Anna's POV
"Ms. Shaw, the Simpsons have requested your presence at their residence immediately."
The message flashed across my phone screen, stark and direct.
I stared at it for a few seconds, thumb hovering over the screen. I could feel the slow curl of irritation wrapping around my chest. Then I typed my reply with clipped precision:
"I'll be there in an hour."
From across the room, Rachel looked up from her laptop, brows furrowing in concern. "You're actually going?"
"Know your enemy," I said coolly, gathering my coat and phone. "And right now, the Simpsons are definitely the enemy."
The drive to the Simpson estate felt longer than usual, each minute dragged down by the weight of anticipation. As my car rolled past the towering wrought iron gates and crunched over the gravel driveway, I spotted Lucy's sleek black sedan parked right at the entrance. Front and center.
Not just a coincidence.
A declaration.
She was staking her claim.
Inside, the grand foyer was flooded with warm afternoon light, but it couldn't thaw the chill that settled in my spine. The moment my heels clicked against the marble floor, Lucy appeared like she'd been waiting.
"Anna!" she trilled, rising to her feet in a tailored ivory dress that screamed I belong here. Her voice was syrupy-sweet and utterly insincere. "Thank you for coming so quickly. Let me take your coat."
Without waiting for my response, she gestured to the staff with the elegance of a woman who'd already decided this was her home. The servants moved like they were following her cue.
She led me to the drawing room, where Jack sat flanked by his parents.
George Simpson stood by the fireplace, hands clasped behind his back, expression carved from granite. Mary Simpson lounged on a velvet chair like she was sitting on a throne, her gaze raking over me with obvious disdain.
"Anna," George said, nodding curtly. "Sit down."
"I prefer to stand, thank you." My voice was even, calm. My refusal was a small but deliberate assertion of control.
George didn't appreciate it.
"It's about your recent behavior," he said, voice low and authoritative decades of boardroom experience distilled into each syllable. "Specifically, your appointment of that... individual from Olympus Club to a position of authority within Phoenix."
I didn't blink. "Sean Smith is a highly qualified MIT graduate."
"He's a prostitute," Mary snapped, her knuckles whitening around the armrest. "You've brought shame to both our families with this… arrangement."
I raised an eyebrow. "Arrangement?"
"Don't insult our intelligence." Mary's cheeks flushed with fury. "A divorced woman, alone, flaunting her needs like a scandalous badge."
Lucy reentered with a tea tray, placing it down with studied grace. "Sugar, Anna?" Her voice dripped with false civility.
I ignored her entirely.
"Sean's appointment is based on merit, not assumptions," I said.
"His 'merit'," Mary muttered darkly.
Jack, silent until now, finally spoke. "This isn't just about image, Anna. Having someone like him as a face of a joint venture is unacceptable."
"Someone like him?" I repeated coolly. "You mean intelligent, competent, and loyal?"
Jack's jaw clenched. "Someone who sells himself."
The insult hung in the air like smoke. My temper flared, but I kept my voice composed.
"Coming from a man who couldn't stay faithful through his own wedding night, that's rich."
Mary gasped. "How dare you bring that up!"
George stepped forward, fire flickering behind him. "Do you know what this could do to our reputation? If this scandal leaks Phoenix could collapse."
"Then maybe focus on the project, not my personal life," I said.
Mary stood suddenly. "Have you even thought about your mother? Your grandmother? What they'll feel when the city whispers that you've taken up with a… a male escort?"
I felt the cold burn of fury, deep and quiet.
"My family is not your concern," I said.
"They will be when I call Elizabeth myself," Mary shot back. "She'd be devastated to learn what you've become."
I drew in a breath. "My mother respects my independence. This has nothing to do with her."
George loomed closer. "Anna, dismiss this man. Immediately."
"With all due respect, George," I said calmly, "my hiring decisions are not open for debate."
Jack's voice sharpened. "Even if it costs you Phoenix?"
"Phoenix is mine as much as yours," I reminded him. "And personnel decisions fall under my jurisdiction."
"You're being unreasonable," George snapped. "If you can't be trusted with a basic decision like this, how can we trust you with the future of the project?"
"If I cave now, what message does that send to Shaw Corp? That our leadership is swayed by gossip and social bias?"
Jack stood beside his father. "You have one day, Anna. One day to reconsider and fire Sean. If you don't…"
I tilted my head. "If I don't?"
He didn't finish the threat.
"You're already making moves behind my back," I said, voice clipped. "Spare me the dramatics. I know where this is heading."
"There are consequences you haven't considered," Jack warned.
"I look forward to them," I said, already walking toward the door. "We're done here."
I didn't make it far before Lucy appeared again, trotting after me like she actually thought I cared.
"Anna, wait!" she called, her tone pitched with false concern. "Please, let's talk. Just us."
I paused, more curious than anything. "Talk?"
She dropped her voice. "I know you probably resent me for becoming GM at Phoenix… but that was Jack's decision, not mine. I don't even care about the project. I don't understand R&D, Anna."
I raised an eyebrow, skeptical.
She continued, "But Jack said this is the only way I'll be respected. That taking Phoenix's core tech will solidify my role. But I don't want it. If you fire Sean, I'll make sure the core technology stays with you."
My stomach turned.
So it was never about Sean. Not really. This was Lucy, again. Always Lucy.
She smiled nervously. "If you care about Sean, you can keep him on the side for now. Bring him back once things settle. No one will care then. Phoenix is your passion. I don't want to take that."
I stared at her, then slowly smiled a cold, bitter thing.
"You don't want to take what's mine?"
She blinked. "What… what do you mean?"
"You talk too much, Lucy," I said quietly. "Save the manipulation for the Simpsons. They're the only ones who still believe you."
Her expression faltered.
I walked out of the estate, my mind racing. Whether Jack wanted to give Phoenix to Lucy or Lucy wanted to take it, the outcome would be the same. They wanted my project my work, my vision to become a pawn in their power game.
They thought I would fold.
Let them try.
I don't lose what's mine. Not without a fight.