One Night Stand With My Ex's Uncle

Anna’s POV

I watched his face anxiously, unsure how the business genius of the Murphy family would react. To my surprise, he simply said, "I understand," his voice gentle but firm.

He pulled me into an embrace, his hand stroking my hair. "I’Il explain to Grandpa William. But you might need to bring the children to Murphy Estate more often. He’s getting older, and seeing his great-grandchildren brings him joy."

I hadn’t expected him to acquiesce so readily, without requiring excuses or justifications. A wave of warmth washed through me, and I instinctively tightened my arms around his waist.

Thinking of everything this man had sacrificed for me, even undergoing a vasectomy, filled me with both gratitude and guilt. Yet the mere thought of marriage triggered an immediate resistance. The shadow of my previous marriage and concerns about the Murphy family’s complex business relationships left me hesitant.

"Don’t worry about it anymore," he murmured, as if reading my thoughts.

His lips curved into a slight smile.

"We’ll take it slow."

I tightened my arms around him, my emotions a tangled mess. I knew I was being unfair to Marcus. He had given so much, even risking his life to save my son. I enjoyed his love and protection while refusing to accept the potential risks of marriage and the complicated web of Murphy family business relationships. *I’m heartless and selfish*, I thought, shame curling through me.

I stared at my watch again, the tiny diamond markers glinting under the private dining room’s elegant lighting.

Almost ten-thirty. My chest tightened with the familiar ache of being away from the twins too long.

"Gentlemen, I’ve enjoyed our evening tremendously, but there are children waiting at home," I said, offering a practiced smile as I gathered my clutch. "I’m afraid I need to call it a night."

The two senior executives from Heritage Group nodded understandingly, their own expressions betraying similar exhaustion after three hours of negotiations. This was my seventh consecutive business dinner-I hadn’t eaten at home for nearly a month, with lunches completely booked for the past two weeks. The Skylake District project development was demanding every minute of my professional life.

Across the table, Keith Dunn’s bloodshot eyes narrowed as he refilled his glass for what must have been the sixth time. His tie hung loose around his collar, and the top buttons of his shirt were undone-a stark contrast to the impeccable appearance he’d presented at the start of dinner.

"Don’t rush off, Ms. Shaw," he drawled, pushing back his chair with a screech that set my teeth on edge. "I suspect you’re not just hurrying home to feed the babies, are you?"

His gaze dropped brazenly to my chest, lingering there with such deliberate lewdness that my skin prickled with disgust. A flash of heat surged up my spine, though my expression remained perfectly neutral.

I’d heard crude remarks at business dinners before, but Keith’s explicit disrespect was unusually offensive.

"Mr. Dunn has clearly had too much to drink," the older executive to my right muttered, shooting me an apologetic glance. "Let’s call it a night."

"Ms. Shaw, please go ahead," the other added. "We’ll be leaving shortly as well."

I nodded gratefully, sliding my chair back. As I turned to leave, a shadow fell across me. Keith had lunged forward, his hand reaching for my waist.

Thanks to my regular fitness routine, I easily sidestepped his unwanted advance. He stumbled into empty space, catching himself against a chair.

The executives looked mortified, but neither moved to intervene.

_Cowards_. With deliberate calm, I picked up the open bottle of white wine from the table and poured it directly over Keith’s head. The liquid soaked his carefully styled hair and ran in rivulets down his expensive suit.

"What the hell! Anna Shaw, are you crazy?" he sputtered, the wine shower seemingly sobering him instantly. His face flushed crimson, a vein pulsing visibly at his temple.

I placed the empty bottle on the table, my voice dropping to an arctic temperature. "Awake now, Mr. Dunn?

If so, go home to your wife. Touch the wrong person again, and you might lose more than your dignity."

"You bitch!" he shouted as I turned away. "You’re only brave because you have the Murphys backing you! Acting like some virtuous woman when your morals are probably looser than those Olympus Club girls. Where else would those two kids come from?’

I didn’t turn back, though his words stung like needles in my heart-not because he insulted me, but because he dragged my children into his vulgarity.

In the SUV, Rachel glanced at me through the rearview mirror. "Boss, this Keith Dunn has apparently been getting close to George Simpson recently."

"George Simpson?" I raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. At the dinner, I only knew that Keith wasn’t from Skyview City but came from Sovereign City’s Dunn family. "I wasn’t aware of that connection."

"It’s recent news. I just asked about it."

"Who told you?"

Rachel smiled proudly. "Pax Powell."

"How did you establish contact with Pax? I thought you avoided him before."

"I’m not sure if it was our little tree-tying incident in the cold that brought him to his senses," Rachel laughed, "but that guy now acts like a mouse seeing a cat whenever he spots me.

Remember how arrogant he was when he worked as Jack’s assistant? Acting like the chief advisor to the prince."

I massaged my temples, closing my eyes. "He assisted George Simpson in so many underhanded schemes. Now he’s trying to get on our good side, afraid he’ll go down with George when everything falls apart."

"That guy’s full of calculated moves,"

Rachel agreed.

Three days later, Rachel informed me that Keith Dunn had been assaulted by masked men, leaving him with a severely bruised face. I immediately looked toward Marcus, who sat across from me in his office at Murphy Estate.

"Someone harassed you?" His eyes narrowed with concern.

I waved my hand dismissively. "A minor issue. I handled it myself at the time." Then I added with a small smirk, "A man with such corrupt intentions was bound to get beaten up sooner or later."

Marcus’s expression turned stern.

"When I beat someone, I don’t hide behind masks. I do it face to face."