Crack!

The sound of Margaret's slap echoed through the sterile hospital hallway, sending Amy's head jerking to the side. A vivid red mark blossomed across her pale cheek, stark against her skin. The entire waiting room froze—even the hum of the fluorescent lights seemed to pause in shock.

Amy hadn’t seen it coming. The force of the blow left her momentarily dazed.

"Amy!" Oliver gasped, stepping forward, his voice thick with concern.

Alexander moved instantly, blocking his mother. "Mom, stop!"

Charlotte rushed to intervene, her voice trembling. "Mom, please—this isn’t the way!"

Only Victoria lingered in the background, her lips curling into a smug smile as she watched the chaos unfold.

"A misunderstanding?" Margaret hissed, her voice trembling with fury. "She was supposed to be watching Liam! And now look where we are—my grandson, lying in a hospital bed because of her negligence!" She jabbed a finger at Amy. "If anything happens to him, I swear, you’ll pay for it."

Amy stood motionless, her hair disheveled from the frantic rush to the hospital. Strands of it fell across her face, shadowing her expression.

Oliver reached for her hand, his worry palpable. "Amy..." Her fingers were ice-cold.

"I'm fine," she murmured. Then, slowly, she lifted her head. Her eyes, devoid of warmth, locked onto Margaret’s. And then—she smiled.

The room tensed.

Even after being struck, Amy was smiling.

Margaret opened her mouth, ready to unleash another tirade—but before she could speak, Amy’s hand snapped up.

Slap! Slap!

Two sharp cracks split the air as she struck Alexander across the face.

The room went deathly silent.

Margaret’s face drained of color. "You—how dare you hit my son?!"

Amy met her gaze evenly. "Alexander isn’t just your son. He’s my husband. And Liam’s father." Her voice was calm, almost detached. "Those were on your behalf."

Margaret trembled, her face flushing with rage. "Are you rebelling against me?"

Amy scoffed. "Spare me the theatrics. He was the one who took Liam out. And yet I’m the one getting slapped?" Her tone sharpened. "Pick a side."

The revelation hit Margaret like a physical blow. She turned to Alexander, searching for confirmation.

His expression darkened, the red marks stark on his skin. "Mom, this wasn’t Amy’s fault."

Margaret faltered—but pride quickly stiffened her spine. "A woman’s duty is to her family," she declared, chin lifting. "Even if she isn’t directly at fault, as Liam’s mother, she bears responsibility."

Amy’s eyes were glacial. "I’ll take responsibility for my own actions. But why should I answer for his mistakes?"

Her voice dropped lower, dangerous. "Margaret, when you belittle women like this—do you forget that you’re one of us?"

Margaret’s hand twitched, ready to strike again—but Amy’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

"Hit me again, and I’ll have you charged with assault."

Margaret let out a bitter laugh. "Assault? You just struck Alexander! The police would arrest you!"

Amy tilted her head, a mocking smile playing on her lips. "You’re mistaken. Alexander and I are married. Domestic disputes aren’t criminal matters." She paused, then added coolly, "And if you can hit me—why can’t I hit him?"

Her gaze hardened. "Just because I married into the Blackwood family doesn’t mean I’ll be your punching bag."