A wave of chaos and noise erupted in the hallway.

Andrew Lane didn't even hesitate he pushed the door open with a force that surprised everyone, bolting after Emily Blair, not caring that he was still on the phone with Isabella Austin.

Emily heard footsteps pounding closer and closer behind her, her breath caught in her chest.

In the next instant, Andrew seized her wrist and swung her around to face him.

His face was grim, his eyes dark and unflinching as he locked his gaze onto hers, his voice rough with emotion. "Don't even think about running."

Even caught, Emily remained composed, almost unbothered.

Andrew was still holding his phone in his other hand, and Isabella's anxious voice crackled through the speakers.

"Andrew, what's going on? Is someone there with you?"

"Is that Emily Blair?!"

Isabella's voice rose with panic, so sharp and desperate even Emily could hear the urgency.

Andrew answered, his tone clipped. "Yes, it's her."

There was a pause on the other end, then Isabella spoke again, her voice suddenly frail.

"So it's Emily... Andrew, say hello to her for me, will you?"

Then, plaintively, "Andrew, can you please come back soon? I'm not feeling well."

A shadow flickered across Andrew's face. He lowered his voice. "What's wrong?" Isabella sniffled, sounding small and miserable. "The baby's kicking like crazy. I feel sick... I might throw up."

"Maybe you should hand the phone to Emily. Let me talk to her. She'll understand." Emily watched Andrew serenely, waiting to see what he'd do.

After a few seconds, Andrew let go of her wrist. He spoke quietly into the phone, "No need. I'll come back right away."

As he ended the call, Emily took a step back, keeping her distance, a faint, sardonic smile curving her lips.

Andrew slipped his phone into his pocket. “The house is in number three—”

Emily cut him off. "Don't bother. I don't need to know."

She stepped back again. "Andrew Lane, go be with your wife and child."

His eyes darkened. "Emily Blair, everything's ready in the house. You can move in today."

Emily let out a cold, mocking laugh. "And do what, exactly? Andrew Lane, I'm doing just fine on my own. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. I don't have to worry about someone drugging me, or rumors spreading behind my back. I have plenty of friends now. My life is full.”

She spoke with a steady calm. "Right now, I'm more content than I ever was in the Lane family's house."

"So," she said, "you don't have to worry about me."

"Ever since I left the Lane family, I've been doing really, really well."

When Emily walked away, she didn't even glance at Andrew's face.

But she could guess well enough—he wouldn't be looking happy.

By the time she returned to Elizabeth Wilson's apartment, it was already one in the morning.

Elizabeth was waiting up for her in the living room, and the moment Emily walked in, she rushed over, grabbing Emily's arms and scanning her up and down.

"You're okay, right? Andrew Lane didn't do anything, did he? You're really okay?"

Emily stifled a laugh and gently pried Elizabeth's hands away. "I'm fine. Don't worry.

Just wash up and get some sleep-we both have class tomorrow."

Elizabeth frowned. "I saw Andrew Lane take you away. If you'd been any later, I might've called the police."

Emily shook her head. "It's fine."

But the moment she thought back to what had happened with Andrew after leaving

the Lane estate, a tightness settled in her chest, as if she couldn't quite breathe.

That night, she and Elizabeth shared Elizabeth's small bedroom. The bed was old, creaking with even the slightest movement.

Emily hardly dared to shift at all.

Worn out from the day, both girls drifted toward sleep.

Just as Emily was about to doze off, her phone buzzed with a text.

At this hour, it had to be something important.

She fumbled for her phone, blinking blearily at the screen.

A message from Andrew Lane.

Checked the maid was the one who drugged you.

The words snapped her wide awake.

She shifted slightly, and the bed squeaked noisily; in her sleep, Elizabeth's breathing grew heavier.

Emily froze, barely daring to breathe, staring down at the message.

Sleep abandoned her completely, her mind sharpening, thoughts racing.

She kept reading Andrew's follow-up text.

Isabella is innocent.

At first, Emily's expression remained as calm and collected as ever.

She typed back: How are you dealing with the person who did it?

A reply came-this time, from Isabella.

This is Isabella. Andrew's in the shower. I'm answering for him.

I should have realized sooner if I had, you wouldn't have been drugged. I'm sorry, it's my fault too.

As for the maid, Andrew left it to me. She's been fired, and we've called the police. They've already taken her away.

Emily felt her whole body go cold.

She knew, without a doubt, that the person who'd drugged her was Isabella-one hundred percent.

She also knew Isabella would pin it on someone else.

And Andrew would go along with it, letting Isabella shift the blame.

Emily understood, too, there was nothing she could do to change any of it now.

Even knowing all this, even remembering how things had played out in her past life, she still felt suffocated, as though the air had been sucked from the room.

She took a shaky breath, both hands trembling as she held her phone.

For a long time, she just stared at the screen, until finally, she snapped the phone shut.

"Emily Blair, what's wrong? Aren't you sleeping? It's so late."

After a moment, Emily answered quietly, her voice rough. "Yeah. I'll sleep soon."