My Great Escape Led Me to You (Emily Blair) novel Chapter 22

Emily Blair had no desire to argue with Andrew Lane about the drugging incident. No matter how many times they circled back to it, the outcome would always be the same.

Andrew Lane would always be Isabella Austin’s strongest shield.

Turning to stare out the car window, Emily said, “I don’t want to go to your place. Either let me out right here, or take me back to The Lane Estate.”

After a moment, Andrew let out a soft, ambiguous scoff. “You’ve gotten bold.”

Emily turned back to him, her face unreadable. “So, what’s your decision?”

His eyes grew cold as he stared at her, like a predator lurking in the shadows.

Slowly, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk lifted the corner of his mouth.

“You used to beg me in tears to let you stay at my place. And now you’re demanding to go back?” Andrew said, his tone mocking. “Emily Blair, things don’t go your way just because you want them to.”

“In my world, Emily, you don’t get to choose.”

Emily bit her lip, glaring at him.

In the end, he brought her back to his apartment.

Standing at the threshold, she was rigid with resistance, every line of her body screaming defiance.

She remembered vividly—this was the apartment Andrew had bought long ago as a wedding home, back when he and Isabella were still in love.

It was proof of their happiness.

In her previous life, she and Daisy had been trapped here, forbidden to leave, forced over and over again by Andrew to watch videos and look at pictures of him, Isabella, and their two sons out on family outings.

Forced to face reality.

Sometimes, Isabella would come stay as well.

Whenever Isabella was here, she and Daisy would be locked in a small, windowless room—no light, no distractions, nothing to do but listen to the laughter of Andrew, Isabella, and their sons echoing through the apartment.

She could still remember Daisy curled up in her arms, sobbing until her voice was raw.

Later, Andrew deemed this apartment unfit and bought a sprawling house as his new wedding home with Isabella.

Emily inhaled sharply. “I’ll order takeout.”

But Andrew strode off toward the kitchen. “I’ll make something.”

Emily’s head snapped up, her gaze complicated as she watched his retreating back.

In her past life, Andrew had never cooked for her.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t—he simply reserved it for Isabella.

She’d seen his cooking before, dishes so beautiful and aromatic they belonged in a restaurant.

She was about to find out why he was making dinner tonight.

Isabella’s gentle smile froze the moment she saw Emily. She nearly lost her composure. “Ms. Blair, what are you doing here?”

Emily stepped aside to let her in. “You should probably ask Andrew Lane.”