My Great Escape Led Me to You (Emily Blair) novel Chapter 829

Cynthia Rivera chased after him, calling out, “You’re not leaving! Explain yourself!”

A man in a sharp suit stepped out of a nearby car, striding over to block her path.

“Who the hell are you? Let go of me! Do you hear me? Let me go!” Cynthia protested, struggling against him.

The man didn’t budge, standing firmly between Cynthia and Albert Rivera.

Helpless, Cynthia could only watch as Albert climbed into the car.

“You can’t leave! Do you hear me? You’re not allowed to leave!” she shouted after him, her voice cracking.

The commotion was loud enough to draw stares from passersby. People slowed down, glancing over at the scene.

The man, Albert’s assistant, frowned and, after pushing Cynthia aside, got into the car himself.

Cynthia was left standing alone, her eyes red as she watched the car pull away, exhaust fumes swirling in the air.

When the taillights finally disappeared from view, Cynthia hung her head and clenched her fists, muttering through trembling lips, “They’re all so cruel to me. Everyone’s just so cruel.”

Even Tristan Davis is cruel to me now…

Thinking of Tristan, she remembered being blocked by him—her mind jumped to her phone.

She reached into her pocket only to find it empty.

Looking around frantically, she spotted her phone on the ground where it must have fallen during the scuffle. Even from a distance, she could see the cracks snaking across the screen.

Heart pounding, she hurried over to pick it up.

It wasn’t the phone itself she cared about; it was the possibility that, if it was broken, she wouldn’t be able to see any messages from Tristan Davis.

Thankfully, though the screen was damaged, the phone still worked.

With shaky hands, she opened her chat with Tristan. Her hope dissolved instantly—still no new messages.

She tried to call him, but, as expected, the call wouldn’t go through. She’d been blocked.

Crushed, Cynthia slumped down onto the bench where she’d been sitting earlier. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the handkerchief that man had left behind on the ground.

Annoyed, she snatched it up and flung it as far as she could.

But as she glared at the handkerchief lying on the pavement, she hesitated. She still hadn’t figured out what kind of relationship Emily Blair had with that man—she couldn’t just throw away the evidence yet.

Reluctantly, she went over and picked it up again.

She knew quality when she saw it; one glance confirmed it was an expensive designer piece.

That man had driven off in a Bentley, another sign of serious wealth.

Cynthia tucked the handkerchief into her bag, her mind racing. If Emily Blair really had some shady connection with that man, she had to tell Tristan Davis. She couldn’t let him be fooled by Emily.

Her phone never buzzed with a message from Tristan, but instead, it rang over and over—calls from her parents, asking where she was, why she hadn’t come home, and begging her to return as soon as possible.

Hearing the anxiety in their voices, Cynthia’s lips quivered. “Mom, Dad, can you come pick me up? Please?”

Her parents’ voices softened, full of worry and love. “Don’t cry, sweetheart; we’re coming to get you right now.”

“I only said I’d get to know him a bit more, see what he’s like. I never said I’d marry him! Where did you get that idea?”

Behind her, Elizabeth’s eyes brightened with relief.

Emma’s lips moved, searching for a defense. “Isn’t that pretty much the same thing?”

Emily sighed, exasperated. “Not even close.”

After a moment, she decided she needed to be clear. “Getting to know him means just that—I’m seeing if he’s right for me. If he’s not, I’ll tell him goodbye. I’m not marrying him.”

Emma nodded. “Alright, I get it.”

Emily added, “And please, don’t introduce me to anyone else. If Mr. Rivera finds out I’m meeting other guys, it’ll be a mess.”

Emma, now reassured, smiled and agreed. “Okay, fine. The two of you should spend more time together and see if things work out. If they do, settle things soon.”

Emily glanced away and nodded obediently.

Emma asked a few more questions about Albert Rivera, and Emily answered them honestly.

Emma seemed satisfied, nodding repeatedly.

At last, Emma went off to bed, and Emily finally let herself relax, exhaling slowly.

As soon as Emma’s door closed, Elizabeth poked Emily in the shoulder. “Do you actually like Albert Rivera?”

“No,” Emily replied, “it’s just a way to keep everyone off my back for now.”