One Night Stand With My Ex's Uncle-Chapter 159: Who Did You Say Is Dead?

Anna’s POV

I stood frozen in the hospital corridor, my mind still reeling from Mary Simpson’s venomous words. The phone trembled in my hand—Marcus still hadn’t answered my video call.

Each unanswered ring drove another shard of ice deeper into my heart.

Suddenly, Rachel’s panicked voice cut through my spiraling thoughts.

"Ms. Shaw, your water broke!"

I looked down in confusion. A clear liquid was pooling around my feet, soaking through my expensive maternity dress. My body had made the decision while my mind was paralyzed with fear.

Rachel shoved Clayton’s shoulder, her voice sharp with urgency. "What are you standing there for? Go get the doctor now!"

Clayton snapped out of his shock and sprinted down the corridor, his footsteps echoing against the sterile walls. The surreal quality of the moment made everything seem distant, as if I were watching someone else’s life unfold.

The elevator doors slid open, and Mom rushed out, her face creased with worry. She spotted the growing puddle at my feet and ran toward me.

"Your water broke? How did this happen? Come on, we need to get you to maternity right away."

I’d always prided myself on being the calm one, the Shaw woman who could handle anything with cool efficiency.

But as the reality of the situation crashed over me, my carefully maintained composure crumbled. A primal fear gripped my chest, making it impossible to breathe properly.

_Is he dead? The thought flashed through my mind, but I immediately rejected it._Impossible. Absolutely not._

Marcus Murphy couldn’t be gone. Not now. Not when our children were about to enter the world. Yet my face drained of all color, my eyes wide and unfocused, my chest heaving with short, painful breaths.

Mom placed gentle hands on my shoulders. "Annie, don’t be afraid, Mom’s here."

Any other time, I would have been the one reassuring everyone else. Now, I could only bite my lip, unable to form a single word. My silence alarmed her even more.

"Annie, what’s wrong? Are you in pain? Or is something else bothering you?" Mom’s voice trembled with concern.

Rachel’s voice cut through the moment, cold and precise. "Mrs. Shaw, Mary Simpson was just here, she said..." She hesitated, clearly reluctant to continue.

"She said Mr. Murphy has been in an accident. That’s why Ms. Shaw’s water broke suddenly. She was fine before."

"What? Marcus had an accident? What happened?" Mom’s hand flew to her mouth.

"Mary Simpson said Mr. Murphy... is gone." Rachel’s words fell like stones in still water.

"Oh my God..." Mom swayed slightly, her face ashen.

If my always-strong mother reacted this way, it made the impact of the news on me all the more devastating. I felt hollowed out, as it someone had scooped away everything inside me, leaving only an empty shell.

Mom quickly pushed aside her own shock, focusing entirely on me. "Annie, don’t be afraid. Mom’s here, don’t worry." She squeezed my hand, her voice artificially steady. "Marcus is definitely fine, you have to believe in him. He’s so capable, he’ll definitely be okay."

I remained mute, a boulder crushing my chest, making each breath a struggle. The sensation mirrored my recurring nightmares-my soul trapped in endless darkness, invisible hands dragging me down, a relentless force pulling me into hell itself.

My blank expression terrified Mom.

Tears spilled down her cheeks unchecked. Before, the sight of her crying would have shattered my heart, but now I felt nothing. My hands clenched into tight fists, my body trembling slightly.

"Annie, please don’t scare me like this, look at me." Mom’s voice broke.

"Marcus is fine, don’t worry, okay?

Think about the babies, relax, try to relax a little, Annie."

A commotion at the end of the corridor announced Clayton’s return.

He rushed toward us with a doctor and a gurney. They quickly transferred me from the wheelchair, their faces serious as they assessed my condition.

As they wheeled me rapidly toward the delivery ward, my body moved with them, but my mind remained locked in a terrible loop. Marcus Murphy, the man I’d finally allowed myself to love, might be gone forever.

Mary’s POV

Their faces were drawn with worry-exactly what I’d hoped to see. My lips curled into a satisfied smile. Anna Shaw’s perfect little world was finally crumbling, just as it should.

"I heard someone’s water broke," I called out, infusing my voice with artificial concern. "How is Anna doing?"

Elizabeth’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowing at the sound of my voice.

The perfect society matron’s mask dropped instantly, revealing something feral underneath. Before I could register what was happening, she lunged forward.

*Crack!*

The slap landed with shocking force, sending a burst of white-hot pain across my cheek. I stumbled backward, my hand flying to my face in disbelief.

"You *dare* strike me?" I gasped, the burn of humiliation worse than the physical sting.

"I’ll do more than strike you, you vicious snake!" Elizabeth snarled, looking nothing like the demure southern lady she pretended to be.

"You deliberately upset my daughter while she’s carrying twins!"

She grabbed my carefully styled hair with surprising strength, yanking hard enough to bring tears to my eyes. My scalp felt like it was on fire as she pulled.

"If anything happens to my daughter or my grandchildren," she hissed, her breath hot against my face, "I’ll make you wish you’d never been born."

Clayton stood frozen, his mouth hanging open stupidly. Rachel-that cunning little weasel-rushed forward with a performance worthy of an Academy Award.

"Please calm down, Mrs. Simpson is still a Murphy by birth! We must respect the Murphy family!" She wrapped her arms around my waist in what appeared to be restraint.

I immediately recognized the trap when her grip tightened, pinning my arms at an awkward angle. Each time I tried to break free, she’d jerk me backward, throwing me off balance while Elizabeth attacked.

Elizabeth’s manicured nails raked across my cheek, leaving trails of fire in their wake. My eyes watered from the shocking pain as she struck again and again.

"You heartless witch! You’ll pay for this!" I screamed, my voice echoing down the sterile hallway as my beautiful handbag crashed to the floor, immediately trampled under their feet.

"UNHAND ME THIS INSTANT!" I shrieked, writhing against Rachel’s iron grip. "Do you know who I am? I am Mary Murphy Simpson! When my father hears about this"

Lucy’s POV

I stood frozen in the sterile hospital corridor, unable to process the scene unfolding before me. Elizabeth Shaw— the always composed southern lady— had transformed into something feral as she lunged at Mary Simpson, her manicured nails raking across Mary’s perfectly made-up face.

"You vicious snake!" Elizabeth snarled, her voice barely recognizable. "You deliberately upset my daughter while she’s carrying twins!"

My fingers trembled as I pulled out my phone and frantically dialed Jack.

This situation was spiraling dangerously out of control.

"Jack, you need to come immediately.

Your mother and Mrs. Shaw are physically fighting—in the hospital!" The words tumbled out in a panicked rush. I needed this call on record; if I didn’t alert Jack now, Id inevitably be blamed later.

Rachel had Mary pinned in what appeared to be restraint but was clearly designed to leave her vulnerable to Elizabeth’s fury. Each time Mary attempted to break free, Rachel would jerk her backward, throwing her off balance.

I rushed forward into the fray.

Whatever my feelings toward Mary, I couldn’t just stand by and watch. My attempt at peacekeeping earned me several painful blows——a scratch along my forearm burned like fire, and someone’s elbow caught me in the ribs.

"Please stop! Anna is inside giving birth! Stop fighting!" I shouted, desperate to inject some rationality into the situation.

Elizabeth’s movements faltered at the mention of her daughter, but Mary seized the opportunity to lunge forward. Without thinking, I stepped between them, and pain exploded across my cheek as Mary’s hand connected with my face instead of its intended target.

My skin throbbed with white-hot pain, but I swallowed the fury rising in my throat. Rachel reacted instantly, somehow managing to maneuver Mary away from Elizabeth and practically tossing her into my arms.

"YOU—" Mary shrieked, attempting to launch herself at Elizabeth again, but Rachel’s iron grip on her wrist prevented any movement.

"Mrs. Simpson, if you continue this behavior, I won’t be so polite," Rachel warned, her voice cold enough to freeze blood.

I stared down at the wild-eyed, disheveled woman in my arms. Her hair stuck out at absurd angles, mascara streaked down her cheeks, and pure rage distorted her features into something barely recognizable.

"How dare you treat me like this?"

Mary’s voice climbed several octaves, vibrating with indignation.

Elizabeth pointed a trembling finger at her, her eyes rimmed with red. "I could kill you right now! Mary Simpson, I’m warning you-if anything happens to my daughter, I’ll take you down with me!"

I felt Mary flinch against me, but her mouth twisted into something cruel as she spat: "Anna Shaw and those bastards in her belly should die! They can all join Marcus in his grave!"

The viciousness of her words made my arms instinctively tighten around her.

My stomach churned with disgust.

How could she wish death upon a woman in labor?

Mary made a futile attempt to fix her disheveled hair, her red-rimmed eyes narrowing. "Don’t think I don’t know the truth. Those twins in her belly aren’t Marcus’s. Now that Marcus is gone, you still expect these bastards to inherit his fortune? I won’t let that happen!"

"You... you..." Elizabeth stammered, her face flushing dangerously red.

I noticed hospital staff peering anxiously around corners, none brave enough to intervene. Of course-this was a Simpson-owned hospital. Who would dare reprimand a Simpson family member?

"Let’s go." I tugged gently at Mary’s sleeve, keeping my voice soft and persuasive.

Mary lifted her chin defiantly. "I’m not leaving. I want to see if that bitch Anna Shaw lives or dies!"

"Mrs. Simpson, you’re going too far!"

Rachel’s voice cracked with barely contained rage.

Clayton stepped forward, his face like stone. "Are you leaving or not?"

"Marcus is dead! You’d better show some respect!" Mary shouted back.

Suddenly, a thunderous voice boomed from the end of the corridor: "Who did you say is dead?"

A chill rippled through me at the sound. Mary stiffened, then slowly turned.