CHAPTER 151: FIRE ON MOUNTAIN

Jack’s POV

I stood frozen in the doorway of the bedroom, my lungs refusing to function properly. This secret mansion -this temple to my father’s deception was bad enough.

The once-pristine room had been savaged. Shards of crystal vases glittered across imported carpet. Silk bedding lay torn from the king bed.

Expensive artwork hung in tatters, and the unmistakable scent of a woman’s perfumenot my mother’s-lingered beneath the sharp sting of spilled alcohol.

"Look at your father," Mother said beside me, gesturing toward the wreckage with a bitter laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. "Quite the player, isn’t he? Even puts you young men to shame."

The words carried a forced lightness, but I heard the tremor beneath them.

A toxic mixture of disappointment, rage, and shame flooded my chest, making it impossible to respond. The father Id spent my life trying to emulate, whose approval I’d desperately sought, had been nothing but a carefully constructed facade.

I moved closer to Mother, gently placing my arm around her shoulders.

Her body trembled slightly beneath my touch.

"Let’s not look anymore. Come on, let’s go downstairs," I suggested quietly.

She didn’t seem to hear me. Her gaze remained fixed on the destruction, eyes reflecting disbelief and betrayal.

"Your father built an entire secret mansion for his affairs!" The words fell from her lips like stones.

My heart felt like it was being carved out with a dull knife. Id seen Mother angry before, disappointed, even furious-but never this broken.

"Am I too old for him now?" her voice grew smaller, almost speaking to herself rather than to me. "Is that it?"

Then suddenly, her voice rose, tears glistening in her eyes under the harsh chandelier light. "Who does he think he is? How DARE he do this to me?’

I remained silent, my own chest heavier than lead. The pedestal I’d placed my father on lay in ruins, much like this bedroom. All I could do was tighten my hold on Mother’s shoulders, hoping my presence offered some small comfort amid this devastating betrayal.

Anna’s POV

I stood in the vast foyer of George Simpson’s secret mansion, watching the remnants of his carefully constructed life crumble around him. Mary’s furious footsteps still echoed from upstairs, punctuating the heavy silence.

George stared at Marcus and me, his eyes narrowed with cold calculation despite his rapidly swelling eye.

"Marcus, I truly underestimated you both," George said, his voice dripping with venom. His gaze flickered to Marcus’s arm wrapped protectively around my waist, and I felt his eyes linger uncomfortably on my pregnant belly. "So you two are... together?"

His pupils dilated slightly, realization dawning in his expression as he connected the pieces. The casual intimacy between us was impossible to miss.

Marcus didn’t answer directly. Instead, his voice dropped to a dangerous timbre. "If you ever target the Shaw family again, I’ll ensure you regret it tenfold."

George’s attention fixed on my rounded abdomen. "The babies are yours?" The question hung in the air like poison gas.

I instinctively leaned closer to Marcus, a wave of nausea that had nothing to do with pregnancy washing over me.

Marcus’s arm tightened around me, his eyes turning to steel.

"Yes, they’re mine."

The simple declaration sent a jolt through my system. We’d agreed to keep our relationship private, yet here he was, claiming our children publicly.

My emotions tangled into a complicated knot-mostly touched, partly embarrassed, with a hint of resignation.

"Uncle Marcus," I whispered, "I thought we agreed to keep things quiet for now?"

Marcus’s eyes never left George’s face.

"I’m concerned certain obtuse individuals might harass you again, endangering your health and our children’s."

George’s mouth opened and closed, like a fish suddenly finding itself on dry land.

Just then, Mary descended the staircase with Jack trailing behind her, both their expressions thunderstruck at the scene before them. When Jack’s gaze landed on Marcus’s protective stance, the way I nestled against him, something in his eyes shattered.

"Why him?" Jack’s voice cracked with raw anguish. "Anna, is this some kind of revenge against me?"

I sighed, exhaustion settling deep in my bones. "Mr. Simpson, our relationship ended long ago. This isn’t revenge-you’re simply not that significant."

His face contorted. "But why *him*?

Aren’t you worried about what Skyview City’s social circles will say?"

I leaned further into Marcus’s embrace, finding strength in his solid presence.

"When the entire upper class was mocking me, Marcus was the only one who helped. Why should I care what those people think? What are they to me? What are *you* to me?"

Jack stood frozen, words failing him completely.

Turning away from his stricken face, I addressed Mary. "Mia is Rachel’s friend. We’ll be taking her with us now. I assume you won’t object, Mrs. Simpson?"

Mia immediately caught on, her body slumping as she bowed tearfully toward Mary. "Mrs. Simpson, I swear I have no feelings for Mr. Simpson.

Please, let me go."

Mary’s face drained of color as she stared at Mia’s deliberately provocative posture. "Get out! All of you, get out of here!"

’Thank you, Mrs. Simpson," Mia whispered, scurrying over to grasp Rachel’s arm.

The weight of the day’s events suddenly crashed down on me. I tugged gently at Marcus’s sleeve.

"Marcus, I’m tired. Let’s go."

"Alright," he nodded, his hand finding mine naturally.

His palm felt slightly dry but warm against my skin, enveloping my smaller hand completely. Something inside me softened-as if the armor I’d worn for so long was gradually melting away. Unexpected sweetness bloomed in my chest.

I glanced down at our joined hands, marveling at the sight. When my fingers shifted slightly, Marcus immediately interlaced them with his own.

I looked up, surprised, and found him already watching me. The tenderness in his eyes made my heart flutter wildly.

For the first time, I truly understood what it meant to be looked at with adoration-like being immersed in honey, sweetness clinging to every part of me. These eyes full of love were looking at me, belonging to me alone.

So this was how it felt to be genuinely loved. You could feel exactly how important you were to someone, without a shadow of doubt.

My chest felt so full it might burst, entirely different from the shock I’d felt seeing him just yesterday. I believed him now when he said he’d waited years for me, because his eyes told me he must have been watching me like this all along.

I suddenly remembered the first time I saw Marcus at Murphy Estate, realizing now that his gaze even then had been one of carefully restrained intensity. It had always been there—l just hadn’t recognized it.

Mary’s POV

My gaze darted between George’s reddening cheek and the sickening sight of Marcus’s arm wrapped protectively around Anna Shaw’s pregnant body.

The words still echoed in my ears.

"Yes, they’re mine."

Marcus—my brother-claiming those twins growing inside her. My stomach twisted into knots of rage and betrayal.

Anna Shaw? This nobody whose family we’d graciously allowed into our social circles? She’d somehow bewitched my brother and was now carrying Murphy heirs?

The crystal vase on the side table caught my eye. Before I could fully process my actions, my fingers closed around its cold, heavy base.

"Mom, what are you doing?" Jack’s voice sounded distant, as if underwater.

I barely registered Anna turning toward us, her face shifting from triumph to alarm. Marcus attempted to shield her, but before he could fully protect her, another figure rushed forward-Sean Smith, throwing himself directly into the path of my rage.

*Crash!*

The vase shattered against his temple, glass fragments exploding outward in a deadly constellation. Sean crumpled to his knees, blood immediately streaming down his face.

The room fell deathly silent.

Then pain exploded across my cheek sharp, stinging, unexpected. Marcus had slapped me. My brother had struck me.

My hand flew to my face, disbelief paralyzing me. "Marcus, I’m your sister, and you hit me?’

His eyes were glacial. "That slap was long overdue."

Something in his tone suggested he wasn’t just referring to this incident.

Something deeper, older—a resentment Id never noticed festering beneath the surface of our sibling relationship.

"Get Sean to the hospital," Anna commanded, her voice cutting through the tension. Her eyes found mine, filled with cold contempt. "Let’s go."

I watched helplessly as they carried the bleeding man out, my chest heaving with humiliation and fury.

The front door slammed behind them, the sound echoing through the palatial space like a gunshot.

"Mary, are you alright—" George began, stepping toward me with feigned concern.

My hand moved before my mind could catch up, delivering a resounding slap across his face.

*Smack!*

Something unfamiliar flickered in George’s eyes—a venomous glint I’d never witnessed in thirty years of marriage. The mask of the refined gentleman I’d married slipped, revealing something cold and reptilian beneath.

"You dare hit me?" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.

I was beyond caring, consumed by white-hot rage. "You shameless old man! Explain yourself in front of our son!" I jabbed my finger toward his chest. "What’s the deal with this house and that woman? I’m not leaving until you explain!"

A cruel smile twisted George’s lips, transforming his familiar face into something unrecognizable.

"Yes, I had this mansion built in secret. Every brick and beam was paid for with money I earned-George Simpson’s money—with nothing from your precious Murphy family." He spat the words like they tasted foul in his mouth.

He moved closer, his eyes glittering with malice. "That woman? Don’t worry, eventually a woman will live here, but it certainly won’t be you—a spoiled, arrogant, worthless Murphy princess."

My heart stuttered in my chest.

"George Simpson, what did you just say?"

"I’ve already offended Marcus, and knowing your Murphy family’s style, they won’t let me off easily. Mary, do you think at this point I’m still afraid of your family?" His voice carried thirty years of suppressed resentment.

"If you still want to be Mrs. Simpson, then go back and behave yourself as Mrs. Simpson should. If you’re tired of being Mrs. Simpson, I don’t mind finding someone else for the role."

My legs weakened beneath me. If Jack hadn’t steadied me from behind, I might have collapsed onto the imported marble floor. The truth crashed over me like a tidal wave-I’d never known my husband at all. The man I’d shared a bed with for decades was a complete stranger.

"Find someone else?" Jack’s voice cut through my shock, cold and sharp as steel. "Are you planning to replace your son too?"

I clutched my son’s arm desperately, feeling it was the only solid thing in a world suddenly turned to quicksand.

George sighed theatrically. "Son, that’s not what I meant. You saw how your mother wouldn’t let things go."

"If you want to replace Mrs. Simpson," Jack replied with deadly calm, "then replace your son at the same time."

He wrapped his arm firmly around my shoulders. "We’re leaving."

At the doorway, I turned back, summoning every ounce of the notorious Murphy temper that had been my trademark in my youth.

"George Simpson, I won’t let this go. If you dare bring a woman to live here, I’ll have this place razed to the ground."

As Jack guided me to the car, memories of my younger self flooded back—the fiery Murphy daughter everyone feared crossing. For thirty years, George had played the perfect gentleman to win my heart and the Murphy fortune.

Now he wanted to end the charade, but he’d forgotten one crucial detail: the Murphy princess isn’t so easily discarded.

*Just wait and see, George Simpson.

Just wait and see.*