surprise.

"Jack, what a coincidence!" she exclaimed, turning to me with practiced politeness. "Hello, Miss Turner. I didn’t expect to see you two here."

My teeth clenched behind my carefully maintained smile. Coincidence, my ass.

Lucy’s "accidental" appearance was about as random as sunrise.

"What a surprise indeed," I replied, my voice cool as winter glass. "I almost wonder if you’ve got a tracking device on Jack."

Lucy immediately shifted into her favorite role-the wounded innocent.

Her eyes widened slightly, lips parting in an expression of vulnerability so calculated it made my skin crawl.

"Jack, I’m not stalking you," she said softly. "I’m just shopping with a friend.

Please, continue your meal. My friend is waiting for me over there." She gestured vaguely toward a table near the window.

Jack followed her gaze, and I watched with mounting horror as his expression softened. "If you haven’t eaten yet, why don’t you and your friend join us?"

The knife in my hand suddenly felt like a potential weapon. I set it down carefully.

"Jack," I said, unable to keep the edge from my voice, "you invited ME to lunch today. Why are you asking them to join us?" My chest tightened with humiliation. This was supposed to be our date.

His response cut deeper than any knife could have. "Inviting you to lunch or inviting Lucy to lunch, it’s all the same to me."

All the same. Like I was interchangeable. Replaceable. My cheeks burned as I watched Lucy’s lips curve into a victorious smile.

’Thank you, Jack," she said sweetly, waving her friend over with a flick of her manicured fingers.

The next thirty minutes were excruciating. Lucy positioned herself beside Jack while her mousy friend sat next to me. They dominated the conversation with inside jokes and references I couldn’t possibly understand, effectively creating a wall that left me isolated despite sitting at the same table.

I picked at my salad, appetite vanished, watching Lucy touch Jack’s arm for emphasis every few minutes.

Each contact felt like a deliberate jab at my dignity.

"Jack, isn’t that Anna over there?"

Lucy suddenly asked, tugging on his sleeve like an eager child.

We all turned to see Anna Shaw leaving the restaurant, accompanied by an elegant older woman I didn’t recognize.

"This place is close to the hospital," Lucy added casually. "Anna must be here for a prenatal checkup."

Something inside me snapped. The accumulated humiliation of the lunch, combined with seeing Anna walking confidently through the restaurant despite her scandalous pregnancy, broke my last thread of restraint.

"What a shameless woman," I scoffed, my voice carrying farther than I’d intended. "Who knows which random man’s baby she’s carrying. Acting like she’s some queen while being so promiscuous."

Lucy’s gasp sounded rehearsed. "Miss Turner, how can you say that about Anna? You’re a woman too."