Emma George’s hand hovered in midair, her face drained of color, as if her mind couldn’t quite process what had just happened.
Emily Blair set her phone down with a calm, measured voice. “This is why I only let you make the call. Did you honestly think Isabella Austin’s parents would be so easy to talk to?”
Panic and confusion flickered across Emma’s face. “Did I say something too blunt? Is that why they got upset?”
“No,” Emily replied evenly. “Even if you’d chosen your words more carefully, their attitude toward you wouldn’t have changed.”
Emma tightened her grip on her hand, searching for reassurance. “Maybe… maybe it’s because I suddenly told them the daughter they’d raised all these years isn’t really theirs. Maybe they just can’t accept that.”
That possibility was real enough. But Emily was certain that wasn’t the real reason for the Austins’ hostility.
In her mind, the ruined, irreparable relationship between herself and Isabella Austin was the real wedge—the thing that made Isabella’s parents so cold.
Emily was blunt. “It wouldn’t matter if you waited a few days to tell them. Their reaction would be exactly the same.”
Emma’s mouth opened, but she just stared, mute.
After a while, she murmured softly, “Maybe I should wait a few days and try again. If they’ve had some time to prepare, maybe they’ll take it better.”
Emily leaned back into the sofa, gazing at the blank television screen. “Isabella Austin is dead.”
Emma’s head snapped toward her. “What? What are you talking about?”
Emily repeated, “I said Isabella Austin is dead. She passed away a few months ago. The Austins and the Lanes kept it quiet—hardly anyone on the outside knows.”
Emma stared at her, stunned into silence, her expression blank as her breathing grew shallow and quick. “What… what did you say? Isabella Austin is… already gone?”
Emily turned to meet her gaze, steady and unflinching. “Yes. She’s gone.”

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