The Billionaire's Mistake (Anya and Daniel)

Chapter 69: Pollow

“Business partner? Just because we used your services a few times, you think you can call yourselves our business partners? My son just managed to bring his wife home, and your daughter is acting up. You should be asking yourself if that business you are so proud of will still be standing soon!”

The two women were insistent, the tension between them palpable through the phone line. Neither was willing to back down, each determined to defend their own child at all costs.

Finally, Daniel’s mother spoke, her voice filled with a sneer. “I’m sorry, but you can’t blame me because of your rejected goods. Even if she wants to be a mistress, the door of my house is Tocked,” she said firmly. “If you can’t keep her in check, then perhaps it’s best if the world teaches her a lesson.” With that, the line went dead.

Selene’s mother’s eyes flashed with anger at the dismissal; the ridiculous nature of this situation made her breathless, and her vision immediately went dark

Anya stepped out of the Shaw family home, the crisp air of the fall afternoon greeting her. With a sense of ease, she set off towards the bustling streets of the city. She had been idle at home all this while. Daniel would come back early just to talk to her or annoy her; she was not sure which one. He wanted to eat with her at all times, called her too many times in the day, and came back with gifts almost every day. No matter how she tried, she could not get used to this new Daniel. She always felt that he had some sort of motive that she did not know of.

Today, she left the mansion because she wanted to walk around. She had a small bookstore she usually patronized frequently and wanted to see if they had any new titles. As she walked out of the house, Mr. Jackson, who had just finished cleaning the car, asked if she was stepping out. Sh

nodded and said yes. NôvelDrama.Org content rights.

“Let me have the car prepared; I will take you,” he said. He was Old Master Shaw’s driver. Even though Anya knew that there were other people available to take her if she needed, she wanted to drive today.

“No, I want to drive myself today. The whether looks nice,” Anya said. She had him hand her

the key to a black Porsche before he left. She drove out of the familiar driveway and made her way into the city. It was not long before she was at her favorite bookstore.

Entering the quaint bookstore on the corner, Anya breathed in the familiar scent of paper and ink. The shelves were lined with rows upon rows of books, their colorful spines beckoning to her like old friends. She meandered through the aisles, trailing her fingers along the bindings, searching for the perfect escape from reality.

Anya felt her back heat up; the feeling of being watched came over her, and she turned around sharply to find no one. She was in a secluded part of the shop and was the only one in the aisle of shelves. This made her uncomfortable, so she walked over to where people were and continued looking around. Soon, she felt the same sensation come over her again.

Anya glanced over her shoulder, but the other patrons seemed lost in their own worlds, oblivious to her unease. She stopped and looked around, wondering if she was imagining it.

Shaking off the sensation, Anya selected a few titles and made her way to the checkout counter. But as she stood in line, the feeling of being watched intensified, sending a shiver down her spine. She cast a furtive glance around the store, but there was no one nearby who could account for the sensation.

Anya paid for her books and stepped out onto the sidewalk, the cool breeze providing little relief from the oppressive sense of dread that hung in the air.

The day was so nice; she did not want to go back just yet. Since she was already outside, she decided to visit an art supply store a few blocks away, hoping the change of scenery would ease

her nerves a bit..

As she entered the store, Anya was greeted by a familiar smell of paint and graphite. She walked around, sampling new colors and getting a new set of brushes. She had hurried over from Lincoln City, so she did not bring a lot of her art supplies with her. She got some new things as she walked around. But before she could forget her unease, Anya suddenly felt she was being watched, that she was being followed again. Every aisle she turned down, every shelf she perused, the sensation persisted, like being hunted by a ghost. She tried to brush it off, chalking it up to paranoia, but the feeling only grew stronger with each passing moment.

With her nerves frayed and her heart pounding, Anya abandoned getting more things and moved to the checkout to pay.

As she placed the supplies in the back of the car, she felt a person near and turned sharply in fear. But a few people just walked by undisturbed. Her heart had flown into her throat. She could no longer stay around. She hurriedly put away her things and got into the car and rove away. While driving, she found herself constantly checking her rear–view mirror for cars behind her. She found that a particular red Maserati followed her closely. She could not help but speed up. As she kept track of it, while increasing her speed, a small sedan shut forward and dashed in front of her. She pressed down on the brake quickly and swerved out of the way till she skidded towards the front entrance of a building and stopped.

She was not sure if she had hit someone. She could not help but notice the door to the red Maserati open and a person in a black leather jacket emerge. She opened the door quickly to step out and

noticed that the driver of the sedan was furiously approaching. Panic filled her, and she looked around at the spectators, who had gathered in confusion. She found that this building was familiar. She saw the Shaw Group logo and walked into the building without looking back before the doorman could react.

She was at Shaw Group headquarters. As Anya walked in, her heart drummed with a mixture of fear and anticipation. She approached the front desk at first before stopping and just making her way to the elevator. At which point, the receptionist and doorman hurried over to stop her.

“I need to see Daniel, Daniel Shaw,” she said to the receptionist, her voice trembling slightly.” It’s urgent.”

Anya’s heart raced as they blocked her way; her panic rose, and her palms were growing clammy with nerves. The receptionist, a stern–faced woman with perfectly coiffed hair and sharp, assessing eyes, regarded Anya with a hint of skepticism.

“Do you have an appointment, Madam?” The receptionist inquired, her tone cool and professional.

“No, yes, I need to see Daniel,” Anya replied, her voice filled with panic. She looked behind her in fear to find that the driver of the sedan was walking in, but was stopped by the second. doorman. She noticed that the man in the leather jacket paused at the door.

The receptionist raised an eyebrow, her expression unyielding. “Do you have an appointment?” she asked, her tone bordering on indifferent. She did not understand where this woman came from. No matter how they stood in her way, she only kept inching forward.

Anya shook her head, her nerves escalating with each passing second. “No, but it’s urgent,” she insisted, her voice speaking with desperation.