Amy's sharp gaze darted between Alexander's thunderous expression and Victoria's pursed lips, her mouth curving into a blade-like smirk. "What a shame I can't work miracles—otherwise, I'd show you exactly how the truth gets twisted in this house."

"That's quite alright," Oliver chimed in, tilting his head toward Victoria. "Didn't Amy mention that Ms. Langley has a special talent for that? Watching her spin tales is entertainment enough."

With Amy and Oliver trading barbs, even little Liam caught the sarcasm dripping from their words. Amy wasn't just mocking him—she was mocking his father too, for blindly believing every word Victoria fed them.

Amy knew explaining herself was futile. They wouldn’t listen, and she refused to waste her breath.

"Oliver," she said softly, squeezing his small hand, "don’t worry. Aunt Amy promised to go to the competition with you, and I won’t break that promise."

Oliver glanced up hesitantly. "But Liam might get mad..."

"Oh?" Amy turned to Liam, arching a brow. "Are you mad?"

Liam hadn’t expected her to call him out directly. Mistaking her calm tone for surrender, he lifted his chin, a haughty glint in his eyes. "Yes! I don’t want you going with that troublemaker!"

Amy tilted her head. "Then do you want me to go with you instead?"

Oliver’s grip on her fingers tightened, his knuckles turning white. Amy gave his shoulder a reassuring pat.

Liam hesitated, uncertainty flickering across his face. His mother’s presence at the competition would guarantee last place, and he’d already bragged to his friends about winning. The thought of their laughter made his stomach churn.

Victoria, sensing his turmoil, smoothly intervened. "Ms. Sinclair, there’s no need to pressure him. This competition means a lot to Liam. If you’d like to participate, perhaps another time would be better."

She smiled sweetly. "Don’t worry—I’ll make sure Liam considers it for the next one."

Relief washed over Liam. He nodded eagerly. "Yeah, next time. I already promised Victoria, and I have to keep my word."

Amy locked eyes with him. "What if I made you choose? Me or Victoria?"

Liam’s lips parted, but no words came out. Instinctively, he looked to Alexander for help.

Alexander’s voice was ice. "Amy, is it really necessary to put a child in that position?"

She laughed softly. "Asking him to choose between his mother and an aunt is cruel? Since when are those two roles equal?"

Alexander opened his mouth—then closed it, momentarily thrown. But he recovered fast, lips twisting into a sneer. "Maybe if you’d ever acted like a mother, Liam wouldn’t be clinging to scraps of attention from others."

Amy feigned enlightenment. "Ah, so Victoria takes better care of him? Let’s see—she knew about his lactose intolerance but still fed him ice cream. She gave him nuts and landed him in the hospital. And when he was hospitalized, she made him seafood stew."

Her gaze turned razor-sharp. "Alexander, is that what you call ‘good care’?"

Alexander fell silent.

Then Liam suddenly spoke up, his voice trembling with resentment. "She’s still better than you!"

His eyes burned into Amy’s. "At least Victoria tried to help when I was sick! You and that troublemaker just stood there—wishing I was dead!"