Chapter 276

Anna’s POV

I dialed Catherine, my fingers steady despite the chaos swirling in my chest.

"You finally called me back!" Catherine's voice burst through the speaker, words tumbling over each other like dominoes. "What the hell is going on? How did you end up sleeping with Logan Porter? Wait, that doesn't make sense—you wouldn't willingly sleep with Logan. Did he drug you?"

"That wasn't me," I said, my voice dropping to arctic temperatures.

"What?" The stunned silence on her end was palpable. "Not you? But... but that face..."

If Catherine—my closest friend, who knew every expression, every mannerism—couldn't tell the difference, then going to Murphy Estate would be futile. They'd already convicted me in their minds.

"What's Marcus's reaction?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"Marcus walked in and hasn't said a word. His face doesn't look any worse than usual, though Peter Reed isn't with him." Catherine's frustration bled through the phone. "I'll tell you what, though—the entire Murphy family showed up. These people ran here faster than they do for holiday dinners. Especially Mary Simpson. She's been spewing poison while everyone else stays quiet. I wanted to march over and slap her."

Of course she is, I thought bitterly. This wasn't coincidence—this was human nature's darkest impulses taking center stage.

"Where are you?" Catherine continued. "Why aren't you here yet?"

"I'm not coming. Logan Porter had a car accident. I just left the hospital." I forced my voice to remain steady. "I need to handle something else. Keep an eye on things for me and text if anything changes."

"Logan had an accident? What's really going on here?"

"He's still unconscious. I don't know the details yet."

As I ended the call, Rachel's concern filled the car. "Ms. Shaw, shouldn't you call Mr. Murphy?"

I stared at the phone in my hand, my heart constricting painfully. It wasn't that I feared he wouldn't trust me—I couldn't bear the thought of him suffering because of this. My jaw clenched until my teeth ached.

"Logan Porter has gone too far this time," I spat, rage bubbling beneath my carefully controlled exterior.

I dialed Logan's secretary next, gambling that Logan wouldn't have shared his sordid plans with underlings. The man answered on the third ring.

"Ms. Shaw?" His surprise was evident.

"Yes, it's me."

"It's rather late. How can I help you?"

"Amanda Lewis's phone number. Give it to me."

"You... you know Amanda?" His hesitation confirmed my suspicions.

"I know her, and I've met her. I need to speak with her."

Minutes later, I'd arranged to meet Amanda at a café near the hospital. Rachel and I arrived first, securing a private booth where prying eyes couldn't reach us. When Amanda walked in, her resemblance to me was even more striking in the soft lighting—the same bone structure, similar features, but lacking the polish and confidence that came with privilege.

Rachel's sharp intake of breath told me she saw it too. Amanda's eyes darted nervously between us, guilt and fear written across her face like a confession.

"Sit down, Ms. Lewis," I said, gesturing to the seat across from me. I ordered for all of us, creating an atmosphere of casual normalcy that belied the storm brewing beneath. "Rachel, join us. Sit down and rest a bit."

"Ms. Lewis, you don't mind, do you?" I asked, though it wasn't really a question.

"N-no, I don't mind," she stammered.

Rachel pulled out her phone and played the video. Amanda's face crumbled as she watched, her hands flying to cover her mouth, teeth biting down on her lower lip until I worried she'd draw blood.

I gazed out the window at the hospital across the street, its lights glowing against the dark sky. "This hospital has an excellent thoracic surgery department. They specialize in malignant lung tumors. Do you have family staying here, Ms. Lewis?"

Amanda's shoulders relaxed slightly at the change of topic. "My grandmother. She just had surgery and is still recovering."

"Would you mind telling me about your family?" I kept my tone conversational, though every word was calculated.

"My grandmother's name is Rose Lewis—beautiful name, isn't it?" A genuine smile flickered across Amanda's face.

Rachel leaned forward. "You share your grandmother's surname?"

"Yes, I have her last name. I don't have parents—I'm an orphan. Twenty-four years ago, my grandmother found me by a small river." Amanda's voice grew steadier as she spoke about the one person who clearly mattered to her. "She named me Amanda. I only learned later that she'd been married. Her husband was a police officer who died in the line of duty. They were childhood sweethearts, married less than a month when he was killed. She never remarried, took care of his parents alone, and raised me. The old lady passed three years ago. We thought Grandma could finally relax and enjoy life, but then her health deteriorated."

Her story painted a clear picture—an orphan raised by a widowed grandmother, now facing mounting medical bills. The perfect target for someone like Logan.

I set down my coffee cup with deliberate precision. "So, Logan Porter gave you a lot of money?"