The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back-Chapter 71: I want to make Mum proud

The grand double doors of the Shepherd estate swung open, and Mr. Shepherd Sr. walks in, his presence as commanding as ever despite his graying hair and the slight stiffness in his gait. His sharp eyes scanned the expansive foyer, taking in the sight of all his grandchildren gathered together.

It was unusual, almost unheard of, for them to be home at the same time. His brows furrowed, and before he could even acknowledge the grand welcome, his deep voice cut through the murmurs.

"Stef and the baby are they alright?" His tone was firm, but a sliver of concern softened his expression.

Steve, the eldest of the Shepherd brothers, stepped forward. "They’re fine, Grandpa. We all just decided to take the day off to spend time with Stef."

Mr. Shepherd Sr. gave a slow nod, as if processing the rarity of such an event. His gaze shifted to Mara, who stood near the grand staircase with a smile. There was a quiet determination in her eyes, something reminiscent of her late mother.

"I want to make Mom proud," she said, her voice steady. "I’m taking over the foundation."

A silence settled over the room, thick with tension. The brothers exchanged glances, their expressions ranging from concern to disapproval.

"It’s too soon," Steve was the first to voice what they were all thinking. "You don’t have to do this right now."

Mara squared her shoulders, her chin lifting defiantly. "I need your support, not your objections. I am not a child that needs shielding."

Stanley sighed, rubbing his temple before explaining, "Stef, it’s not just about protecting you. The foundation is all Uncle Philip has left since Grandpa cut him off from the family inheritance."

At that, Mr. Shepherd Sr. let out a low, tired breath. His gaze darkened, as if recalling an old wound. "Philip was cut off for a reason. If he wanted any of the Shepherd businesses, he could have them. But not the foundation."

Mara’s brows knitted together. "Why? What is the foundation really about?"

Her grandfather’s eyes flickered with something dark before his face smoothed into an impassive mask. "It’s charity work," he said simply. "We donate vaccines, medicine, food, and support to the underprivileged around the world."

Mara nodded, but she wasn’t convinced, looking at her brothers, she knew they didn’t know either. There was something hidden in his tone, a hesitation that made Mara wonder why he wouldn’t tell her something she already knew. She could see it in the way her grandfather’s fingers tightened around the cane he didn’t even need for support.

"Then let me work with Uncle Philip," she suggested, her voice deceptively light. "He’s still family, and if he loves working in the foundation so much, he can teach me how to run the foundation." Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. Mara intends to do just that.

Stanley and Stanford grinned, clearly admiring her kindness. "You really are an angel, Stef," Stanford said warmly.

But Steve and Stefan remained silent, their sharp gazes studying her closely. They knew her better than anyone, and they could see beneath her composed exterior. She wasn’t just being kind—she had her own plans.

Mr. Shepherd Sr. exhaled through his nose, his decision is already made. "The foundation is yours now, Mara," he declared. "The running of it is entirely up to you."

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a sleek black tablet. When he handed it to her, she felt its weight—not just in her hands, but in the implications of what it contained.

"Place your palm on it," he instructed.

Mara obeyed, feeling a slight warmth under her skin as the device registered her biometric signature. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

"When the time comes," her grandfather continued, his voice quiet but firm, "you will be the only one able to access all the donations in our storage facilities."

Mara swallowed hard. She didn’t need to look up to know how deep the foundation runs.

She flicked her gaze to her brothers. Stanley and Stanford were still beaming with pride, utterly unaware. But Steve and Stefan—they knew something was off. Their expressions were carefully neutral, but in their eyes, she saw the same understanding that dawned in her own mind.

This wasn’t just about helping the underprivileged. The foundation was still hiding something and if Ethan was right, she had just been handed the key to it.

Later that evening, Mara sat alone in her room, the weight of the pendant around her neck heavier than ever. She held it between her fingers, tracing its edges as her thoughts swirled. Should she tell her brothers? Would they even believe her? Or worse, what if it put them in danger?

Why didn’t Grandpa want them to know the truth about the foundation?

Before she could dwell further, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. The name flashing on the screen made her heart tighten, Ethan.

She hesitated before answering. "Hey."

"Hey, beautiful," Ethan’s voice was warm, teasing. "How are you?"

"I’m fine," Mara replied, shifting on the bed. "What’s up?"

"When am I seeing you again?"

Mara sighed. "Ethan... I’ve forgiven you, but we’re not getting back together."

There was a pause before he spoke again, softer this time. "I know. I just wanted to check on you."

She pressed her lips together. Ethan had always been persistent. "I’ll find my way back to your heart," he added playfully, though there was a hint of sincerity in his voice.

Mara didn’t reply. Just then, she heard footsteps approaching her door.

"I have to go," she said quickly, ending the call before Ethan could protest.

She turned toward the door as Steve and Stefan walked into the room, closing and locking it behind them. Steve’s expression was serious as he stepped closer, reaching for his sister’s hand.

"Mara, you’re strong, and I admire your determination," he said, his grip firm yet comforting. "But Uncle Philip is a dangerous man. You need to stay away from the foundation."

"Yes," Stefan added, his voice low. "When we were kids, I overheard a conversation between him and Father. He threatened him, Stef."

Mara’s gaze sharpened. "What else do you know about Uncle Philip and the foundation?"

The brothers glanced at each other, surprised by her serious tone. It wasn’t just curiosity—she knew something.

"Wait," Steve narrowed his eyes. "What did you find out?"

Mara hesitated, trying to brush it off, but Steve wasn’t having it. "Talk to us," he urged.

With a sigh, Mara reached for the pendant around her neck. She pulled it off and slotted it into her laptop. The screen flickered to life, displaying files and encrypted documents. Steve and Stefan leaned in, their faces growing pale as they processed the information before them.

Shock settled in. Stefan exhaled sharply. "Does this mean... Uncle Philip knows about the death of our parents?"

Steve’s jaw clenched. "Who else knows about this, Mara?"

Mara hesitated before lying. "No one." She didn’t mention Ethan.

Steve studied her for a moment before nodding. "Good. I had no idea this was this bad," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. "I’ve heard whispers about it before, but I never knew it was real."

His expression hardened as he turned to Mara. "You can’t tell anyone. Especially not Stanley and Stanford."

Mara frowned. "Why?"

"Because they love Uncle Philip," Stefan answered grimly. "Not only are they hot-tempered, but they’d confront him without thinking. We can’t risk that."

Mara exhaled slowly before closing the laptop and slipping the pendant back around her neck.

Steve stepped forward again. "Promise me, Mara. You’re not going to do anything reckless. And you’re definitely not going to the foundation alone."

Mara looked between her brothers, the unspoken warning clear in their eyes.

She gave a small nod. "I won’t." But deep down, she knew she couldn’t walk away from this mystery so easily.

The night was a long one for Steve and Stefan, and no less for Mara. The weight of the past clung to them like an unshakable shadow, stretching beyond the confines of that one night into the days that followed.

Sleep was elusive, tension thick in the air. Steve, in particular, found himself constantly watching Mara, not out of distrust, but out of fear, fear that she would act recklessly in her pursuit of the truth. She was determined, relentless even, and he knew all too well that determination could be dangerous.

What if she uncovered something she wasn’t meant to? What if they, whoever they were, decided to silence her just as they had silenced their parents? The thought sent a chill through him, a deep, gnawing dread that refused to let go. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. He wouldn’t.

When the invitations for the Shepherd gala were sent out, Mara got her hands on one and wasted no time in passing it to Ethan. The gesture was casual, but there was an underlying current of something else, Steve had been watching her closely, and perhaps the only way to see Ethan again.

Ethan took the invitation home, and the moment his mother, Bella Anderson, and his grandfather, Mr. Anderson Sr., saw it, their reactions were immediate and telling.

Mr. Anderson Sr. simply stared at the name, a flicker of understanding passing over his face, as if some long-buried puzzle piece had just clicked into place. He had suspected it for a while now, the striking resemblance Mara bore to her late mother had been impossible to ignore. And now, here was the confirmation he had silently expected.

Bella, on the other hand, did not take the revelation so lightly. The moment she saw the name "Shepherd," her expression darkened, her lips pressing into a thin line. The past came rushing back in a wave of old anger, bitter and unrelenting. Philip Shepherd. The man who had driven her only daughter to her untimely death. She had never forgiven him. And she never would.

Bella harbored no resentment toward her. She had only love for the girl, an unwavering affection that had remained steadfast despite the painful past that connected them. Still, that didn’t mean she could bring herself to attend the party. No, she couldn’t bear the thought of facing Philip again, of standing in the same room as him, pretending that decades of pain didn’t exist.

She set the invitation down with finality. "I’m not going." Her voice was firm, her decision absolute.

Ethan hesitated. "Mom... it’s not about him."

She shook her head. "Maybe not for you. But for me? It always will be."