Chapter 261

Anna’s POV

Steven considered this, his small fingers tapping against his thigh. "If I win, you stop calling me 'kid'."

"Deal." I nodded, skating closer. "And if I win, you promise never to skate on this lake without my permission."

We marked a starting point and agreed on a route that would bring us safely back toward shore. Despite his age, Steven had real skill—but I needed this win. I pushed myself just hard enough to edge ahead in the final stretch, making it look close enough to spare his pride.

"You're pretty good," I admitted, breathing heavily as we reached the shore together. "Where did you learn to skate like that?"

His shoulders tensed slightly. "Oliver taught me. When we were little."

Back on solid ground, I quietly explained Steven's background to Catherine while the staff brought hot chocolate for the children.

"Steven and his brother watched their parents die in that fire," I said softly. "Oliver told Marcus they couldn't reach them through the flames."

Catherine's expression softened immediately. "That explains his defensive attitude. He's experienced more trauma than most adults."

I nodded, watching Steven sip his hot chocolate while studiously avoiding conversation with the staff. An idea began forming in my mind—perhaps one lost child could help another.

"Steven," I called, gesturing him over. "This is Caroline. She's about your age. Would you mind showing her around? It would be very grown-up of you to help look after her."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I'm not a babysitter."

"Being responsible for others is what separates men from boys," I replied carefully. "I think you're capable of being the former."

The words landed exactly as I'd hoped. He straightened his posture slightly, glancing at Caroline with renewed interest.

"She doesn't talk much," he observed.

"No," I agreed. "She sees the world differently. That makes her special."

---

I reluctantly accepted Cynthia Murphy's dinner invitation, despite every fiber of my being wanting to decline. The text arrived while I was napping, and for a moment after waking, I thought I was hallucinating. When I still was Jack Simpson's wife, these Murphy women wouldn't have given me the time of day, let alone invite me into their homes. Now, with Marcus and I not even officially engaged, they were suddenly treating me like family. The abrupt change in treatment left a bitter taste in my mouth—recognition mixed with disgust at their obvious social calculations.

After hanging up, I called Layla to get the real story. Apparently, this was a full family gathering.

"I'll be there," I promised Layla. "But I'll aim to arrive exactly on time. Not a minute earlier."

Andre Murphy's mansion managed to be both understated and obscenely expensive—the perfect politician's home. As I stepped through the grand entrance, the subtle shift in atmosphere was immediate. Cynthia exchanged a telling glance with Donna that made my stomach clench.

"Just Anna? Isn't Marcus with you?" Cynthia asked, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

I maintained my polite facade. "Marcus had urgent business in Europe." My voice remained steady while internally I prayed this particular conversation would die a swift death.

The sound of tires on the circular driveway drew everyone's attention. I turned to see Jack Simpson exiting his car, and my heart plummeted to the floor beneath my feet. This night just keeps getting better.

Donna's eyes lit up with malicious glee. "Anna! Jack! You two didn't coordinate your arrivals, did you?"

The implication hit me like a slap. I dropped all pretense of pleasantry and met her gaze head-on. "Donna, do you find that joke particularly clever?"

She faltered, clearly not expecting pushback. "I'm just teasing! Don't be so serious."

My expression remained frosty as blood pounded in my ears. "When the subject of your 'teasing' doesn't find it amusing, it ceases to be a joke. Do you have some issue with me that you'd like to address directly?"

I stepped closer, voice dropping to ensure only she could hear. "If you have concerns about me, that's your business to manage. But I won't have Marcus misunderstanding anything because of someone else's careless implications."

Donna's face flushed an ugly shade of red. I felt a cold satisfaction watching her squirm. Yesterday at William's estate, I'd maintained restraint as a semi-official Murphy family member. Today, as an invited guest in Andre's home, I felt no such obligation.

Jack approached, his expression a complex mixture of discomfort and something else I couldn't quite identify. Cynthia quickly intervened.

"Anna, don't mind Donna—her mouth works faster than her brain. Please, come in from the cold. You too, Jack."

I handed my gift to the waiting staff, adhering to social niceties while seething internally.

"We're family now! No need for such formalities," Cynthia protested.

My smile felt like cracked porcelain. If I didn't maintain these formalities, you people wouldn't extend me any courtesy at all.

The living room was already filled with Murphy family members engaged in various activities. Layla spotted me from the card table, relief washing over her face.

"Anna! Thank goodness you're here. Please take my place—my old bones can't handle sitting much longer." The desperation in her voice told me she'd been looking for an escape route for some time.

I sat in her vacated seat. "Layla, I should warn you—I'm terrible at cards. If I win, it's my victory. If I lose, it's your fault. Deal?"

"Of course," she agreed, practically leaping from her chair.