CHAPTER 149: BREAKING THE CAGE

Anna’s POV

The pristine luxury of my gilded cage was starting to suffocate me. Six months pregnant with twins and trapped in George Simpson’s mansion —this wasn’t exactly how I’d planned to spend my evening.

Night had fallen completely outside the tall windows, stars obscured by the mansion’s harsh security lights. paced the plush carpet, one hand supporting my lower back, the other protectively cradling my belly. My twins shifted restlessly inside me, as if sensing my growing determination.

_Time to cause some trouble._

My gaze fell on the crystal fruit bowl sitting innocently on the coffee table.

Without hesitation, I grabbed it and hurled it toward the window with all the strength I could muster.

The resounding crash as glass shattered against glass sent a wave of satisfaction through me. Shards exploded outward, a few pieces raining back onto the imported carpet. The cool night air immediately rushed in, carrying the scent of freedom.

One isn’t enough.

I turned to the ornate Murano glass vase displayed on the side table-probably worth more than some people’s monthly salary. My fingers wrapped around its delicate neck, and I smashed it against the floor with deliberate force.

"Mis. Shaw!" Two security guards burst through the door, eyes wide with alarm as they surveyed the destruction. "What are you doing?"

I offered them my most innocent smile, absently brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Oh, I’m so sorry.

Pregnancy clumsiness. I seem to have had a little accident."

They exchanged skeptical glances, clearly not buying my act. One started speaking into his radio when a tremendous crash from upstairs interrupted him.

_Elizabeth. Perfect timing, Mom._

The guards heads snapped toward the ceiling. Another crash followed, then the unmistakable sound of breaking glass.

"Lock her in," one ordered hastily. "I need to check upstairs."

The door slammed behind them, the lock clicking into place. Their footsteps pounded down the hallway and up the stairs, fading quickly.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my palm moving in gentle circles over my swollen abdomen. It’s okay, little ones," I whispered. "Grandma Elizabeth is creating quite the diversion. Did you feel that? That’s what we call teamwork."

Elizabeth’s POV

When the sound of shattering glass echoed from downstairs, a smile tugged at my lips. That was my Annie, fighting back in her own way. It was my turn now.

I surveyed the pristine guest room with its tasteful antiques and expensive furnishings. All these perfect, precious things that George Simpson valued so highly. My hand closed around a porcelain figurine, its smooth surface cool against my palm.

With a savage joy I hadn’t felt in decades, I hurled it against the mirror.

The shattering sound was music-a symphony of rebellion. Something hot and fierce uncoiled in my chest, years of pent-up Southern lady propriety crumbling like the figurine.

I grabbed a crystal vase next, watching it explode against the wall in a shower of glittering shards. Each crash felt like liberation, each act of destruction a reclamation of power. My hair had come loose, falling around my shoulders as I panted with exertion.

"Elizabeth, what on earth are you doing?"

George Simpson stood in the doorway, his face a mask of shock. I paused, chest heaving, and met his gaze without flinching.

"George Simpson," I said, my voice steadier than I’d expected, "release my daughter and me immediately, or I swear I’ll destroy everything in this godforsaken place." I stood amid the wreckage, cheeks flushed with exhilaration.

He remained silent, eyes scanning the destruction I’d wrought in mere minutes.

"What’s the matter?" I taunted, relishing his discomfort. "Concerned about your precious possessions?"

George sighed, adopting that sanctimonious expression that made my skin crawl. "Break whatever you want, Elizabeth. I’m only worried you might hurt yourself."

My stomach turned at his fake concern. I spotted a silk pillow on the floor and snatched it up, hurling it directly at his face.

"Get out!" I shouted, my voice raw with emotion.

Just then, a security guard rushed in, his face pale with panic. "Sir, we have an intruder," he stammered.

"Who?" George’s expression changed instantly, the facade of concern evaporating.

"Mr. Murphy, sir. Marcus Murphy." The guard could barely get the words out.

"What did you say?" George demanded, his voice sharp with disbelief.

"Marcus Murphy is here, sir. He’s already inside the grounds."

George looked thunderstruck.

"Marcus? When did he return to Skyview City?"

Hearing Marcus’s name sent relief washing through me like a warm tide.

_Thank heaven_. I struggled to keep my expression neutral, to not betray that I’d known all along he was back.

"George," I said, my voice laced with newfound confidence, "you’d better release us immediately. If this situation escalates, you’ll be the one facing humiliation."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You knew Marcus was back?"

My heart stuttered, remembering Marcus’s instruction to keep his return secret. I lifted my chin. "Perhaps even the heavens are disgusted by your behavior and sent someone to rescue us."

George clearly doubted me, but more pressing matters demanded his attention. "Watch her closely," he ordered the guards. "Don’t let her make any more disturbances." With that, he hurried from the room.

The two security guards exchanged glances, then moved toward me. Quick as lightning, I bent down and grabbed a sharp shard of crystal from the floor, pressing it against my own neck.

"Don’t you dare come any closer," I warned, feeling the sharp edge break skin. A thin line of blood appeared, warm against my throat.

The guards froze, horrified. "Mrs. Shaw, please calm down. As long as you don’t do anything rash, we promise not to approach."

George’s POV

I practically tumbled down the grand staircase when my security chief informed me of the intruder’s identity.

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped animal trying to escape.

Marcus Murphy? Here? Tonight?

Marcus stood in the center of my grand foyer, looking completely at ease beneath the massive crystal chandelier.

My pride and joy-this meticulously hidden estate that not even Mary knew about-suddenly felt like a trap closing around me instead of my prisoners.

"Marcus? When did you... get back?" I managed, fighting to keep my voice steady while cold sweat beaded on my forehead.

His eyes swept languidly over the imported marble and priceless artwork. "Nice place you’ve got here."

"Ha, just a modest estate. Can’t compare to your Golden Oak Manor." The words flew from my mouth before I could stop them._Idiot._ I saw the recognition flash in his eyes—I’d just confirmed I knew exactly who owned what property in Skyview City.

I quickly gestured toward the sitting room, desperate to reclaim control. "So, Marcus, when did you get back to Skyview City?" I signaled a hovering servant. "Get some refreshments for our guest."

Marcus’s expression hardened like concrete setting. "Cut the pleasantries.

Bring them out. I’m taking them with me."

My stomach plummeted. This perfectly orchestrated leverage over Anna Shaw —my chance to finally secure Skylake District—disintegrating before my eyes because of this Murphy interloper.

Always the Murphys, stomping over my ambitions, reminding me of my place beneath them in Skyview City’s hierarchy.

I forced my lips into a smile. "Bring who out? I don’t follow."

His eyes turned glacier-cold.

"Since you’re here, why not stay the night?" I offered, desperation creeping into my voice. "We can have a drink and catch up."

"Are you planning to detain me as well?" The dangerous edge in his tone made my skin prickle.

"What a joke, Marcus!" I laughed too loudly. "Why would I detain you? I’m just being hospitable." I leaned closer, deliberately adding, "Besides, this property isn’t known to many people.

Keep it between us, would you? If your sister Mary found out, she’d give me grief about it."

"Drop the act." Marcus’s face darkened like storm clouds gathering. "Release Anna and Elizabeth Shaw. If they’re unharmed, I might forget this ever happened."

I finally abandoned my façade, rage bubbling up like acid in my throat.

"And if I refuse?"

The Murphy family made your fortune, and we can just as easily break you."

His words sliced through me like a serrated blade. Thirty years of building my empire, and in his eyes, I was still just pathetic George Simpson, the charity case who married into the Murphy fortune. The humiliation burned like a branding iron against my skin.

"Break me?" I choked out a bitter laugh. "Marcus, I know you think highly of yourself, but don’t forget, this isn’t your Ascend Group territory.

You’ve got your own problems in Europe, don’t you? Or do you think making money overseas gives you the right to walk all over people here?"

"I’ll ask one more time. Will you release them?" All pretense of civility had vanished from his voice.

"I have no idea what you’re talking about." I refused with a cold smile.

When Marcus turned toward the grand staircase, panic exploded in my chest. I hadn’t expected him to simply take action!

"What are you all standing around for?" I shouted at my security team. "If anyone trespasses on private property, treat them like intruders and deal with them accordingly!"

Marcus’s POV

My gaze shifted past them to where George Simpson stood watching from the entrance to the main hall. _Enough games._

I stepped away from the confrontation, moving deliberately toward George.

His eyes widened slightly-the first hint of fear cracking his carefully maintained facade.

Without hesitation, I kicked him squarely in the chest, sending him flying backward into an antique credenza. The crash echoed through the cavernous space as George doubled over, gasping for breath.