Chapter 333

Andrew Lane could have been called a good teacher—he taught her so much. But he was also, in many ways, the very demon who wrecked her life.
Back when Isabella Austin was still away, Andrew Lane treated her like she was made of glass-he coddled her, sheltered her from the world. Even the staff, who resented her sudden rise to the Lane family’s adopted daughter, had no choice but to greet her respectfully when she passed.
Andrew was the perfect older brother, giving her the most precious things in the world-things she’d never received even from her own parents. She was bound to him by feelings so deep and persistent they seemed etched into her very bones.
Her attachment to Andrew went beyond infatuation. It was almost familial, a dependency that grew with every year she spent in the Lane household. In her heart, Andrew’s place was irreplaceable. To pull him out would have left her raw and bleeding.
In her previous life, she simply couldn’t help trusting Andrew Lane. She couldn’t let go of him—not when he was Andrew, the one and only Andrew, the one who always forgave her, always understood her. If Isabella Austin had never come back, she might have always believed she was just as unique to Andrew as he was to her.
No matter how many times Andrew hurt her, she clung to hope—a stubborn, desperate hope that he’d return to her, just as he always did. That he’d scold her in that deep voice, tell her to stand up straight, to hold her head high and live with pride.
But all her illusions shattered the day her daughter died.
Now, in this life, the kindness Andrew has shown her still outweighs the pain and humiliation he caused. If she didn’t remember her past, she would have made the same mistakes all over again—groveling, begging Andrew to come back to her.
When she finally moved out of the Lane Estate, she left behind everything Andrew had ever given her. She took only the battered old duffel bag she’d carried the day she arrived, packing it with the few things she’d actually bought for herself over the years.
She wanted a clean break. No loose threads, no lingering shadows of Andrew Lane in her life.
The clothes Andrew once bought for her, he bought for Isabella too. Everything Emily lacked, Isabella possessed. To Andrew, she had never been special. Isabella was always the exception, always the one who mattered most.
Emily Blair tried not to dwell on those years with Andrew, but she couldn’t deny the truth: her childish devotion to him had been inevitable. Looking back, though, she realized how foolish it was to ever believe she was special to him. The memory made her want to slap some sense into her former self.
She understood now-if, during those early days at the Lane Estate, any other man had treated her with the same tenderness Andrew did, she would have fallen for him just as easily. Andrew wasn’t unique; he simply arrived at the moment she needed someone most.
That was her darkest hour.
Emily reminded herself of this, letting out a long, shaky breath as if finally putting down a heavy burden.