My Great Escape Led Me to You novel Chapter 170

Emily Blair had assumed Elizabeth Wilson would be interested in the book, but Elizabeth just glanced at the cover, wrinkled her nose, and declared, “This is so boring. It’s all numbers and letters—my head hurts just looking at it.”

For a split second, Emily’s expression froze in surprise before she managed a smile. “Really?”

Elizabeth leaned casually against the bookshelf, folding her arms. “If you want to read, go ahead. I’m done with it.”

Truthfully, Emily wasn’t surprised by Elizabeth’s reaction.

Elizabeth’s grandmother had fallen seriously ill. With no savings to pay for her care and grades too low to get into any decent college, it was no wonder people doubted Elizabeth’s future. Even Elizabeth herself seemed to have given up—why else would she talk about running a market stall for a living?

Emily suspected she’d already made up her mind to do just that.

Not wanting to push her, Emily slid the book back onto the shelf, then took Elizabeth’s hand and gently pulled her toward the door.

“Let’s head home,” she said softly. “We should check on your grandmother.”

Elizabeth’s mind was weighed down by too many worries—Emily knew it was impossible for her to focus on anything else right now.

She understood, but she couldn’t just stand by and watch Elizabeth drift through life, not after everything Elizabeth had done for her when she’d been at rock bottom.

Even though Emily tried to keep her distance from Andrew Lane and Isabella Austin, fate seemed to have other plans.

Lately, Emily had signed up for piano practice at a local studio. She came here whenever she had free time, spending her days at the piano, and the rest of her hours helping Elizabeth at their little food stall, frying up skewers to make ends meet.

It was close to one in the morning when Emily finally rose from the piano bench.

At this hour, the whole practice studio was deserted. All the other rooms were dark and locked up, leaving her alone in the silent, shadowy space.

She stretched, rubbing her aching shoulders. It was the weekend, and she’d been at the piano since early morning, practicing nonstop until her neck and shoulders throbbed with fatigue.

Carefully closing the piano lid, she gathered her things and headed out.

The studio was on the very top floor of an office building, with soundproofing so the music wouldn’t disturb the workers below.

Emily stepped out of the practice room and took the elevator down.

The elevator stopped at the eleventh floor. Without looking up, she kept her eyes glued to her phone, busy replying to a message from Emma George. She barely registered the doors sliding open in her peripheral vision.

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