The moment Amy Sinclair slid into the passenger seat, Alexander Blackwood noticed her distant gaze. She didn’t even bother to fasten her seatbelt.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, voice low.

Amy didn’t answer, her eyes locked onto something outside the window.

Following her line of sight, Alexander spotted the small reserved parking sign directly in front of her. His expression darkened.

Without warning, he leaned in, his broad frame casting a shadow over her. Amy instinctively recoiled, brows knitting together, but he merely reached across her to click the seatbelt into place.

“Safety first,” he murmured, his breath brushing her ear.

In the backseat, Victoria Langley watched the exchange with a flicker of irritation before forcing a polite smile. “Even in the front, you should always buckle up, Ms. Sinclair. Alex is so considerate.”

Amy nearly scoffed.

Considerate? Oh, he was considerate—considerate enough to leave another woman’s belongings right in her face.

“Fastening a seatbelt is considerate?” Amy shot back. “Ms. Langley, your standards must be painfully low.”

Victoria, ever the gracious conversationalist, pressed on. “Then, Ms. Sinclair, what would you consider considerate?”

Amy’s voice was ice. “Someone who drops everything when I call, no matter what they’re doing. Someone who defends me unconditionally, even if I’m wrong—and makes anyone who dares criticize me feel like the villain. Someone who gives me whatever I want, even if it belongs to someone else. And if I cry?” She tilted her head, a cold smile playing on her lips. “They’d be so heartbroken, they’d lose all rationality and side with me completely. Oh, and one more thing—” She turned to Victoria, eyes sharp. “If I were sick, they’d demand their family cook me healing soup every single day. Otherwise, how else would they prove they truly care?”

Victoria’s smile stiffened. Even if she pretended not to understand, the pointed words were impossible to miss.

Liam, listening intently, frowned.

His mother’s description sounded eerily familiar—like that troublemaker Oliver from school.

Confused, he piped up, “Why would anyone side with someone just because they act pitiful?”

Amy didn’t miss a beat. “Because they’re good at playing the victim. And let’s be honest—people favor those they care about more. Even if they know it’s wrong, they’ll turn a blind eye.”

Liam’s chest tightened.

Was Mom already starting to favor Oliver? Why?

A sudden fear gripped him, the thought of losing something precious making his face pale.

Alexander’s voice cut through the tension. “Amy, you shouldn’t say things like that in front of Liam. It’s a bad influence.”

Amy arched a brow. “Oh? And who taught him to lie in the first place?”

She had always been the quiet, compliant wife—never one to argue. Now, her sharp retorts left Alexander momentarily speechless.

After dropping Victoria off, Alexander drove toward the Blackwood estate. The familiar scenery blurred past, and though Amy had only been gone a month, it felt like years.

Once inside, Alexander turned to Liam. “Go upstairs for a bit.”

Liam nodded obediently, but before he could leave, Amy stopped him. “Wait. There are things he deserves to know.”