CHAPTER 143: YOU’LL ALLOW IT

I directed my final words at Mary, making sure each syllable carried the weight of my threat. "Beautiful women being harassed by men is never the woman’s fault. And Mary-I suggest you control your tongue, unless you want someone to slap you in public."

"Rachel, release her," I commanded coldly, watching as Mary Simpson was finally freed from Rachel’s grip.

Though she no longer hurled insults, her eyes burned with enough hatred to incinerate both Elizabeth and me on the spot. I couldn’t care less about her glare as I gently took my mother’s arm, feeling the slight tension in her body.

"Let’s say goodbye to Harper and leave," I said softly to Elizabeth, vanting to remove her from this unpleasant situation.

Elizabeth hesitated, her brow furrowing with concern. "Wouldn’t it be impolite to leave so soon? People might think..." Her voice trailed off, clearly worried about Skyview City’s inevitable gossip.

I squeezed her hand reassuringly. "It doesn’t matter. Why stay somewhere that makes you unhappy? Let’s go home." My tone left no room for argument—I just wanted to get her away from here. Yet internally, I calculated that Mary Simpson was the real loser today—publicly restrained by my security and threatened by me.

How could her pride possibly recover?

Sure enough, Mary soon departed with Lucy in tow without saying goodbye to anyone, George following shortly after.

With those irritants gone, Elizabeth and I decided to stay, our mood considerably lightened.

During dinner, I noticed Elizabeth had relaxed somewhat. "That George Simpson is so rude, bothering you alwanys," I said.

She nodded, but I knew this wasn’t simple rudeness. During my entire marriage to Jack, George never mentioned any history with my mother. Why bring it up now? Unease settled in my heart like a cold stone.

Days later, Catherine confirmed my suspicions. "Mary threw a huge fit when they got home. She’s staying at Murphy Estate now."

My heart sank. Despite Elizabeth’s public explanation, rumors spread like wildfire through Skyview City’s elite circles.

"Elizabeth was George’s old flame..."

"Elizabeth is intruding on George and Mary’s marriage..." "Like mother, like daughter—Shaw women set their sights on Simpson men..."

These vicious whispers wounded me deeply. I decided to protect Elizabeth from this cruelty. "Stay home from social events for a while," I told her, my voice gentle but firm.

Elizabeth seemed to understand without explanation. "I’d rather stay home anyway. Helping with the nursery sounds perfect." Her expression was calm, but I caught the hint of sadness in her eyes.

August 30th arrived-my twenty-fifth birthday. Due to my pregnancy, I kept the celebration small, inviting only my closest friends to Shaw Estate.

"Anna, happy birthday!" Catherine embraced me carefully, avoiding my protruding belly.

"Thanks, be careful," I laughed, looking around at my intimate gathering-Oscar Porter, Samuel Griffin, Nora Price, and my trusted colleagues Daniel Davis and Sean Smith. This simple celebration was exactly what I wanted.

After dinner, Lily approached with an uncomfortable expression. "Ms. Shaw, Mr. Porter is outside. He’s been waiting for quite some time."

Oscar cleared his throat. "Logan mentioned something this morning. I think he brought you a gift."

My chest tightened. Since rejecting Logan’s offer, I’d avoided him completely. After a moment’s consideration, I instructed Lily: "Please tell Mr. Porter to go home."

Oscar awkwardly rubbed his nose, saying nothing more, while Samuel teased, "Ms. Shaw really has a heart of stone."

I merely smiled in response, though internally I thought:_Perhaps, but some boundaries, once crossed, can never be restored._

Considering my condition, my friends departed early. After showering, I checked my phone to find a message from an unknown number:

(Happy Birthday.)

Among the many birthday wishes Id received, this one from an unknown sender made my heart skip.

Instinctively, I knew it was from "3303," the man I’d blocked. His concise style was unmistakable.

As I debated responding, another message appeared:

[Tell Rachel to open the door.]

I nearly dropped my phone, staring at those three simple words on the screen.

My heart slammed against my ribs like it was trying to escape my chest. With trembling fingers, I hastily wrapped myself in my silk robe, not even bothering to call Lily for assistance.

My damp hair clung to my neck as I rushed downstairs, leaving wet footprints across the polished hardwood floors.

Clayton, Rachel, and Sean sat in the living room, their conversation about today’s security arrangements stopping abruptly when they saw me.

"Ms. Shaw, is everything alright?" Clayton rose immediately, his brow furrowed with concern.

I couldn’t form words. My mind was already outside, beyond those heavy oak doors. Without responding, I pushed past them and hurried through the garden, my bare feet padding along the stone pathway. The cool morning air prickled against my skin, but I barely noticed.

And then I saw him.

Marcus Murphy stood at the edge of my property, wearing black casual clothes instead of his customary tailored suits. A leather suitcase rested by his feet, and fatigue lined his face.

He looked nothing like the polished, untouchable Murphy scion—he looked like a man who had traveled through the night without rest.

"Mr. Murphy?" Rachel’s voice behind me was pitched with shock as she rushed forward to open the gate.

Marcus stepped onto the property with his usual self-assured stride, stopping directly in front of me. His lips curved into that familiar half-smile that always made my stomach flip.

"I was handling some business," he said, his deep voice resonating through my body. "Thought I’d stop by since it’s close. Just to check on you."

I stared at him, speechless. We had mutually ended whatever undefined relationship we’d had. We had returned to being strangers—at least that’s what I’d believed. So what was this? What was he doing?

His gaze dropped to my midsection, lingering on the pronounced curve of my six-month pregnant belly.

Something flickered in his eyes-an emotion too complex to name, too quick to analyze.

"Your hair is still wet. You shouldn’t be outside like this," he said, his tone gently scolding.

Before I could respond, he bent down and lifted me into his arms with effortless strength. I heard Rachel’s sharp intake of breath behind us, saw Sean’s eyebrows shoot toward his hairline. Yet somehow, I wasn’t surprised-this was exactly the kind of thing Marcus Murphy would do.

He carried me back into the house, past the stunned faces of my staff.

Their expressions all asked the same silent question: _What is he doing here again?_

When he finally set me down on the living room’s leather sofa, I found my voice again. I pulled my robe tighter around myself, trying to project a composure I didn’t feel.

"Did you come back specifically for my birthday?" I asked, my words escaping before I could filter them.

Marcus’s POV

Of course I had. I’d been planning this day for months, meticulously arranging my schedule, then leaving Peter and my entire team overseas to return alone. Right now, nobody except the Shaw household knew I was back in Skyview City. Warmth surged through me, though my exterior remained composed.

"If I say no, will I be sleeping on the street tonight?" I said with half a smile, then surveyed the room, my voice dropping lower. "Don’t tell anyone I’m back. Not even the Murphy family."

The staff nodded dutifully. Rachel, Clayton, and Sean all gave their solemn promises, though I could tell they found my behavior unusual-like a fugitive returning home. I couldn’t give them the full truth, nor did I want Anna to worry.

Anna’s gaze sharpened. "Has something happened?"

Looking into her concerned eyes made something sotten inside me. It 1 disappeared suddenly again like before, this stubborn woman would likely explode and never let me close again. When I’d maintained my distance over the years, Id somehow managed. But once you’ve touched what you desire, letting go becomes impossible. These past months had been agonizingly long.

"Rivals have been watching me closely.

I was careful coming back-changed vehicles twice," I said casually, omitting how I’d transited through a neighboring country due to security concerns. No need to tarnish her image of me as collected and confident.

Anna looked directly at me. "So you came back specifically for my birthday?"

"Yes," I answered without hesitation, noticing the slight twitch of her eyebrow.

She appeared remarkably composed as she turned to Rachel. "Please have the kitchen prepare something for Marcus, and ready a guest room."

"Which room, Ms. Shaw?" Rachel asked.

"The third floor," Anna replied.

I couldn’t help but notice that previous guests at Shaw Estate typically stayed in first-floor guest rooms. The third floor was closer to her master bedroom —a realization that kindled a flicker of

hope in my chest.

Anna addressed me again. "Uncle Marcus, please freshen up. I need to change." She was still in her robe, hardly appropriate for receiving guests.

I raised an eyebrow, surprised by her practical response. I’d never considered myself an outsider here, so I stood up.

"I’ll walk you upstairs."

My gaze inadvertently settled on her slightly rounded belly, stirring something unprecedented within me-there was everything I wanted to protect.

After showering, I found Anna sitting in a small second-floor sitting room, reading with classical music playing softly. She didn’t look up when I entered.

"Food just arrived. You should eat something," she said calmly, her manner no longer formal as it would be with an elder, but carrying an ineffable intimacy.

Secretly pleased, I placed my prepared gifts on the coffee table in front of her and sat down to enjoy my meal.

After dinner, Rachel cleared the dishes and everyone withdrew, leaving Anna to finally pick up my gifts. Seeing three jewelry boxes, she asked with surprise, "Uncle Marcus, what does this mean?"

Instead of answering, I opened all three boxes. A sapphire necklace, clearly valuable; and two emerald-green jade bracelets, obviously intended for children.

"Was it Catherine who told you?"

Anna asked, her gaze probing.

I betrayed my niece without hesitation:

"She told me to make me give up."

Anna studied me intently. "Aren’t you curious about who their father is?"

I met her eyes, my voice steady and determined. "If you’ll allow it, I can be their father." My heart raced as I spoke-my first explicit expression of my feelings, and my first clear realization that I would give everything for her and these children.