My Great Escape Led Me to You (Emily Blair) novel Chapter 277

Even from the waiting room backstage, Emily Blair and the others could hear the sudden explosion of cheers from the audience the moment Isabella Austin stepped onto the stage. The roar cut right through the walls, clear and unmistakable, reaching the ears of every contestant.

Someone gaped in disbelief. “Are all those people out there Isabella Austin’s fans? That’s insane!”

“Of course,” another muttered. “She’s so popular she could quit competitions and go straight into showbiz if she wanted. She’s got, what, ten million followers online?”

For a moment, the atmosphere in the waiting room turned heavy and tense.

The cheers outside kept rising, wave after wave, and if you listened closely, you could even pick out Isabella’s name being chanted. It felt as if the louder the crowd got, the more certain her victory became.

Her fans, loyal as ever, even fell instantly silent the moment the judges asked for quiet, not making another sound as Isabella began to play.

During her performance, the room stayed hushed and respectful—no more outbursts, just focused anticipation.

Emily Blair bowed her head, a hint of mockery flickering across her lips.

A spectacle like this, she thought, was always best with more people, more noise—the bigger the scene, the better.

She settled in, forcing herself to listen carefully to Isabella’s piano piece.

The melody was beautiful, full of unexpected twists, and with Isabella’s solid technique, it was undeniably a masterful performance.

Champion material, no doubt.

What’s more, Isabella had chosen to play her own composition.

Emily couldn’t help a quiet, bitter laugh. There’s no way Isabella wrote something of this caliber herself. Whose work had she “borrowed” this time? Some ghostwriter? Or maybe she’d stolen it from some poor, unknown soul?

As Isabella finished, the room erupted once more in thunderous applause.

Emily looked up, peering across the room toward the stage.

She sat in the corner, where she could just see through the open door connecting the waiting room to the auditorium, catching a glimpse of the judges’ table and the excited crowd.

The audience’s faces were alight with joy, clapping so hard Emily half expected to see bruised palms, some people already on their feet, arms raised high, cheering Isabella’s name.

In the front row, right in the middle, sat Andrew Lane. He was usually all sharp edges and cool detachment, but tonight his expression had softened, his dark eyes fixed on the stage, lips curved in the faintest smile as he applauded Isabella.

After Isabella’s performance, a suffocating silence settled over the waiting room.

Nearly every contestant sat there, pale and defeated, staring down at the floor as if already seeing their own failure play out.

So when Emily’s applause broke the silence, everyone turned, startled, staring at her as if she’d lost her mind.

Emily ignored their looks and kept clapping.

One contestant finally snapped. “Emily, what the hell’s wrong with you? Can’t you be quiet?”

Others chimed in. “Yeah! Don’t you know you’re being annoying?”

Clearly, the pressure of the competition had turned into anger, and Emily was the perfect target.

She lowered her hands, meeting their glares with an even voice. “Why shouldn’t I applaud? That was a fantastic performance.”

The contestant rolled their eyes. “You’re nuts.”