One Night Stand With My Ex's Uncle

Chapter 26: The Ghost at the Garden Gate

Anna’s POV

I watched Marcus’s car disappear down the driveway, a curious warmth blooming in my chest. The truckload of supplies he’d delivered for my grandmother’s birthday was more than generous it was overwhelming. I stood there for a moment, letting the quiet hum of gratitude settle over me before turning back toward the house, questions swirling in my mind.

Inside, Grandmother was still smiling, her eyes gleaming with a light I hadn’t seen since before my father passed. The sight made my heart ache with bittersweet joy.

"Grandmother," I said, easing down beside her on the sofa, "all these gifts... are they really from William? Did he ask Marcus to deliver them?"

She patted my hand gently, her voice soft but certain. "Of course, they’re from William. He called me just this morning." Her expression grew thoughtful. "He said you’re recently divorced and that your grandmother’s birthday party must be nothing short of perfect. He doesn’t want anyone whispering behind your back or looking down on us."

A wave of emotion rushed through me. William had always been considerate, treating us like family when even my own relatives kept their distance. I leaned in and hugged my grandmother, breathing in the familiar scent of her lavender perfume.

"You don’t need to worry about me," I said with quiet confidence. "Everything’s under control. I’ve completely resolved the Phoenix Project issues Lucy’s been removed, and control is back with Shaw Corp. We even gained an extra two percent in profit."

I pulled back and met her eyes. "Like you always say, Grandmother, divorce isn’t the end of the world."

Her face lit up. "That’s wonderful! I knew my Annie would take care of things." She chuckled and gave my hand a squeeze. "Very well, we’ll stick to ten tables for the celebration. As for those fair-weather friends just waiting for us to stumble we won’t invite them."

"Exactly," I said, a smile tugging at my lips as the pressure in my chest eased.

The morning of the celebration, I was reviewing the final logistics when my mother’s voice pierced the calm.

"Annie! What are we going to do?" she cried, hurrying into the study with her heels clicking against the floor, her perfectly styled hair slightly askew. "The Turner and Hill families just confirmed they’re coming! And the Reeds and Walkers too. We haven’t socialized with them in years! That’s already several extra tables!"

I set down my tablet, absorbing the shift in plans without panic.

"I’ve already called Marcus," I replied, calm and collected. "Reinforcements are on the way."

"But the seating arrangements! The place settings—" My mother’s voice was nearing a full spiral.

I gently steered her toward the stairs. "Go upstairs, touch up your makeup, change into something you love, and then come down and greet our guests. I’ll take care of the rest."

She hesitated, then gave a small nod, her shoulders relaxing just slightly. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

Rachel appeared at my side, tablet in hand. "Peter Reed just called. Mr. Murphy is sending additional staff and supplies. They’ll be here within the hour."

By mid-afternoon, the garden at Shaw Estate had been transformed into an elegant, sun-drenched reception. I stood near the entrance in a tailored cream suit and pale blue silk blouse. A single strand of pearls adorned my neck, the earrings catching the sunlight each time I moved. Every detail had been chosen with care professional, feminine, and gracefully authoritative.

"Anna!" Catherine called out as she approached, kissing both my cheeks. Her eyes immediately landed on one of the fruit bowls. "This is exquisite! Gold-plated, isn’t it? Not tacky at all."

I smiled and brushed my fingers along the ornate rim. "They were part of my mother’s dowry. My grandfather only had one daughter, so when she married, he sent several complete dinnerware sets along with her."

Catherine’s expression turned wistful. "If your grandfather’s business hadn’t declined, the Shaws would easily rival the Simpsons today." She leaned in, her voice dropping. "Tell me you didn’t invite Jack."

"Of course not," I said firmly, my expression hardening. "Why would I let him ruin a perfectly good day?"

Before she could respond, a familiar, booming voice rolled across the garden.

"Annie!" William Murphy’s voice rang out as he approached, walking stick tapping steadily, Marcus following just behind. "What a splendid affair! Margaret must be thrilled."

I smiled as I embraced him. "William, thank you for coming. And for everything you’ve done to help."

He waved off the gratitude with a warm smile. "Elizabeth, Margaret you both look radiant," he said as my mother and grandmother joined us. Then his gaze returned to me. "Annie is truly remarkable. A fine woman in business and in family. You’ve raised her exceptionally well."

The praise settled deep in my heart. The Murphys’ loyalty had always been real rare in a city where alliances shifted with the wind.

My eyes drifted to Marcus, who stood nearby, observing quietly, as always. I walked over, hands clasped, a playful smile on my lips.

"Thank you, Uncle Marcus. You really saved the day."

Without warning, he reached out and ruffled the top of my head. I froze for a beat, startled.

Then Marcus smiled slightly, his tone gentle. "You’ve grown up, Anne. Hosting such an important event... I’m proud."

Hearing him use my childhood nickname stirred something inside me. I smiled warmly. "Thanks to your help. I owe you dinner."

Before he could answer, Rachel reappeared, leaning in to whisper, "Ms. Shaw, Mr. Simpson is here."

My smile faded.

The real test had just walked in.

Jack’s POV

Music and laughter spilled from the magnificent garden behind the mansion. I followed the stone path around the side of the house, my footsteps measured and deliberate. Each step stirred memories of when I’d walked these grounds as family not as an uninvited ghost haunting the periphery. noveldrama

The garden had been transformed into an enchanted paradise. Round tables draped in cream silk dotted the manicured lawn, each adorned with elaborate floral arrangements. Waiters in crisp white jackets wove through the crowd with practiced grace, balancing silver trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres.

I recognized most of the guests immediately Sky-view City’s elite mingling in their finest attire, air kissing and trading gossip beneath the twinkling lights. My gaze swept across the garden, searching for one face in particular.

I found her near the center of the gathering. Anna Shaw my ex-wife, the woman I’d once believed would be mine forever. The sight of her still had the power to make my chest tighten, though these days it was hard to separate longing from resentment.

But she wasn’t alone.

Standing beside her, his tall frame commanding attention even in stillness, was my uncle. Marcus Murphy. His head bent slightly toward hers as she laughed at something he’d said. The intimacy of the gesture made my blood simmer.

"Mr. Simpson," she greeted, her lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "What a surprise to see you here. Welcome."

Her tone made it perfectly clear that I wasn’t welcome at all that she was merely observing social niceties. My jaw clenched involuntarily.

"Anna," I nodded, my gaze sliding between her and Marcus. They stood too close. Too comfortable. The sight burned like acid in my stomach. How transparent they are. Is he openly pursuing her now?

"I wouldn’t miss Margaret’s birthday," I replied coolly. "I was her grandson-in-law, after all. Invited or not, I had to come."

Before dinner, Daniel Davis, Anna’s assistant, tapped a microphone, drawing everyone’s attention to the small stage set up near the house.

Anna stood beside him, her smile genuine as she addressed the gathered guests.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming to celebrate my grandmother’s eightieth birthday," she began, her voice clear and confident.

"As you know, Margaret Shaw has never been one for extravagant displays, but she’s made an exception today because she wanted to share this milestone with all of you the people who’ve made her life so rich and full."

I watched her from the shadows, nursing my scotch. She’d always been captivating when she spoke, commanding attention without seeming to try. It was one of the first things that had drawn me to her.

"And now," she continued, "I’d like to begin the presentation of gifts. While Grandmother insisted on ’no presents, please’ on the invitations—" this drew knowing laughter from the crowd "—some of us simply couldn’t resist."

Daniel stepped forward, a list in hand, and began announcing the gifts one by one. Most were predictably lavish jewelry, rare books, sculptures from renowned artists. Elizabeth Shaw presented a stunning original painting for her mother, drawing appreciative murmurs from the crowd.

When it was Anna’s turn, Daniel’s voice took on an extra note of pride.

"From Ms. Anna Shaw to her beloved grandmother, Margaret: a sapphire bracelet."

My grip tightened around my glass as Anna unveiled the familiar blue velvet box. Inside lay the exact sapphire bracelet we’d fought over at the auction the one she’d ultimately won for twenty million dollars while I’d tried to drive up the price out of spite.

Anna fastened it around Margaret’s wrist with tender care, the brilliant blue stones catching the light as the elderly woman admired her granddaughter’s gift.

Daniel continued reading from his list, but I barely registered the names and gifts. My thoughts had turned inward, memories of that day at the auction house playing through my mind like a movie I couldn’t switch off. Anna’s cold fury when she’d realized I was deliberately bidding against her. The disappointment in her eyes that had cut deeper than any words could have.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I almost missed the announcement that made the entire garden fall silent.

"From Mr. Marcus Murphy," Daniel’s voice rang out, "a historic mansion in the Skylake District."

My head snapped up, eyes widening in disbelief. I scanned the crowd until I found Marcus, standing tall and impassive near the front. Anna was beside him, her expression a mask of perfectly controlled surprise.

"The property," Daniel continued, "was the childhood home of Elizabeth Shaw, returned now to the Shaw family after three generations."

A collective gasp rippled through the audience, followed immediately by excited murmurs.

Two hundred million dollars. Marcus Murphy had just casually gifted a two-hundred-million-dollar mansion to his... what?

Friend’s mother?

My mind refused to accept the obvious implication.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I recognized the mansion. It was the mansion the one I’d bid on at the auction, the one that had gone to a mysterious buyer for two hundred million dollars. The same mansion that was central to Simpson Group’s plans for the Skylake District redevelopment project.

My uncle was the mystery buyer. All this time, it was Marcus.

The realization hit me like a physical blow. I’d spent weeks trying to track down the buyer, desperate to negotiate a sale or partnership for the Skylake project. And all along, it had been my uncle the same uncle who now stood so comfortably close to my ex-wife.

"That mansion..." Calvin’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. "Isn’t that the one your uncle outbid you for at the auction?"

I couldn’t answer, my throat suddenly dry as sand.

"Why would he give such an expensive property to the Shaws?" Luke wondered aloud, his eyes narrowed in speculation.

I watched as Margaret embraced Marcus, tears in her eyes as she thanked him for returning a piece of her family’s history. Elizabeth was openly weeping, clutching the deed papers to her chest as if they might disappear if she loosened her grip.

And Anna... Anna’s expression as she looked at my uncle made my chest constrict painfully. It wasn’t love, not yet, but there was something there respect, gratitude, admiration the building blocks of deeper feeling.

My grip on my glass tightened to the point where I feared it might shatter in my hand. The mansion had been my key to the Skylake District development a project that could have restored Simpson Group’s prestige and secured our financial future for generations. Now it was gone, handed over to the Shaw family with a smile and a bow.

"Jack," Calvin’s voice cut through my thoughts again, "does your uncle know about Simpson Group’s interest in the Skylake District? That he’s just torpedoed your entire development plan?"

I didn’t respond.

Because I wasn’t sure what was worse the fact that Marcus didn’t know...or that he did.