CHAPTER 154: LEGACIES COLLIDE

Anna’s POV

The morning sunlight streamed through the bay windows as Catherine leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You won’t believe what’s happening at the Simpson house."

I raised an eyebrow, cradling my herbal tea while trying to find a comfortable position on the plush sofa.

At eight months pregnant with twins, comfort was becoming an increasingly foreign concept.

"What now?" Mom asked, settling beside me with uncharacteristic eagerness. Ever since the incident at George’s secret mansion, she’d developed a rather vindictive interest in Simpson family drama.

Catherine’s eyes sparkled with mischief. "Two women showed up at their doorstep yesterday, claiming George ruined their lives, stole their family fortunes, and-get this-maintained intimate relationships with them behind Mary’s back for years."

I nearly choked on my tea.

"Seriously?"

’The women are threatening to sue," Catherine continued, popping a grape into her mouth. "And they’re not just random gold-diggers. Both were pursued by George years ago, before he settled for Aunt Mary."

My mind flashed to Marcus’s departing words and that meaningful look in his eyes. The pieces suddenly clicked into place. This was his doing-his promise fulfilled. A strange warmth spread through my chest, mingling with an odd sense of vindication.

"That’s not all," Catherine added, clearly savoring the moment. "Sean discovered one of Simpson Group’s senior executives has been embezzling for years. Someone anonymously sent evidence to the board and authorities."

Mom leaned forward. "Who reported them?"

"Rumor has it," Catherine dropped her voice even lower, " it was Logan Porter."

"Logan?" I whispered, genuinely shocked. The man who’d once professed his love to me had gone after the Simpsons? My throat tightened with unexpected emotion.

"His mother says he barely knew the executive in question," Mom added cautiously, studying my face. "She thinks he only did it to create problems for George. Because of you."

I nodded silently, unsure how to process this information. Logan had risked making powerful enemies just to protect me. The gesture left me feeling both touched and uncomfortable.

Three weeks later, I found myself being driven to Murphy Estate for a family gathering. William had specifically requested my presence-just minebut Id insisted on bringing proper gifts, refusing to abandon tradition despite my heavily pregnant state.

"Ms. Shaw, we’ve arrived," Clayton announced as we pulled through the imposing gates.

The rumors had been swirling for weeks-that my twins were Marcus’s, that I would soon marry into the Murphy family. I’d chosen to ignore them all, focusing instead on my health and the babies.

The estate’s main doors swung open before I could even reach them.

William himself stood waiting, his weathered face breaking into a smile that made his eyes disappear into deep creases.

"Annie!" He hurried forward with surprising agility for his age, taking my arm with gentle care. "Look at you! Those babies are growing well!’

"Grandpa William," I replied, the familial term slipping out naturally these days. "Thank you for inviting me."

The great hall had been transformed with festival decorations-red lanterns hanging from the ceiling, the scent of mooncakes filling the air. Catherine waved enthusiastically from across the room, while Phillip and Layla Murphy approached with warm smiles.

"How are you feeling?" Layla asked, her hand hovering near my swollen belly as if seeking permission.

I nodded, and she placed her palm gently against my side, gasping with delight when one of the twins kicked in response.

"I was just this size when I carried Phillip," she said, eyes crinkling with nostalgia. "Those babies are thriving!"

"I’m entering week thirty-two," I explained, rubbing the spot where a tiny foot or elbow was currently lodged. "The doctor says they’re both around four pounds now."

William beamed with pride. "You must be well taken care of! If you need more help at home, I can send some staff from here."

"No, please," I laughed, shaking my head. "If you send more people, I won’t even be allowed to lift my own spoon at mealtimes."

Catherine bounded over, champagne flute in hand. "Grandpa, if Anna doesn’t want the extra help, I’ll take it!

Id love someone to feed me grapes all day."

Layla shot her daughter a reproving look. "Be quiet before you give your brother any ideas."

The warmth in the room was palpable, wrapping around me like a protective blanket. These people had become my family in ways I’d never anticipated.

The thought brought a lump to my throat—a mix of gratitude and something like longing.

Just as William was regaling us with stories of Catherine’s childhood antics, the elderly butler appeared at the doorway, his expression unusually tense.

"Sir," he said, his voice carefully measured. "Miss Mary has returned."

Mary’s POV

My knuckles turned white as I gripped the custom-made bag in my hands, staring up at the imposing facade of Murphy Estate. The ancestral home where I’d spent my childhood summers now loomed before me like a fortress designed specifically to keep me out.

"Mr. Murphy is only seeing Mis. Shaw today. He asks that you return another day."

The butler’s words struck me like a physical blow. I had deliberately come without George, hoping to smooth things over with Father. The gifts in Lucy’s arms had been personally selected rare collectors items that had cost a small fortune. And yet, here I stood, being dismissed like some random socialite seeking a favor.

"Say that again," I demanded, my voice cracking despite my best efforts to appear composed. "This is Father’s exact message?"

The elderly butler kept his eyes downcast, making it clear he was merely the messenger. "Those were Mr. Murphy’s precise instructions, mả’am."

A searing pain exploded in my chest, hot and relentless. I’d spent my entire life being William Murphy’s daughter, carrying the weight and responsibility of the Murphy name, and what did I have to show for it?

Rejection. Humiliation. Being cast aside for a nobody from a second-rate family whose only apparent talent was getting herself knocked up.

Lucy touched my arm with infuriating gentleness. "Mrs. Simpson, since Mr. Murphy is occupied, perhaps we should leave and visit another time."

Her sympathy was the final straw. I snatched the carefully wrapped packages from her arms and hurled them to the ground with all my strength. The sound of shattering crystal inside one box triggered a savage satisfaction in my gut.

"He only cares about the babies in Anna Shaw’s belly, doesn’t he?" The words tore from my throat, ragged and venomous. "He’s losing his mind-his own daughter means less than grandchildren that aren’t even born yet?"

The butler took a startled step backward. I advanced, uncaring of how I appeared, my composure disintegrating completely.

"And who’s to say those bastards are even Marcus’s?" I spat, feeling a dark pleasure as the butler’s face registered shock. "For all we know, she could be pawning off some other man’s children on the Murphy family!"

"Mrs. Simpson, please!" The butler raised his hands in alarm. "Such talk is inappropriate. Mr. Murphy would be most displeased to hear this."

Displeased? As if Father’s displeasure hadn’t been the constant shadow over my entire existence.

I raised my voice deliberately, making sure it carried toward the house. "Have they forgotten I’m a Murphy too?

Father! Phillip! Are you trying to elevate the Shaw family at the Simpsons’ expense? Does marrying into the family now count for more than being born a Murphy?"

The butler abandoned his attempts at diplomacy and retreated inside, leaving me standing there with Lucy, who remained tellingly silent.