Chapter 164
Anna’s POV
Marcus's arms felt like steel bands around me as he carried me toward the elevator. My heart beat so hard I was certain he could feel it through my blouse. The warmth radiating from his chest made it difficult to maintain my composure, and I hated that my body betrayed me this way.
"Put me down," I said, my voice edged with irritation.
Marcus acted as if he hadn't heard me, striding directly into the elevator without breaking his pace. From the corner of my eye, I caught Joseph deliberately blocking Rachel and Clayton from following us. Rachel's expression hardened, her protective instincts clearly kicking into overdrive. She'd be furious about this—my safety was her top priority, after all.
The moment the elevator doors closed, I tried again. "Uncle Marcus, please put me down. I'm perfectly fine now." After that bland rice porridge, strength had returned to my limbs. There was absolutely no reason for him to continue carrying me like this.
"I'm not tired," he replied, his voice flat and distant.
I fell silent, rage building inside me. Who cares if you're tired? That wasn't the point.
"Are you doing this on purpose?" I couldn't keep the bitterness from my voice. "If you were too afraid to face me before, why put on this show now?" The memory of waiting six hours for him in Europe still stung like an open wound.
Marcus looked down at me, his eyes unreadable. "Who said I was afraid?"
I laughed internally. Six hours. Six entire hours! What else could that mean?
"Uncle Marcus, I know you're a busy man, but surely you wouldn't deliberately toy with me." I didn't directly reference those unspoken moments between us, choosing instead a more subtle approach to express my frustration.
I tilted my face up, meeting his gaze directly. My heart raced, but I forced a casual tone: "If you're so brave, carry me straight to the marriage registration office. Do you dare?"
His pupils contracted noticeably, and his face turned ashen. But I was beyond fear now, so I pushed further.
"Let's make this interesting. The city hall opens first thing tomorrow morning. We could be first in line to register. Wouldn't that be something?"
"Shut up," he growled, his low voice vibrating with barely contained anger.
My smile slowly faded. I had gambled that he would react differently, and I'd clearly lost. Bitterness flooded my mouth, but I maintained my façade of nonchalance, shrugging slightly. "Opportunity knocks but once, Uncle Marcus. Think about it."
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and my heart sank with them.
Marcus strode out, still carrying me. I turned my face into his chest, surreptitiously wiping the corner of my eye against his jacket. By the time I looked up again, I'd reconstructed my bright, composed expression.
When he finally set me down beside my car, I took a deep breath, determined to end this charade.
"Uncle Marcus, you've missed your chance," I said, meeting his eyes with a steadiness that surprised even me.
Marcus stared back, saying nothing.
I challenged his gaze. "So please stop with these gestures that could be misinterpreted." My chest ached, but I knew this clarity was necessary—for both of us.
He didn't offer explanations. Instead, he reached out and gently touched the top of my head. "I'm returning to Europe tomorrow morning, so there won't be opportunities for misunderstandings. Take care of yourself. If you encounter problems you can't solve, go to my father."
His hand moved to my cheek, and I couldn't help glaring at him. I could feel my cheeks puffing slightly with indignation, my lips pressed into a pout.
I noticed his gaze drop to my lips, and for a breathless moment, I thought he might kiss me. My heartbeat stuttered as I waited for a kiss that might never come again. But he withdrew his hand, his eyes darkening as whatever impulse he'd felt was crushed by his iron self-control.
Suddenly, a white-hot rage tore through me—the pain of rejection and dismissal burning my chest from the inside out.
"Marcus Murphy, you bastard!" I shouted, the volume of my own voice startling me.
Catherine and Jasmine rushed over, shocked by my outburst.
Regret instantly followed my explosion. What right did I have to call him names? I was carrying another man's children in my womb—how could I justify being angry with him? This realization extinguished my fury immediately.
A cool breeze swept past, clearing my head. He and I belonged to different worlds. From his words, I understood he would visit Skyview City even less frequently, perhaps returning once every few years as he had before.
A future Skyview City without Marcus Murphy. The thought cut like a knife, but I quickly composed myself and said with a dry voice, "Safe travels, Uncle Marcus.”
When Clayton brought the car around, I hurried inside, desperate to escape this torturous goodbye.
Marcus knocked on the window. I wanted to ignore him, but the window automatically lowered.
"Sorry, Ms. Shaw. I pressed the wrong button," Clayton apologized.
I glared at Marcus standing outside. Like an overprotective father, he launched into a litany of concerns: "Don't worry about the Skylake District project. I guarantee it won't lose money."
"If you feel unwell, tell my father immediately. He'll make arrangements for you."
"Watch out for the Simpson family. George Simpson wants to use Skylake District to climb the social ladder. Since you've taken that from him, he won't let it go easily."
"And that Logan Porter—avoid confrontation with him. He's somewhat obsessive, and I worry he might harm you."
"Annie..." he began again.
I couldn't bear to hear more, my heart constricting painfully. I cut him off: "Uncle Marcus, I managed perfectly well without you before, and I'll continue to do so. Thank you for your concern. Get some rest. Goodbye, Uncle Marcus."
Then I instructed Clayton: "Drive."
Rachel quickly got in, and Clayton pulled away. Through the rearview mirror, I watched Marcus standing motionless, his expression unreadable. I knew he had more to say, but perhaps some words were better left unspoken.