My Great Escape Led Me to You (Emily Blair) novel Chapter 122

Alice Anderson’s features twisted with anger before she let out a harsh growl. “Emily Blair, just confess already! Stop fighting it!”

Emily pushed herself up from the chair, refusing to give Alice the satisfaction of a response. Without another word, she turned and walked out.

Outside, she approached the nearest officer. “You might want to check the bank accounts or assets of Alice Anderson’s family and friends. There’s a good chance you’ll find your answer there.”

Whoever convinced Alice to go this far must have offered a hefty sum—certainly not pocket change, but enough to make her betray her conscience.

The officer shook his head. “We’ve already checked. There’s nothing suspicious in any of her relatives’ accounts.”

Emily hesitated, briefly thrown off. With no evidence, the police had no grounds to detain her, so she was quickly released.

Andrew Lane was waiting outside, leaning against his Rolls-Royce. He pulled her gently into the car. “We need to stop by the Lane Estate.”

Emily immediately tried to push her way out, but Andrew locked the doors and pulled out onto the road before she could escape.

The thought of returning to the Lane Estate felt like walking into a lion’s den. She wanted nothing more than to stay away.

“What’s the point?” she demanded.

Andrew didn’t answer, his silence as heavy as the tension in the car. Soon, they pulled through the gates and onto the estate’s sweeping drive.

Stepping out, Emily followed Andrew inside—and was immediately struck by how much the place had changed.

The living room and every corner were filled with soft, pastel-colored plush toys—Isabella Austin’s, no doubt. In the kitchen, the maids whispered quietly to each other as they bustled about.

“Careful with that, it’s for Ms. Austin,” one said, carrying a steaming bowl of soup.

Where the living room had once had just a few area rugs, now almost every inch was covered in plush carpeting. Even the sharp edges of tables had been padded with foam protectors, as if the whole house were wrapped in cotton for Isabella’s sake.

Her smile was gentle, but her eyes shimmered with a challenge that was impossible for Emily to miss.

“It was my idea for Andrew to bring you back,” Isabella continued. “Honestly, he can be so thoughtless sometimes—did he forget to explain things properly again? I apologize on his behalf. And as it happens, the cook made some chicken soup today. Why don’t you join us for a bowl?”

Emily knew Isabella didn’t need to do this. Andrew’s heart and mind were already entirely wrapped up in Isabella and the child she carried; there was no place for Emily in that picture.

There was no need for Isabella to flaunt Andrew’s affection for her—Emily neither wanted nor cared to compete.

She was about to refuse when the housekeeper appeared behind her, setting down two bowls of chicken soup on the coffee table.

The housekeeper leaned toward Isabella, whispering just loud enough for Emily to catch. “Ms. Austin, you’re too kind. That woman’s so malicious—she doesn’t deserve your soup.”

Isabella’s smile grew even softer, feigning concern. “Sorry, Emily. The housekeeper means well, don’t mind her.”