Andrew Lane lifted his eyelids, his dark, brooding gaze meeting Grandpa Kevin’s clouded eyes.
Grandpa Kevin’s expression hardened. “Andrew, she’s not family. You should put the Lanes first—always. Not some outsider.”
Andrew’s eyes narrowed.
With a sigh, Grandpa Kevin turned away, staring out the window. “If you really can’t let her go, you can always let her come back.”
Predictably, Andrew refused.
Everyone knew where things stood: Emily Blair and the Lane family were as distant as Emily and Isabella Austin. Andrew would always choose Isabella—and the Lanes—over anyone else.
Andrew Lane had always known exactly what he was doing, and what he was meant to do. That was why Grandpa Kevin trusted him.
Isabella Austin’s pedigree was leagues above Emily Blair’s; her connections and support were far more valuable to Andrew than anything Emily could provide. In every way—emotionally, financially—Isabella outshone Emily.
Grandpa Kevin waved his hand dismissively. “Go on. Don’t keep me from my reading.”
Andrew retreated from the study.
A moment later, a maid hurried in after him. “Mr. Lane, should we clear out Miss Blair’s things from her room?”
Grandpa Kevin considered for a second. “Yes. Move them out.”
“Don’t bother asking Andrew’s opinion.”
“Yes, sir. Understood.”
Just then, as Emma George came in with a mug of warm milk, Emily Blair’s phone buzzed. Andrew Lane was calling.
Emily took the milk from Emma, then pressed to answer the call.
Her voice was cool. “What do you want?”
Andrew’s tone was low. “Where are you?”


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