After a moment, Andrew Lane finally spoke. “But there's no proof that she did it.”

Emily Blair tilted her head back and looked up at him with a faint smile. "I know. Whenever something involves Mrs. Lane, it always goes unresolved-just like so many things five years ago."

That got a reaction out of him at last.

Lying in the hospital bed, Emily looked even more frail and slight beneath the oversized gown. The drugs still hadn't worn off, leaving her face pale and lips colorless, cracked with dryness. Her hair had been swept back, a few loose strands tucked behind one delicate ear, making her clear, dark eyes seem even brighter in the harsh white hospital light. It looked as though she might cry at any second.

Andrew suddenly couldn't meet her gaze.

But before he could look away, Emily spoke again. "Five years ago, you were like this. Five years have passed, and nothing's changed."

His frown deepened.

Emily tried for a breezy tone, as if it didn't matter. “Andrew, are you feeling sorry for me?"

He didn't answer.

She gave him a small, weary smile. "It's fine. I got used to it five years ago. After a while, you stop feeling anything."

Every word was a direct indictment—nailing Andrew and Isabella Austin's actions inescapably to the wall for all to see.

It made Isabella look even more guilty.

Now, with Emily hooked up to an IV, her voice soft and resigned, she seemed even more pitiable.

Isabella seethed as she listened to Emily's words, wishing she could march over and clamp a hand over her mouth. Five years ago, she'd made Emily swallow her share of bitter pills. Now the tables had turned, and she hated how raw and exposed it made her feel.

Isabella forced her voice to stay calm. "Emily, I know you're upset right now, and it's hard to be rational, but I really hope you'll believe me—I didn't drug you.”

Emily's reply was light, almost careless. "You're all here. Of course you can say whatever you want."

Andrew's voice was flat. "I told you-"

Emily cut him off. "No evidence."

She gave him a knowing smile. "I know what you're going to say. I also know you're not going to keep looking, right?"

He looked at her. "Five years, and you've changed a lot."

Emily let out a short, bitter laugh. "Doesn't matter. In the end, I'm just as powerless as before."

Andrew's brows knit together, and for a moment, there was something almost sympathetic in his expression. He turned away, voice low. "This ends here. The bar's owner is a friend of mine-I'll have him replace the whole staff. Consider that my way of making it right. As for the man involved, I've already sent someone to deal with him. He's at the police station now. I'll send you the final report."

Emily asked quietly, "Do I get a say in any of this?"

Andrew's eyes lingered on her. “The child's waiting back at the hotel. Isabella and I are heading back. Get some rest."

Emily closed her eyes. "Go. I've seen enough."

Andrew hesitated at the door, his voice softer than before. “This happened at my friend's bar. Think of it as me owing you a favor. If you ever need anything, come find me."

Emily turned her head away, saying nothing, letting silence be her answer.

She waited until she heard the door close behind them before finally opening her eyes.