My Great Escape Led Me to You (Emily Blair) novel Chapter 1181

Kevin Lane narrowed his eyes. “Are you asking for trouble too?”

Amelia Lane swallowed, her mind spinning. She caught sight of Dennis’s right hand, the only one that hadn’t been hit yet, and suddenly had an idea. “Grandpa, he has preschool on Monday. If you hurt his right hand, how’s he supposed to hold a pencil and learn?”

Dennis kept his chin lifted, defiant and stubborn as ever.

Kevin frowned, hesitating for the first time.

Amelia saw her chance and jumped in. “Grandpa, Dennis is just a kid. He needs to focus on learning. If you injure his right hand, he won’t be able to write or do his homework. Didn’t you say you wanted him to get good grades?”

Kevin’s grip on the ruler loosened, his expression softening with doubt.

Relief washed over Amelia, though she couldn’t help but curse the pressure of all this academic competition.

She shot the butler and maid a look, telling them to let Dennis go.

Kevin scowled deeper. “I didn’t say you could let him go.”

Amelia’s heart skipped a beat, but she hurried to keep things moving. “Grandpa, why don’t we send him upstairs to work on his assignments? His teacher gave him a bunch of worksheets a few days ago. He can’t come down for dinner until he finishes them. What do you think?”

Dennis might still be in preschool, but Kevin already had private tutors teaching him elementary school subjects. He was way ahead of other kids his age.

Kevin kept a stony face and fell silent.

Amelia knew that meant he was agreeing. She quickly grabbed the ruler and handed it to the butler, who led Dennis upstairs.

“Put some ointment on his left hand,” she told the butler. “And get out all his worksheets. He can’t leave his room until he’s done.”

The butler nodded, scooping up a tired, limp Dennis and carrying him upstairs.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Grandpa, can we talk about Dennis again?”

At eight that night, Tristan Davis’s office was still lit up like it was midday. Down below, traffic crawled by, nothing but headlights and horns. Executives and employees kept coming in and out, dropping files, asking questions, barely giving Tristan a moment to himself.

Ever since that video call with Emily Blair, Tristan felt a little steadier, though he couldn’t stop thinking about what Andrew Lane had said about the ring.

He’d messaged Emily a few minutes ago, but she hadn’t replied. He wasn’t worried. There was still work to finish. Once he got the company sorted out, maybe he could use the bruises from his run-in with Andrew to get a little sympathy from Emily.

Someone knocked at the door. Tristan looked up. “Come in.”

His new secretary, Daniel Perez, stepped inside.

“Mr. Davis, Ms. Blair is here to see you.”