My Great Escape Led Me to You (Emily Blair) novel Chapter 533

Emily Blair nearly laughed out loud.

Good to her?

Andrew Lane was good to her?

In what possible way?

Was he good because, even though he could have exposed Isabella Austin as the one who drugged her, he still chose to cover for Isabella?

Or was it good that, despite knowing the truth, he sided with Isabella as Emily’s reputation was dragged through the mud and she was battered by vicious comments online?

Or maybe it was good that, in her previous life, he’d thrown her out of the Lane Estate when she was eight months pregnant, then made sure no business or company in the city would hire her—forcing her to give birth to her daughter alone, cold and starving?

Or was it good that when her daughter’s life was hanging by a thread, Andrew chose instead to rush to Dennis Lane’s side, all because Dennis had scraped his knee?

If that’s what passes for kindness, then there isn’t a single villain left in this world.

Emily gave a quiet, mirthless chuckle, eyes glinting as she looked at Amelia Lane. “Tristan Davis never mentioned any names. Look at you—feeling guilty, are we?”

Amelia bristled. “You—!”

Emily stepped out from the crook of Tristan’s arm, her voice calm and measured. “Amelia, the man beside me isn’t exactly known for his patience. If you push him too far, I won’t be able to stop him.”

Tristan Davis exuded a cool, untouchable charisma, dressed in impeccably tailored designer clothes. Anyone with half a brain could see he came from privilege.

Amelia, who’d grown up surrounded by trust fund kids and socialites, recognized the signs instantly. Her tone grew cautious. “Who is he?”

Emily nudged Tristan in the side with her elbow. “Hear that? She’s asking for an introduction.”

Tristan’s lips curled into a sly, cocky smile, his gaze imperious as he drawled, “Not everyone gets to know my name.”

Emily shrugged, feigning regret. “You see? Nothing I can do—he’s just like that. Totally out of my control.”

Andrew Lane stepped out, carrying Dennis in his arms, with Isabella trailing close behind, gently reminding Andrew to take it slow.

Emily stopped on the steps, looking up at them.

At first, she only glanced over the trio, but then her gaze caught on Dennis’s knee, where a stark white bandage marked the spot where ointment had been applied.

Dennis was just a child, his skin pale and soft, and the treated scrape stood out, raw and obvious.

Emily’s pupils contracted. It was as if a sharp needle had plunged straight through her heart, twisting up everything soft inside her—every breath became agony.

Her hands, hanging at her sides, balled into fists.

The scene was eerily familiar. On the day her daughter was pronounced dead, she’d witnessed something all too similar.

A car crash. Chaos. The harsh clang of the ambulance doors. Blood. Her daughter’s breath, faint and fading…