Andrew Lane stayed silent, listening to the conversation with an inscrutable look in his eyes—deep, brooding, impossible to read.
Emily Blair met his gaze but said nothing.
Seeing that Andrew had no objections, Mr. Green finally let out a breath of relief. “Mr. Lane, this isn’t really the place to talk. Could we step aside for a moment?”
Isabella Austin noticed the shift in Andrew’s expression and felt her heart skip a beat. She quickly interjected in a gentle tone, “She’s just a high school student. Whatever compensation is needed, I’ll cover it. Please, don’t make things difficult for her.”
Mr. Green and the woman beside him both froze in surprise.
Mr. Green’s expression darkened slightly. “Mr. Lane, Ms. Austin, do you know this young lady?”
Just as the question hung in the air, Andrew Lane finally spoke. His voice was low, smooth, and commanding. “Emily Blair.”
He looked Emily over from head to toe.
Her hair was a mess, the hair tie barely clinging to the ends. A few strands had fallen across her face. The hospital gown she’d been wearing earlier was now rumpled and askew, the pants soaked through and splattered with dirty water. The floor around her was a muddy mess. A cracked kettle lay abandoned nearby, no one bothering to pick it up.
This morning, Emily Blair had still been like a prickly, stubborn hedgehog. Now, she looked more like a stray cat—lost, bedraggled, and too tired even to look for food.
Pitiful, really.
And Andrew Lane didn’t like that feeling one bit.
It was like having a puppy at home—no matter how much trouble it caused, it was his to scold, his to discipline, and he’d make sure it learned its lesson. But once they were outside, it didn’t matter what the puppy had done; he sure as hell didn’t want anyone else laying a finger on it.


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