My Great Escape Led Me to You (Emily Blair) novel Chapter 140

When Isabella Austin had Elizabeth Wilson’s grandmother—a frail old woman dying of uterine cancer—left out in the corridor, why didn’t Andrew Lane accuse her of being pushy then?

Andrew Lane was calm and sharp everywhere else, but whenever Isabella Austin was involved, he turned into an impulsive, love-struck schoolboy.

Was it first love that had clouded his judgment?

Emily Blair clenched her fists, a cold smile tugging at her lips. “I’m not nearly as skilled as she is. I could never bring myself to bully an elderly woman.”

Isabella Austin blanched, her complexion turning ashen.

She slumped against Andrew Lane, her slender arms draped limply around his waist. Her voice trembled, barely more than a whisper.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know any of this, Andrew… What should I do?”

Sophia Clark seemed to have finally had enough. She stepped forward and pointed accusingly at Emily. “Why are you taking it out on Isabella? She had no idea what was happening. If you’re angry, be angry at me. She’s innocent!”

Innocent?

If Emily Blair hadn’t caught the glint of challenge in Isabella Austin’s eyes, she might have actually believed she was blameless.

A single tear slid down Isabella’s cheek. Instantly, Andrew Lane’s expression darkened, his lips pressed into a thin line. He shot Emily a cold, disapproving look, clearly blaming her for Isabella’s distress.

Elizabeth Wilson stood up with a cynical laugh. “And here I thought you people were decent. I never expected you’d twist right and wrong, parading your innocence in front of me.”

Sophia Clark retorted with a sneer, “If you want to blame someone, blame your own family for not having money or connections. What does that have to do with me?”

Her words were like a match to dry kindling, igniting the simmering anger in the other patients and families crowded in the ward.

Suddenly, Sophia was surrounded by a sea of resentful faces. Her confidence faltered, and she cursed under her breath, “Bunch of ingrates.”

Andrew Lane gently pulled Isabella closer, his hand tightening on her shoulder as if to steady her, offering silent support.

“Let’s go,” he said quietly.

Sniffling, Isabella nodded. Just as they were about to leave, she spun around to face the room full of onlookers.

Emily Blair fumed silently. When exactly had she been the unreasonable one? And since when was Isabella so clueless?

She replayed the triumphant look Isabella had shot her before leaving, and she knew—Isabella had known exactly what she was doing. That was how she’d claimed Elizabeth Wilson’s grandmother’s bed in the first place.

This was Isabella’s true skill: with just a few carefully chosen words, she could cast herself as the innocent victim, winning pity and absolution, while everyone else ended up looking like the aggressor.

Emily said nothing, listening as the others in the ward began to murmur among themselves.

“Those two look kind of familiar. Aren’t they someone important?”

“Oh, I remember now! That’s Andrew Lane and the pianist, Isabella Austin!”

“Yeah, that’s right. They’re both pretty famous—studied abroad, came back, and they’re each other’s first loves. So romantic. They’re always doing charity work, too, and I heard they’ve donated a ton of money.”

“In that case, it must have been a misunderstanding. People like Andrew Lane and Isabella Austin would never steal a hospital bed from someone in need.”