Everything was playing out exactly as it had before.

The wound on Dennis Lane's knee was in precisely the same spot as it had been in her previous life.

Emily Blair felt as if she'd plunged into an icy lake-frozen, breathless, as memories collided with reality.

Somewhere nearby, Isabella Austin called her name, "Emily?"

Emily turned her head, stiff and slow, as if underwater. The pain of her nails digging into her palm brought her back, grounding her in the moment.

When she spoke, her voice was calm and measured, each word clear and steady— no trace of emotion.

“Mr. Lane, are you willing to sell the rights to Black and White Rabbit to Vertex International?"

She looked up to meet Andrew Lane's gaze.

"I need a clear answer, Mr. Lane."

Andrew Lane regarded her coolly, lips pressed in a thin line, eyes half-lidded and unreadable.

Nearly everyone in the living room had gathered at the foot of the stairs, watching the confrontation unfold-quietly thrilled by the spectacle.

Dennis, nestled in Andrew's arms, caught sight of Emily and let out a grumpy little huff, burying his face in his father's shoulder. He clung tight to Andrew's neck and, with a sleepy, childish whine, murmured, "Daddy, I'm tired. Can we go home and go to bed?"

Isabella glanced away, her expression hovering between embarrassment and thinly veiled satisfaction. She cleared her throat. "Andrew, Emily, maybe we can talk about this tomorrow? Dennis needs to sleep, and Andrew has to put him to bed. He probably doesn't have time right now..."

Emily didn't so much as blink. "It only takes a moment to answer, Mr. Lane—can't you spare even that?"

Her tone sharpened. "I just need one word."

Andrew's voice was low, almost curt. "Let's talk later-"

"Later?" Emily pressed. "When is that, Mr. Lane? Can you give me an exact time?"

He hadn't expected her to push back so suddenly; the muscles in his brow tightened.

"I've heard you don't actually plan to sell the rights," Emily said, meeting his gaze head-on. "If that's the case, then why did you invite me here? Was this just a game to you?"

They stood locked in a standoff at the base of the stairs. Emily refused to back down, her words razor-sharp.

With each pointed question, Isabella's regretful—and distinctly satisfied-smile grew.

Emily saw through it all-the hostility Isabella directed at her was impossible to miss.

She could also sense the deeper meaning behind Andrew's repeated refusal to discuss the Black and White Rabbit rights—he was hiding something, and she knew

it.

Emily wasn't stubborn for the sake of being stubborn, nor did she believe in forcing anyone's hand.

If Andrew had intended to sell from the beginning, she would never have come out to the Lane estate today.

Yes, the Black and White Rabbit rights were valuable for her new project. But if Andrew wouldn't sell, she had other options-she wasn't about to stake everything on just one shot.

But if he never meant to sell, and lured her here under false pretenses, that was another matter entirely a deliberate insult.

"So, Mr. Lane," she said, "are you really refusing to answer me?"

Just then, Amelia Lane strode past her and joined Andrew, bending down to ruffle Dennis's hair. “Come on, Andrew, just tell her already. That way she can stop barging in here all the time. Honestly, it's getting old."

Andrew's gaze snapped to Amelia, his voice suddenly colder. "Was it you who told her that?"

Amelia's heart lurched.

Since Emily had stopped coming around, things at the Lane house had been peaceful—and Andrew's attitude toward his sister had softened as well.

But it had been a long time since she'd heard him speak to her like that—so firm, so unyielding.

She hesitated, flustered. "I-Andrew, are we not supposed to talk about it?"

"So you really don't want to sell to me?" Emily pressed again.