Andrew Lane pressed his lips together and said nothing.

Diana Harris frowned, her tone sharp. "Emily Blair likes you. Don't tell me you haven't noticed."

For reasons he couldn't quite name, Andrew suddenly recalled a moment from years ago, back when Emily Blair still lived with the Lane family.

He remembered Amelia Lane once stumbling upon a notebook in Emily's room, every page crammed with his name scrawled over and over.

He'd half-expected to catch Emily blushing in embarrassment, but instead, she tore the notebook to shreds with icy composure.

Even now, he couldn't explain why he remembered her words and the look in her eyes that night so clearly.

"I was wrong before. I liked the wrong person. I must have been blind, shameless to even think I could care for you."

"I get it now. I'll change."

“But from now on, I'll never let myself have those disgusting feelings again. I'll keep my distance—always. I'll never trouble you again."

Emily's eyes had been too calm not a trace of shame, just a desperate urge to sever any connection between them.

Maybe it was because they were both so young, but Andrew could still see the fear and wariness lurking beneath her cool stare, and something deeper-hatred, buried at the bottom of her gaze.

What was she afraid of?

What was she dreading?

And where did that hatred come from?

It wasn't for Isabella Austin or Amelia Lane, who had both been there that night. No, that look had been meant for him alone.

Even Andrew, who prided himself on seeing things clearly, was left puzzled.

He'd always treated Emily decently during her years in the Lane household-of that he was sure.

A flicker of confusion passed through his eyes. What could have made Emily Blair hate him so much?

And it wasn't just him. Emily had changed so completely that anyone could see it.

Andrew's gaze shifted, his voice low and even. "You're overthinking it. There's nothing between Emily and me."

Diana's eyes flashed with impatience. “Emily's feelings for you are obvious, Andrew. Are you really going to keep covering for her? You're about to marry Isabella—she's already given you a child. You need to take care of this, before Emily does something foolish."

A cold glint appeared in Diana's eyes.

If Andrew wouldn't handle this, then she would. And if she had to step in, Emily Blair would pay a much higher price.

Andrew pinched the bridge of his nose, fatigue clouding his features. His voice was hoarse. "I understand. Don't worry about it."

Diana studied her son, her expression unreadable.

The Lane family was sprawling and powerful, with too many relatives to count. Andrew's father, Kyle Lane, had several siblings, and every holiday, the Lane estate would fill to bursting with a horde of aunts, uncles, cousins—some related by blood, others only by marriage.

When Diana had first married in, she'd been shocked by just how many Lanes there

were.

A few years later, after Andrew was born, she brought her infant son back to the Lane estate for Christmas. The house was swarmed with children, most of them not much older or younger than Andrew.

That was when her wariness began.

The Lane family was wealthy, but the more branches it had, the thinner the inheritance would be spread.

Kevin Lane, the patriarch, had two sons from his first marriage. Later, he had another son and daughter with his second and third wives-Kyle Lane was the youngest.

Kevin favored his first wife and, by extension, their sons. Kyle was never the favorite, so he'd been exiled abroad.

Kyle's two older half-brothers never missed a chance to belittle him, and Diana's relationship with their wives was frosty at best.

Kyle couldn't compete-not in their father's eyes, not in ability, not in standing. Everything shifted the day Diana had Andrew.

From the moment Andrew was born, she started planning for his future. Claiming she was too busy with work, she had Andrew raised by his grandfather, Kevin Lane.

She knew exactly what she was doing. Kevin was long divorced from his third wife, living alone at the Lane estate. If Andrew grew up by his side, maybe just maybe— he'd win his grandfather's affection.