At the end of the hospital corridor, Alex White didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Andrew, when exactly are you throwing the engagement party for Isabella? Are you planning to wait until her pregnancy is so obvious that no dress can hide it? Have you even thought about what this will do to her?”
Andrew Lane said nothing.
Alex’s tone sharpened. “You need to set a date soon. If the news gets out that Isabella’s pregnant before the wedding, it’ll look bad—especially with all the attention she gets online. She’s practically a public figure. You owe her that much.”
He paused, then eyed Andrew, suspicion flickering in his gaze. “Or is this about Emily? Can’t let her go, can you?”
Andrew’s eyes lifted; his features were sharp, his expression unreadable, his voice quiet and cold. “That’s none of your business.”
Alex opened his mouth, but Andrew cut him off. “My relationship with Isabella is my own affair. I don’t need to report every detail to you, do I?”
There was a trace of a smile in Andrew’s eyes, but it was icy.
Alex narrowed his eyes. “It better be that way. Don’t let Isabella down. If you do, I won’t let it slide.”
Andrew held his stare for a long moment before turning away and heading back into Isabella Austin’s hospital room.
Isabella had been staring at the door as if she could will it open, anxiety tight in her chest. When Andrew finally walked in, calm and unruffled, she let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.
“Andrew, what did Alex say to you?”
He sat on the edge of her bed, voice even. “Nothing much. Just work stuff.”
She didn’t buy it. “Work? You never go out into the hallway to talk about work. Not before.”
Andrew gave a low laugh. “You’re that sharp, huh?”
She eyed him. “Did Alex hit you?”
“No,” he said simply.
She watched him for a beat longer, then shrugged. “Fine. If you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t force you.”
With a soft chuckle, Isabella rested her head against Andrew’s shoulder.
“Let’s go home tonight, okay? The semifinals are tomorrow. I just wish the police would hurry up and come back.”
Andrew said, “They’ll be here soon. No need to worry.”
But Isabella was worried. She had no idea if the security footage had caught her in the act—dragging Emily into the mess. She’d been so careful, aware of the cameras, making it look as if she’d been pulled down rather than doing the pulling herself. Still, anxiety gnawed at her. What if the police noticed something off? Wouldn’t it be better to stop the investigation herself, before they uncovered the truth? That way, Emily would always carry the blame, and the real story would stay buried.


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