My Great Escape Led Me to You novel Chapter 89

At twenty-four, she should have been in the prime of her life. Yet her face had long since lost its youthful softness, lined with wrinkles that made her look far older than her years.

Life had been hard at every turn. The only comfort she had left was the warm weight of her own daughter in her arms.

Daisy was sleeping soundly against her, her face delicate and peaceful, eyelids fluttering in a half-awake, cherubic way.

But when Emily Blair caught sight of them, her eyes widened in terror. She shouted, voice shaking, “Get out of the car! Hurry, get out!”

Neither “Emily Blair” nor “Daisy” stirred.

Desperation twisted her voice into a scream, each new cry scraping her throat raw.

“Get out! Please, just get out of the car!”

A truck barreled into view, horn blaring.

Crash.

The taxi carrying “Emily Blair” and Daisy was torn apart, metal screaming, windows shattering, glass raining down in glittering shards. Gasoline pooled beneath the wreck.

A familiar, agonized voice pierced the chaos, shrill and desperate: “Daisy!”

The accident was so cruelly timed, it was as if Daisy had taken Emily Blair’s fate onto herself.

Afterward, while Emily Blair escaped with only scrapes and bruises, Daisy was critically injured—her tiny body badly hurt, in desperate need of help.

When “Emily Blair” emerged from the wreckage clutching Daisy, the real Emily Blair, watching from above, felt as if lightning had struck her soul.

A memory flickered through her dazed mind: there had been an ambulance passing by.

She looked around frantically—and there it was, parked by the curb.

Emily Blair rushed toward it, her spirit weightless and frantic. As soon as the doors swung open, she shouted at the doctor and nurse inside:

“There’s a child over there! She’s hurt, please, you have to save her! Help her first, please!”

But of course, they couldn’t hear her. They went about their routine, wheeling a stretcher toward a gleaming Bentley with nothing more than a scratch on its paint.

When Andrew Lane emerged from the Bentley, clutching his son—who was sobbing over a scraped knee—Emily Blair nearly collapsed.

“No, please, I’m begging you, save my daughter first! She’s dying, she’s dying!”

She floated to Andrew Lane’s side, tears streaming down her face, and pointed to the shattered taxi.

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