“It's Andrew Lane,” Emily said flatly, setting her fork down. “You brought the housekeeper over here without asking me. That has nothing to do with me."

Andrew walked closer, his dark eyes flicking briefly to her foot, now wrapped in a cast. His voice was low and steady. "If you're not happy, we'll get a new one. We'll keep looking until you're satisfied."

"I already told you I don't need anyone," she replied.

He barely seemed to hear her. "There'll be another housekeeper here tomorrow."

Emily frowned, her patience thinning. "Andrew, do you even realize what you're doing?"

He picked up the medical file from her bedside table and flipped through it carelessly. "What did the doctor say?"

Her gaze was cold. "The doctor said I'd recover a lot faster if I didn't have certain people hovering around me all day."

The truth was, the doctor had said her injury wasn't serious. As long as she rested, kept off her feet, attended her follow-ups, and changed her bandages regularly, she'd be fine.

Andrew's lips twitched in what might have been a faint laugh before he set the file back on the table.

Just then, someone knocked at the door.

Andrew sounded more like the master of the house than a guest. "Come in."

"Mr. Lane." It was his assistant, arms full with a backpack so stuffed it looked like it might burst. Emily recognized it at once-it was hers, no doubt filled with study materials.

"Mr. Lane, I've brought Ms. Blair's revision notes. And her mother just arrived as well."

Andrew nodded.

The assistant set the backpack down gently at the foot of Emily's bed and left the

room.

Emily stared at the door. "My mom's here?"

Before Andrew could answer, a flurry of footsteps sounded in the hallway and Emma George swept into the room.

"Mom! What are you doing here?" Emily called out.

Emma's eyes immediately fell on Emily's elevated, cast-wrapped foot. She rushed over, worry etched across her face. "If Mr. Lane's assistant hadn't come by for your things, I'd still have no idea you'd broken your foot! You're all grown up now, is that it? You don't bother telling your mother about these things anymore?"

She hovered anxiously. “How did you even manage to break your foot at a competition? Is it serious? Does it hurt? What did the doctor say?"

Emily squeezed her mother's hand, urging her to sit down at the bedside. “Mom, it's nothing like that. I just hadn't gotten a chance to tell you yet. It's not serious. The doctor said I'll be fine as long as I rest."

Emma shot her a stern look. "The college entrance exams are just three months away. You never let me have a moment's peace. Now be honest-how did it really happen?"

Emily glanced at Andrew, then carefully edited her answer for her mother's benefit. "There was a metal frame onstage that suddenly collapsed. I wasn't paying attention and it hit my foot, that's all.”

Emma let out a dramatic sigh, shaking her head. "A big competition like that and they can't even make sure the equipment's safe? What a shoddy operation. And what about the organizers? Are they covering the medical bills? Compensation?”

"Don't worry," Emily assured her. “The organizers already told me they'd handle everything. I won't be missing out on anything I need."

Emma nodded. “Alright then. Did the doctor say when you can go home? The exams are coming up, and you can't afford to fall behind. You're top of your class— don't let something like this set you back."