Chapter 83
She instinctively lifted her face, catching her own reflection in the rearview mirror.
Evan Foster hadn’t held back with those two slaps her cheeks were still marked red, the bruises refusing to fade even by the time she left for school that morning.
It was only thanks to Emma George’s concealer and foundation that she’d been able to hide the angry welts and keep anyone from noticing.
Emily Blair lounged lazily in the car seat, her tone cool and detached. “No need.” But Andrew Lane’s reply was even sharper. “You’re going.”
Emily took several deep breaths, knowing there was no use arguing with Andrew Lane. She pulled out her phone and scrolled absently, only to land on the latest news articles, all gushing over Isabella Austin-who, in truth, was Vivian Martin.
They called her a prodigy, a brilliant young woman who, despite being unknown for years, had suddenly skyrocketed to fame.
Emily squeezed her eyes shut, her thoughts swirling, her head throbbing.
Even after two days, Isabella Austin was still pushing her narrative online, shamelessly feasting on Vivian Martin’s hard-won reputation.
Isabella’s nerve was even greater than Emily had imagined.
She clenched her fists.
But even if Andrew Lane knew the truth, he’d still side with Isabella Austin—just as he always had.
Emily had learned that lesson long ago.
Right now, she had neither the strength nor the means to stand up to Andrew Lane and Isabella Austin.
Out of sight, out of mind.
Emily turned off her phone and let her eyes fall shut, trying to will her thoughts away.
But Isabella Austin refused to let her be.
“Emily, I’m so sorry this is all my fault.”
Emily cracked her eyelids, eyeing her through the rearview mirror.
Isabella wore an apologetic smile. “It’s all because of me. Andrew was supposed to take you to the doctor yesterday, but I begged him to come watch a movie with me instead, and he indulged me… So now he’s taking you today.”
Her gaze was bashful and just a bit flirtatious as she glanced at Andrew.
Emily shot Andrew a look. His expression was cold, tacitly confirming Isabella’s story.
Bitterness twisted in Emily’s chest. She couldn’t help but say, “Well, then, I wish you two a lifetime of happiness—and a houseful of kids.”
She added, with genuine suggestion, “Why not let me out here? Give you both some privacy.”
Isabella’s eyes lit up at the idea.
But Andrew’s face darkened instantly, his voice harsh. “Don’t even think about it.”
Isabella’s smile froze, then she quickly tried to smooth things over. “Emily, don’t be upset with Andrew. Your health is nothing to take lightly-you really should get checked out.”
Emily looked away, pretending not to see or hear them.
Andrew closed his eyes as well.
Only Isabella was left, forcing a polite, gentle smile, her hands twisting the fabric of her skirt until it nearly tore.
She was anxious.
Everyone said Andrew Lane only cared about her, that he loved her and despised Emily Blair.
She’d believed it once.
But now, seeing it for herself, she realized things were far more complicated.
Andrew Lane didn’t act like a man who didn’t care about Emily Blair.
If anything, it was the opposite-he absolutely did.
She’d only just learned from Andrew’s assistant that it was Andrew who’d pulled strings to drive Evan Foster away.
But there was one thing she still didn’t know, and it was the thing she cared about most:
How much did Emily Blair really mean to Andrew Lane?