Emily Blair snapped back to her senses. “I already told you—I’m not going.”
Emma George shot her a furious glare. “Why are you being so stubborn? Do you realize what a chance this is?”-
Emily clenched her fists, refusing to back down. “A chance for what, exactly?”
Emma’s voice grew sharper. “A chance to get Andrew Lane’s attention, of course. Isn’t that what you want?”
Maybe it was something left over from her past life, but just hearing Andrew Lane’s name sent a jolt through Emily’s chest.
Her eyes prickled with tears. “I absolutely do not—”
Knock, knock, knock—
The sudden rapping at the door cut her off mid-sentence.
Emily didn’t have time to hide the hurt in her eyes before she looked up and met Andrew Lane’s cold, impassive stare from the hallway.
The moment their eyes met, she was struck by a vivid memory—this was exactly how he used to look at her: as if she were something worthless, as if she barely existed at all.
For a split second, her mind tumbled back to that suffocating, miserable previous life.
She took a few steps back, tearing her gaze away, but even without looking, she could feel Andrew Lane’s piercing presence fixed on her.
He must have overheard her conversation with Emma.
Andrew always despised people who schemed, and Emma’s intentions couldn’t be more obvious.
There was no way he’d just pretend not to hear.
Emma froze, her face a mess of panic. “Mr. Lane, I didn’t mean—”
“That’s enough. I’m not interested in any of this disgusting drama,” Andrew said, his voice laced with contempt, eyes narrowed in distaste as he turned away.
Clearly wanting nothing more to do with them, he tossed a final sentence over his shoulder. “Grandfather says dinner’s ready.”
Once Andrew left, the room fell into a heavy silence.
Emily steadied herself, voice barely above a whisper. “Mom, is this really what you want?”

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