My Great Escape Led Me to You (Emily Blair) novel Chapter 286

The massive screen behind them kept playing, the video blending Vivian Martin’s piano piece seamlessly with Emily Blair’s performance—their music indistinguishable, flowing together as if they’d sprung from the same soul.

A gasp rippled through the audience.

Isabella Austin had just admitted to plagiarism herself.

But Isabella Austin wasn’t Vivian Martin. Vivian Martin was real, a separate person.

The revelations came fast and heavy, leaving the judges and the crowd in stunned silence. No one dared to speak.

“You came prepared,” Emily Blair heard her own voice, cool and measured, tight with a fury she rarely let show. “You investigated her, didn’t you? That’s why you knew so much about her.”

A single, gleaming tear slipped down Isabella Austin’s cheek. Her smile was wistful, tinged with relief. She wiped her eyes and looked up, lips curving gently. “Emily, I know you misunderstand me right now, and I get it.”

“I just hope you can see where I’m coming from too. I honestly had no idea you cared so much about her, that you’d go so far to help her. If I’d known… maybe I wouldn’t have chosen this path.”

She gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. “Maybe I wouldn’t be standing here, exposed as a fraud, disgraced in front of everyone. But I suppose it worked, didn’t it? At least now, everyone knows Vivian Martin’s name. They’ve heard her final piece. That’s what she wanted most, isn’t it?”

“Emily, seeing how much you care about her—it actually makes me happy.”

Emily Blair’s eyes, sharp and unwavering, narrowed. She gave a soft, scornful laugh. “You put on quite a show, but your reasoning is weak at best.”

As the video ended, the hall fell utterly silent; you could hear a pin drop.

Arianna George frowned, her voice stern. “What are you two doing? This is still a competition, not the place for personal drama.”

Without hesitation, Isabella Austin took the microphone. “Ms. George, esteemed judges, everyone—please, give Emily and me a moment. We’ll explain everything.”

At first, there was only silence. Then, scattered applause began, growing into a thunderous ovation that filled the entire hall.

“Wait.”

A cool voice cut through the noise, freezing the faint smile on Isabella Austin’s lips.

She straightened and saw Emily Blair, calm and composed as ever, her expression unreadable.

“First,” Emily said, “you claim you were Vivian Martin’s friend. But you know better than anyone that she hated plagiarism. If you really were her friend, you’d never have done this.”

“Second, as you tell it, there were plenty of ways to help her gain recognition. Why resort to plagiarism? Ms. Austin, you are the daughter of the Austin family. With their influence, if you or your family had wanted to, you could have made any pianist famous. You didn’t need to disgrace yourself or her name by doing this.”