"You have your reasons, so I won't hold it against you," Amy said, her voice steady, her expression as unreadable as still water. "Mr. Whitmore, I have other matters to attend to, so I'll take my leave."

She used to call him Dominic, but now it was back to the stiff formality of Mr. Whitmore.

"Amy—"

Dominic started to speak, but she didn’t give him the chance.

She took Samantha’s arm and walked away without a backward glance.

Samantha glanced between Amy and Dominic, who was now just a distant figure behind them.

"Celeste, did he come all this way just to see you?" Samantha asked, curiosity lacing her tone.

"Since when did you and Dominic get so close?"

Amy exhaled. "After I found out you'd been taken by Alexander, I went to the hospital to look for him. That’s where I ran into Dominic. When he heard why I was there, he offered to help track you down."

She paused, her eyes sharpening like frost on glass. "Turns out, he was waiting there for me on purpose."

Samantha frowned. "Waiting for you?"

Amy explained everything, ending with, "It had to be Alexander’s doing."

Samantha considered it, then shook her head. "Celeste, I think you might be misreading Dominic."

"Misreading?"

"Think about it. Even if you found Alexander, without proof, what could you do? Why would he bother having Dominic wait for you? And maybe Dominic genuinely couldn’t find me."

Samantha met Amy’s gaze earnestly. "Or maybe he did find me but couldn’t get me out yet, so he didn’t tell you. Why else would Alexander suddenly back off and let me go after apologizing to Victoria?"

"My guess? Dominic said something to him. That’s why Alexander didn’t push things further."

"Celeste, you should talk to him. If he really helped, it’s not fair to keep assuming the worst."

Amy hesitated. Samantha had a point. Just because Dominic hadn’t been entirely honest didn’t mean he wasn’t on her side. She’d let Alexander’s shadow taint her judgment.

"You’re right. I’ll talk to him when I get the chance."

Samantha was about to suggest they check out her new apartment when Amy’s phone rang.

"Hello, is this Mrs. Blackwood? Your son Liam had an altercation with some other children. Could you come to the academy?"

Amy blinked, momentarily thrown by the title. Since Liam’s birth, her identity had been swallowed by Liam’s Mom or Mrs. Blackwood.

"I’m sorry," Amy replied coolly. "You have the wrong number."

The teacher hesitated. "Wrong number? Aren’t you Liam’s mother?"

"No. I’m just the Blackwood family’s nanny."

She hung up before the teacher could respond.

The phone rang again almost instantly.

"Hello, are you Oliver Kingsley’s guardian? Oliver’s been in an incident—could you come immediately?"

Amy’s pulse spiked. "What happened to Oliver?"

"He got into a fight and was injured. Please, come as soon as possible."

Amy’s face tightened. "I’m on my way."

After a quick explanation to Samantha, she rushed off to the academy.

...

The academy was a considerable distance away, so it took Amy nearly forty minutes to arrive.