Andrew Lane studied the impeccably made-up face before him, his gaze deep and inscrutable, voice calm and distant. “You’ve grown taller.”
Emily Blair offered a faint, steady smile. “I was only eighteen when I first came here. A few years have passed—growing taller was inevitable.”
Something flickered across Andrew’s expression.
Emily noticed it instantly.
Was that the hint of a smile tugging at his lips?
She looked away, a heaviness settling in her chest.
“You’ve filled out too,” Andrew remarked. “You used to be so undernourished.”
Emily’s eyes darted up to his. His expression was as composed and unbothered as ever, as though he were merely reminiscing—just making casual conversation, nothing more.
She forced a smile and absently rotated her teacup between her fingers. “Life’s been better, so naturally I’ve been eating more.”
Andrew took a sip of tea, silent.
There was more behind her words than she let on.
Back when she lived with the Lane family, every step felt like walking on eggshells. She hardly dared take an extra bite, barely drank enough water. Even after leaving, trouble seemed to follow her, and peaceful meals were a rarity.
Life was tougher now than it had been in Riven, but at least she could eat in peace—and eat her fill.
Her tone was calm, but her words carried a subtle edge.
Awkward silence settled over the private room once again. Emily was never much of a talker around Andrew, and she hadn’t planned to say much now—yet his gaze never left her, so tangible it was almost a touch.
Left with no choice, she broke the silence. “Since you’re in town for business, Mr. Lane, perhaps you’ll have some time to look around. The city’s changed a lot over the years. If you like, I can have my assistant show you around. Or did Mrs. Lane and your child come along this time?”
“I’m not interested.”
Andrew’s reply was as curt as ever. The polite smile fixed on Emily’s face faltered for a split second.


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