CHAPTER 150: THE SIMPSON RECKONING

_Does he really believe he can target Anna and my children just because he’s older and connected to the Murphy family?_

The room fell silent. No one moved.

Even George’s security team seemed frozen, uncertain whether to help their employer or continue restraining us.

"Sir!" one guard finally broke the stillness, stepping toward George.

A provocatively dressed woman suddenly appeared from a side room, her high heels clicking rapidly across the floor as she rushed to George’s side.

"Oh my God, George! What happened to you?" she exclaimed with theatrical concern, dropping to her knees beside him.

George blinked up at her through watering eyes. "Who are you?"

"It’s Mia, George! Don’t you remember? Let me help you!" She collapsed dramatically on top of him, further restricting his already limited movement.

I watched with dark amusement, recognizing Mia from Olympus Club.

Rachel had made the right call.

While George struggled beneath Mia’s "helpful" ministrations, Rachel strode forward, her face contorted with cold fury. She grabbed George by his collar, yanking him upright.

"Mr. Simpson, we’re not particularly refined people," she hissed, her normally professional demeanor completely abandoned. "You should tell your men to stand down, or else..." She showed her fist with a cold smile.

"I’m a woman, and I have no qualms about hitting a man."

George’s face reddened with rage. " I’ll sue all of you for this! This is–"

Rachel’s fist connected with his left eye before he could finish, the impact producing a sickening thud.

I didn’t intervene. George Simpson had crossed too many lines.

"Clayton," I said quietly, "let’s find Anna."

Clayton nodded, following me as I headed for the staircase. Every fiber of my being was focused on a single thought: finding her, ensuring her safety.

I’d nearly reached the second floor when I saw her standing at the end of the hallway. My pace quickened involuntarily, muscles relaxing slightly at the confirmation that she was physically unharmed.

"Annie, are you alright?" I asked, scanning her face for signs of distress.

She shook her head. "I’m fine, but my mother is upstairs."

Without thinking, I pulled her into my arms, finally feeling truly at ease with her warm presence against my chest.

The swell of her belly-our twins pressed against me, igniting a fierce protectiveness I’d never felt before.

"Clayton," I called without looking away from Anna, "go get Mrs. Shaw, then take her straight out of here."

Anna looked up at me questioningly.

"Aren’t we leaving too?"

I kept my arm firmly around her waist, my tone leaving no room for negotiation. "And let George Simpson off this easily? I don’t think so."

As we descended the stairs together, George’s security guards remained motionless, their earlier bravado evaporated. George himself sat slouched on a sofa, one hand cradling his abdomen, the other hovering near his rapidly swelling eye. He flinched visibly when Rachel moved toward him, prompting a cold satisfaction in my chest.

I pulled out my phone, sending a brief message to Joseph Walker. _Bring her._

"Marcus, you’ve gone too far!" George shouted, his voice tinged with desperation. "No matter what, I’m still your brother-in-law. You’re nothing but a heartless animal!"

I met his gaze steadily. "You should be grateful you’re dealing with the man I am today."

It wasn’t a threat but a simple truth. If not for Anna and the twins, I might have inflicted far worse on the man who dared kidnap my family.

Headlights suddenly swept across the windows, illuminating the room briefly before fading back to the warm glow of chandeliers.

I leaned close to Anna’s ear, my voice barely a whisper. "Mary’s here."

Anna’s POV

Marcus leaned close to my ear, his breath warm against my skin. "Mary’s here," he whispered, the two simple words sending a jolt of understanding through me.

I immediately turned to Mia, deliberately softening my voice to sound protective. "Mia, don’t be afraid.

We’ll get you out of here."

Mia blinked, confusion flickering across her face before understanding dawned in her eyes. The original plan had shifted—we were no longer dealing with a "secret rendezvous" but a "forced detention." I tensed slightly, wondering if she could adapt quickly enough. Upstairs, the evidence of my and Mom’s destruction spree remained uncleaned, making this new scenario more believable.

The distinctive click of heels against marble echoed from the foyer, my pulse quickening in response.

Suddenly, Mia launched herself away from George, her petite frame crashing dramatically into the coffee table.

Crystal glasses and a fruit bowl shattered against the floor, the cacophony reverberating through the mansion’s cavernous spaces. I froze, momentarily speechless at her commitment to the performance.

Kneeling amid the glittering debris, Mia let tears stream down her cheeks, her shoulders shaking with convincing sobs. "Mr. Simpson... please let me go," she pleaded, voice cracking perfectly. "I have a boyfriend... we’re getting engaged soon... I don’t want anything to do with you... please..."

I struggled to maintain my concerned expression, fighting the urge to raise an eyebrow at her theatrical display.

_Not subtle, but definitely effective._

"GEORGE SIMPSON!" The furious shout cut through the room like a gunshot.

I turned to see Mary Simpson standing in the doorway, her face contorted with rage, Jack and Joseph Walker close behind her. Mary’s heels struck the marble floor like war drums as she advanced into the room, each step radiating fury.

George’s face drained of color, his eyes darting between Mary and Marcus.

Realization and betrayal twisted his features as he turned to Marcus. "You treacherous bastard," he hissed through clenched teeth.

I stood beside Marcus, his steady presence anchoring me as Mary Simpson’s heels struck the marble floor like a death knell for George’s carefully constructed facade. The look of abject terror on George’s face was almost worth the ordeal of being held captive in his secret mansion.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?’

Mary’s voice reverberated through the cavernous space.

George scrambled to his feet, desperation radiating from every pore.

"Mary, darling, this is all a setup orchestrated by Marcus and Anna." His voice cracked with panic as he gestured wildly toward us. "They’re trying to destroy me!"

Jack stood in the doorway, eyes widening as he took in the palatial surroundings. I saw the exact moment when the pedestal he’d placed his father on crumbled beneath his feet.

His jaw tightened, shoulders stiffening with each passing second.

Marcus slipped his arm around my waist, his touch gentle yet possessive.

We exchanged a silent glance, agreeing without words to let this disaster unfold naturally. Sometimes silence speaks volumes that accusations never could.

Mary surveyed the room, her practiced eye missing nothing. "A setup?" Her laugh was brittle as shattered glass.

"Are you telling me Marcus and Anna built this entire mansion-" she gestured at the staff hovering nervously in the background, "-hired all these people, installed security systems, and what? Just waited for the perfect moment to frame you?" Her voice dripped with scathing disbelief.

Mia chose that precise moment to crawl toward Mary, tears streaming perfectly down her cheeks. "Mrs. Simpson, please help me!" She clutched at Mary’s legs like a drowning woman grasping for salvation. "I don’t have feelings for your husband! I have a boyfriend—we’re getting engaged soon. I can’t betray him!"

Before Mary could react, Mia pivoted dramatically, crawling toward George.

"Mr. Simpson, please let me go, I’m begging you!" Her performance was so over-the-top I nearly rolled my eyes, but it was working beautifully.

The realization of Mia’s opportunistic manipulation finally dawned on George. He kicked away from her grasp, his face contorting with disgust.

"I don’t even know this woman! They brought her here!" He grabbed the nearest security guard by the sleeve.

"Tell my wife—this woman was just brought here by them, wasn’t she?"

The guard swallowed visibly, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead.

"Y-yes, Mrs. Simpson. This woman just arrived."

Mary’s gaze hardened. "George, these are all your employees. Of course they’ll say whatever you tell them to say." She turned, heading for the sweeping staircase. "If I find anything upstairs, George, we’re finished."

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling as George’s face drained of color. _He’s remembering Mom’s redecorating spree upstairs._

Jack stepped forward, his voice eerily calm in the chaos. "So you built this massive house in the middle of nowhere just to hide your affairs?" The disillusionment in his eyes was absolute. His voice suddenly exploded with rage: "How DARE you treat Mom this way?"

George’s POV

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but nothing came out. What could I possibly say? That I’d orchestrated this elaborate scheme to destroy the Shaw family once and for all? That I’d planned to use Elizabeth’s tarnished reputation to devastate a pregnant Anna, possibly causing her to lose those twins she carried?

"What gives you the right to treat my mother this way?" Jack suddenly shouted, his voice cracking with emotion.

The accusation cut through me like a serrated blade. I desperately wanted to explain, to justify myself, but the words died in my throat. I couldn’t tell him the truth. Not about any of it.

In my mind, everything had been planned with meticulous precision. By tomorrow morning, the Shaw family would have been drowning in yet another scandal. Elizabeth—already fragile from previous rumors-would have been crushed completely. Anna, in her delicate condition, would have broken down alongside her mother.

And in the aftermath, I would have swooped in, picking apart their empire piece by piece. No one would have traced it back to me.

_If we had just gotten through tonight.

Just one night._

But I hadn’t accounted for Marcus Murphy’s unexpected return. Why now, of all times? After being absent for so long, why choose this exact moment to reappear? The thought made my teeth clench until my jaw ached.

"Jack," I attempted desperately, "I truly don’t know this woman. I’m your father, you’re my only son—how can you believe strangers over your own flesh and blood?"

The words had barely left my lips when Mary’s piercing scream shattered the tense silence.

"GEORGE SIMPSON, I’LL DESTROY YOU FOR THIS!"

My heart plummeted to the pit of my stomach. She’d found something— something I couldn’t explain away. The sensation of freefall gripped me, leaving me light-headed and nauseous.

Jack gave me one final look, a glacial stare that conveyed everything words couldn’t. "What else do you have to say for yourself?"