My Great Escape Led Me to You (Emily Blair) novel Chapter 282

Isabella Austin clenched her palm discreetly, keeping her expression calm and serene, lips curved in a faint, collected smile.

Moments like this called for composure. The only way to win was to stay steady—and not let Emily Blair get her way.

Her gaze remained fixed on the stage, but suddenly, her attention snagged on something in one corner. She paused; a flicker of unease flashed in her eyes before she lowered her head.

“What’s wrong?”

Andrew Lane had leaned in close, his low, gentle voice brushing her ear. The sound sent a shiver through her.

She looked up at him slowly, returning his concern with a soft smile. “It’s nothing. You don’t need to worry.”

In the dimly lit auditorium, Andrew’s dark eyes looked even deeper, impossibly handsome. Isabella felt her cheeks flush, her heart beating faster. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

Andrew murmured, “Emily Blair’s piano piece—I remember it’s a bit... contentious for you, isn’t it?”

Isabella froze for a moment.

If she remembered correctly, Andrew had only ever heard Emily play this particular piece once, at the school’s anniversary concert. The two piano pieces were remarkably similar—so much so that anyone without a trained ear would never notice the difference. Yet Andrew remembered.

Almost as if he’d read her mind, Andrew leaned in closer and said quietly, “Everything about you—I remember it all.”

Isabella was momentarily stunned, her heart racing. She couldn’t help but reach out, wrapping her hand around his arm. Her voice was gentle, full of warmth: “It’s alright. I can handle this.”

He nodded, reassuring. “Alright. But if you can’t, you know you can come to me. I’m right here.”

Her heart softened even more; she gazed at him, a swell of affection in her eyes.

“Yes, I know,” she whispered.

Onstage, the piano piece was approaching its end. Isabella turned her head, watching the performer with a calm, almost indifferent look. With Andrew beside her, she felt there was nothing in the world to fear.

Arianna George, one of the judges, took the mic. “Emily Blair, let’s keep things relevant to the competition.”

Emily’s voice was calm, unflinching. “Ms. George, judges, everyone—before you ask anything, I’d like you to watch this video.”

Her clear, ringing voice carried through the sound system, echoing across the auditorium. It was a lovely voice, but to Isabella, it sounded chilling and strange.

Puzzled, the crowd turned their attention to the big screen.

The video began with grainy footage, the camera struggling to focus, background noise from someone shifting the equipment. Through the blur, you could just make out an open window and a woman in an evening gown sitting by a piano.

The image shook for a moment, never quite settling into focus, the woman’s face obscured.

Even though it was blurry, everyone could tell—the video was several years old, the quality nowhere near today’s standards.