My Great Escape Led Me to You (Emily Blair) novel Chapter 725

Alex White’s words were vague. “We were just talking. None of us expected something like this to happen.”

Tristan Davis pressed him. “Talking about what?”

Alex was about to say, “It’s none of your concern,” but Tristan cut in, “Is it about Matthew Ross?”

Alex hesitated, then realized what Tristan meant. “Emily Blair told you?”

Running a hand over his face, Tristan’s mouth tightened. “You mentioned something was off about the truck driver. Have you considered that these two incidents might be connected?”

Alex’s expression turned stern. “We don’t have any solid evidence yet. Don’t go making wild accusations.”

He couldn’t bring himself to believe Isabella Austin was capable of murder.

Tristan stared at him for a long moment, but Alex’s face remained unreadable.

Realizing he wouldn’t get any useful information from Alex, Tristan turned and walked away.

Emily Blair hadn’t woken up yet, and he didn’t want to be gone too long.

Elizabeth Wilson spotted the same young man again—Tristan Davis, standing in a quiet corner of the hospital, talking to Alex.

But Elizabeth didn’t have the energy to worry about Tristan. A whole day had passed, and Emily was still in critical condition. Emma George had been in tears all day, inconsolable. Elizabeth had eventually sent her home to wait for news, worried that watching Emily like this would only make her own health worse.

When Tristan approached, Elizabeth asked, “Any updates from the police?”

His eyes were shadowed, voice rough. “They haven’t found anything suspicious.”

She frowned. “Maybe it really was just a coincidence.”

Tristan didn’t respond. Instead, he turned to look at Emily through the window into her hospital room.

Emily Blair had been asleep for a day and a night. Aside from the doctors and nurses, no one was allowed in to see her.

There was a mountain of work at Vertex International, and after Emily’s accident, most of it landed on Elizabeth’s shoulders. She couldn’t stay at the hospital for long.

She’d been without air too long. Her mind grew hazy, her strength slipping away, her body sinking deeper and deeper.

…

“Emily Blair!”

Andrew Lane woke with a start, heart pounding, chest heaving, sweat beading on his forehead. The terror of loss from his nightmare still gripped him, as if a giant hand were squeezing his heart.

He sucked in sharp breaths, staring at the shadowy ceiling, needing several minutes before he could calm himself.

It was just a dream.

He closed his eyes, willing his heart to slow.

But after a nightmare like that, sleep was impossible. He fumbled for the wall, switched on the light, and sat up. Opening a drawer, he took out a pack of cigarettes, pulled one out and placed it between his lips, lighting it with an unsteady hand.