One Night Stand With My Ex's Uncle

Mary’s POV

I stretched my legs across the sofa, wincing as the movement tugged at my bruised arm. That Elizabeth Shaw had more strength than I’d ever given her credit for. The scratches on my face stung, a constant reminder of my humiliation at the hospital.

My attention snapped to the foyer as the front door opened. George strode in with Pax Powell trailing behind him like some obedient lapdog. Neither spared me a glance as they headed straight for the staircase.

"George," I called out, my voice sharper than intended. "The police came by today."

He paused, one foot on the first step, and turned just enough to look at me over his shoulder. His expression could have frozen hell itself.

"Perhaps I should be asking you that question." His gaze swept over my injured face, his lip curling in disgust.

"Since you’ve managed to get yourselt mauled like some alley cat."

The casual cruelty of his words struck like physical blows. After these years of marriage, this was what I’d been reduced to—an eyesore he couldn’t stand to look at.

"Now that your face is ruined, do us all a favor and stay home where you won’t embarrass the family any further." He dismissed me with a wave, continuing up the stairs as if I were nothing more than the household help.

"You bastard—" I started to rise, my entire body trembling with rage.

Lucy appeared from nowhere, her fingers wrapping firmly around my wrist. "Mrs. Simpson, please," she whispered urgently.

I sank back onto the sofa, my chest heaving with indignation as George and Pax disappeared upstairs. The click of a door closing seemed to mock me.

"He’s never spoken to me that way before," I hissed, my voice barely audible.

Lucy knelt beside me, eyes darting toward the staircase to ensure we weren’t overheard. "Remember our plan," she murmured. "You and Mr. Simpson are still legally married.

There are certain... delicate matters where George’s intervention would be invaluable."

Her words doused the flames of my anger, replacing it with calculating clarity. _Of course_. As a Murphy daughter, certain moves would be unseemly for me to make directly. But George? He had nothing left to lose with the Murphy family.

"You’re right," I conceded, patting her hand. "Let him serve his purpose. We need him to help secure Jack’s rightful share of Marcus’s estate."

Lucy’s eyes gleamed with approval.

"Exactly, and afterward..."

"Afterward, I’ll toss him aside like the garbage he is." I squeezed her hand.

"And when that time comes, I’ll make sure you and Jack have my full support. You’re the daughter I never had, Lucy."

The way her face lit up at my words almost made me laugh. So transparent, so desperate for approval. But useful— undeniably useful.

My gaze drifted back to the staircase, unease seeping into my bones like winter chill. "Why has George suddenly returned to the main house?

He hasn’t slept here in months." I lowered my voice further. "The police were just here investigating the kidnapping. Don’t you find the timing suspicious?"

Lucy’s expression mirrored my concern. We both knew what George was capable of. My loose tongue and Lucy’s scheming were one thing, but George-George had true cruelty in him, the kind that left bodies in its wake.

"Take him some tea," I instructed, giving her a meaningful look. "See what you can overhear."

She nodded, understanding perfectly, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Minutes later, a pained cry echoed from upstairs. Lucy rushed down clutching her reddened hand, tears glistening in her eyes.

A maid quickly brought a basin of ice water.

"What happened?" I demanded as Lucy plunged her hand into the frigid water.

"He—he knocked the teacup from my hand," she whispered, wincing. "Said he didn’t ask for refreshments. I couldn’t hear anything important."

"That old fox," I muttered, frustration building inside me. "He’s plotting something big."

The front door slammed open. Jack stormed in, his face thunderous with rage. "Mother! Did you put the police onto Father? Is this another one of your schemes?"

The accusation stung worse than my injuries. My own son, taking that man’s side yet again.

"Me?" I laughed bitterly. "The police interrogated me for hours, and now my own son does the same? Why don’t you ask your father why he’s suddenly returned home today of all days? Quite the coincidence, wouldn’t you say?"

Jack’s expression shifted, doubt clouding his eyes. Without another word, he turned and took the stairs two at a time.

Within minutes, raised voices filtered down from George’s study. I couldn’t make out the words, but the tone was unmistakable—rage, accusation, betrayal.

Lucy moved to stand, concern etched across her face. "Shouldn’t we do something?"

I settled deeper into the sofa, unexpected calm washing over me.

"Why rush? The higher George rises in Jack’s estimation, the harder the fall will be." I smiled coldly. "Let Jack see the monster behind his father’s mask.

It will only drive him closer to me in the end."

Jack’s POV

I stood before my father in his study, my heart clenched like it was caught in a vise. The expensive leather-bound books lining the walls and the desk between us seemed to mock the ugliness of our conversation.

"I just want to know one thing," I said, struggling to keep my voice steady.

"Does Anna’s baby’s kidnapping have anything to do with you?"

Father slammed his pen holder against the desk. The sharp crack echoed through the room as his eyes flashed with that imperious authority I’d grown to resent.

"For Anna Shaw, you fight with your mother and now with me? Is there nothing in that head of yours except Anna Shaw?" His voice was dangerously low.

Each word hammered against my chest. I didn’t care how terrible I looked at that moment-I needed to know.

"I just want to know if Anna’s baby’s kidnapping has anything to do with you," I repeated, my voice trembling with suppressed rage.

Father exploded. "What if it does?

What if it doesn’t? When will you grow up and understand I’m your father! Not your enemy!"

My pupils dilated with shock, my heart skipping a beat. He hadn’t denied it-which was as good as a confession. "So... you did it?" My voice dropped to barely a whisper.

He froze momentarily, realizing his slip. Then he waved his hand dismissively, Skyview City’s financial titan suddenly looking uncharacteristically flustered.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about. Get out. Don’t bother me."

Watching him refuse to admit the truth, disappointment flooded through me like a tidal wave. The gap between us felt unbridgeable.

"First you kidnap Anna, now you take her child. Why are you so determined to destroy the Shaw family?" I asked, my voice raw with heartache. "Where’s the baby?"

"OUT!" Father roared.

I knew pressing him further was pointless. He’d never give me answers.

As I turned to leave, bitterness coated my tongue like metal. When had my father become this person?

I was heading for the front door, anger still pulsing through my veins, when the butler’s announcement stopped me in my tracks: "Ms. Shaw is here to see you."

I stared in disbelief. Anna was supposed to be in the hospital.

November winds were cutting through Skyview City like knives—why would she come here?

"Show her in immediately," I said, worry rising in my chest.

Anna entered our living room with Rachel and Sean flanking her. Clayton was noticeably absent-likely assisting police in the search. Anna was bundled in a thick down coat, only her piercing eyes visible, yet her commanding presence filled the room.

Mother’s face instantly hardened, hostility radiating from her rigid posture on the sofa.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped, making no attempt to hide her animosity.

Lucy gently tugged at Mother’s sleeve, trying to defuse the situation. "Mrs. Simpson, there might be some misunderstanding between Ms. Shaw and our family. She’s probably here about her child. We should talk properly." She turned to the butler, "It’s freezing outside. Please bring Ms. Shaw some hot water, no tea."

Then to Anna: "Ms. Shaw, please sit down."

Mother fell silent though her expression remained thunderous. I understood her feelings—Anna’s visits to the Simpson mansion never brought good news.

Anna removed her heavy coat, her voice ice-cold. "Is Mr. Simpson home?

I’m here to see him."

Looking at her pale face and determined eyes, pain lanced through my chest. She’d just lost her child yet found the strength to come here demanding answers. I felt both admiration for her resilience and shame for what my father might have done.

"He’s upstairs. Have a seat. I’ll call him for you," I said softly, turning toward the staircase with my heart in my throat.

George’s POV

I was buried in financial reports when Pax knocked on my study door.

"Mr. Simpson, Ms. Shaw is here to see you." His voice carried an unusual tension.

My fountain pen froze mid-signature.

Anna Shaw? Here? The woman had given birth days ago and should be confined to a hospital bed. Something was terribly wrong.

By the time I descended to our grand living room, Mary was already glaring daggers at Anna. Jack stood awkwardly by the fireplace, his expression a mixture of concern and shame. Lucy hovered near Mary, playing the considerate daughter-in-law by offering Anna hot water.

Anna had removed her heavy winter coat despite the November chill outside. Her face was ghostly pale, but those eyes... they burned with a cold fire that made my skin prickle. Rachel and Sean Smith flanked her like bodyguards.

"Mr. Simpson," Anna began without preamble, "I’Il be direct. I’m here to make a business proposition."

I arranged my features into a mask of mild curiosity. "Business? At this hour?"

"You’ve always wanted Skylake District." Her voice was steady, clinical.

"Return my son to me safely, and I’ll sign over all my shares in the district to you. Immediately and without conditions."

The room plunged into suffocating silence. Skylake District-the crown jewel of Skyview City real estate, the property I’d schemed for years to acquire. Now being offered freely.

*She knows.*

I fought to control my breathing while scanning the room. Jack’s face had turned crimson with mortification.

Mary’s eyes darted between Anna and me, suspicion blooming across her features. Even Pax seemed frozen in disbelief.

I cleared my throat, buying precious seconds to compose myself. "I don’t understand what you’re implying. If your child is missing, shouldn’t you be working with the police instead of making bizarre accusations?’

Anna’s gaze never wavered. "The police are already involved. Every exit from Skyview City has been blocked.

They’re conducting a city-wide search as we speak."

My collar felt suddenly tight against my throat. This wasn’t supposed to escalate so quickly.

"Even if you offered me the entire Shaw Corporation, I couldn’t help you," I replied, infusing my voice with indignation. "Your child’s disappearance has nothing to do with me."

"Is that so?" Anna’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.

Mary bristled beside me. "The police have already questioned us. We know nothing about your missing baby.

Perhaps if you’d been more careful with your own child’s security instead of rushing over here to make wild accusations—"

’The man who took my son stabbed Logan Porter during his escape," Anna interrupted, her words falling like ice shards in the heated room. "He’s already been identified. It won’t take long to trace him back to whoever hired him."

*Logan Porter? Stabbed?* My stomach twisted. Doyle had promised a clean operation—no violence, no complications. Just leverage to force negotiations on Skylake.

"With the Murphy and Porter families now involved," Anna continued, rising to her feet, "this won’t simply disappear. I came here personally to offer a way out. Return my son unharmed, and you get what you’ve always wanted. The offer stands... for now."

She rebuttoned her coat methodically.

"Think carefully, Mr. Simpson. I’m willing to forget everything if my son comes home safely."

The front door closed behind her with a quiet click that somehow sounded like the sealing of a tomb.

"Logan Porter was stabbed?" Mary’s voice cracked the silence. "George, tell me you had nothing to do with this madness!"

I turned away, unable to meet the sudden doubt in her eyes.

"Preposterous accusations," I muttered, heading for the stairs. "Completely unfounded."