Jack's POV
The moment I heard Marcus had been injured, something inside me snapped. It wasn't concern-not even close. Instead, a strange, almost feverish energy coursed through my veins as I instructed my driver to take me to Rosa Villa.
The car pulled up to the gate, and I instructed the driver to wait. "I won't be long," I muttered, though I had no idea if that was true.
As I walked up the curved driveway, the evening air felt unusually heavy.
The gardens were immaculately maintained, soft lighting illuminating the carefully pruned trees and shrubs.
And then I saw him.
Marcus Murphy—my uncle, my mother's brother, the Murphy family golden boy-was sitting comfortably in the garden pavilion like he belonged there. Like he owned the place. He looked surprisingly at ease for someone who'd supposedly been injured. A book lay open in his lap, and he was sipping what appeared to be tea from one of Anna's finest china cups.
