Anna’s POV
I was savoring a rare moment of peace during my spa treatment when my phone buzzed. The masseuse paused as I reached for it, instantly recognizing my mother’s name on the screen.
"Anna, darling," she greeted me with that familiar spark in her voice. "William Murphy’s youngest son, Marcus, has returned from Europe! They’re hosting a family dinner tomorrow at the Murphy Estate."
My muscles tensed so much for relaxation. "Mother, I barely know Marcus Murphy. And the Simpsons will be there." The thought of seeing Jack and his new family made my stomach twist. "I really don’t think —"
"Anna," she cut in gently, "your grandmother and I will be at church tomorrow, praying. But you should attend. William’s always been so good to us."
She wasn’t wrong. What we owed William Murphy ran deeper than polite social obligations. My thoughts drifted back six years before my marriage to Jack, before it all crumbled.
I had been leaving a café when I saw an elderly man stumble on the sidewalk, clutching his chest. Everyone else ignored him, too absorbed in their own lives. But I couldn’t walk past. I rushed him to the hospital. That man was William Murphy. Back then, he was just a powerful name in Skyview City someone far removed from my world. But that day changed everything.
He had suffered a heart attack, and doctors said that if he’d arrived even ten minutes later, it might’ve been fatal. From that point on, William took a special interest in my family, especially after learning about my father’s death. When he realized my feelings for Jack, he personally arranged for us to meet. He was the reason our paths ever crossed.
"I know, Mother," I sighed, the memories washing over me. "William’s been wonderful."
"He treats you like a daughter," she reminded me softly. "And now his favorite son is home..."
There was a hopeful lilt in her voice, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. "Mother, please. I’ve never even met Marcus Murphy. Catherine talks about him, but that’s all."
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Everyone knew of Marcus Murphy the golden boy of Skyview’s most elite family. A Harvard prodigy. A business titan. A star athlete. He’d been in Europe for years, building a name for himself. I vaguely remembered Catherine mentioning he came back once six years ago for some girl. The details were fuzzy.
"Just come to the dinner," my mother pleaded. "For William."
I exhaled. I already knew I’d say yes. "Fine. I’ll be there."
After ending the call, I let my head sink back into the massage table. Another night of watching Jack and Lucy put on their happy-couple act. Another round of Mary Simpson’s passive-aggressive jabs. But William had stood by me during my darkest times. I owed him this much.
"Rachel," I called, knowing she’d be close. "I need a new dress for tomorrow night."
As she got to work, I tried to recall what Catherine had said about her elusive uncle. Brilliant, but distant. Cold in business, warm with family. And still single, even at thirty-two. One of Europe’s most eligible bachelors, yet no scandal, no wife.
Well... at the very least, tomorrow’s dinner might be interesting. If Jack behaved himself. If Mary didn’t push my buttons. If Lucy kept her act to herself.
The next day, I timed my arrival at Murphy Estate with precision so I thought. As I pulled up to the grand gates, I spotted Catherine hurrying toward the entrance, visibly flustered and glued to her phone.
"Anna!" She grabbed my arm, looking relieved. "Thank God. I need a favor."
I raised an eyebrow. Catherine Murphy never looked anything less than perfect, but today, her designer dress was slightly wrinkled and her lipstick was faded.
"What’s going on with you?"
"If anyone asks, I’ve been with you the past few days. Shopping, spa dates make it sound believable," she said quickly, fixing her lipstick in her phone camera.
I bit back a smile. "New boyfriend?"
Her blush answered for her. "Shut up. Don’t tell anyone."
As we strolled through the manicured garden, Skyview’s elite mingled on the lawn. The Murphy family’s gatherings were legendary, always filled with the city’s most powerful names.
Then I saw them Mary Simpson and Lucy Taylor, arm in arm near the rose garden, laughing like mother and daughter. My stomach twisted.
"Can you believe that?" Catherine whispered. "My aunt’s practically adopted her. William is going to lose it when he sees this."
Lucy noticed me and lit up with that familiar fake warmth. She tugged Mary along as she made a beeline for us.
"Anna!" she called, her voice syrupy sweet. "So wonderful to see you!"
I saw right through it. She wanted to look innocent like even Jack’s ex-wife was on friendly terms with her. It was a PR stunt. She was using me to legitimize herself.
"I don’t think so," I said coldly, turning away before she reached me.
Beside me, Catherine stifled a laugh.