My Great Escape Led Me to You (Emily Blair) novel Chapter 576

“It’s already been a whole damn Tristan—whatever was going to happen has probably already happened. There’s no point rushing up now.”

“Shh, shut up. How can you say something like that?”

“Did anyone call Mr. Cox?”

“I did. I told him about Ms. Blair, but he sounded completely wasted. Didn’t listen to a word I said…”

“That’s bad. We need to get up there—if something goes wrong, we’ll never be able to clean up the mess.”

A cluster of staff, accompanied by waiters, surged out of the conference hall and hurried up the stairwell beside the elevators.

At the front of the group, Andrew Lane reached out and grabbed the leader by the arm.

The man jumped, ready to curse him out, but when he caught sight of Andrew’s face, the words died in his throat. “M-Mr. Lane. Is there something you need?”

Andrew got straight to the point. “What happened to Emily Blair?”

The man—Eugene Brian, the conference organizer—looked distinctly uncomfortable.

This sort of thing was strictly between Ms. Blair and Mr. Cox. The less people knew, the better; this needed to be kept under wraps at all costs. There was no way he could tell anyone else.

Forcing a nervous smile, Eugene stammered, “Ms. Blair? Oh, it’s nothing to do with Ms. Blair, Mr. Lane. Just a leak on the second floor—a guest complained, that’s all. We’re on our way to deal with it now. It’ll be sorted out soon, nothing for you to worry about.”

Andrew’s gaze narrowed, his tone dropping cold. “You really think I’m that gullible? Try telling me the truth.”

The words were light, but the pressure behind them hit Eugene like a sledgehammer.

His face tightened in distress. On one side, he needed to handle the chaos that might erupt upstairs; on the other, he had to placate an unexpectedly confrontational Mr. Lane. It felt like he was being roasted over an open fire.

In the dim private suite upstairs, Donna Thomas huddled in a corner, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

She was a mess—her hair tangled, her clothes all but shredded, barely clinging to her body. Even her tight pants had been ripped into ragged strands, big holes torn open to expose swathes of pale, delicate skin.

Red, swollen marks covered her cheeks—bruises from being struck. Faint, suggestive mottling marked the skin that wasn’t hidden.

Her eyes were a mix of fury and numbness, lips trembling as tears streamed silently down her face.

No one needed to guess what had happened here.

Donna lifted her head, glaring at the man sprawled on the bed, cigarette burning between his fingers.

Her voice was icy, shaking with rage. “Ryan Cox. I heard—Ms. Blair’s already on her way up. If you’re not suicidal, you’d better let me go.”