Amy Sinclair's breath hitched when she realized Margaret Blackwood had actually dialed 911. She whipped her head around, catching the older woman's triumphant smirk.

Her gaze flickered to Charlotte. "You couldn't stop her?"

Charlotte stammered, "I—I tried, but she wouldn't listen."

Ever since witnessing Amy overpower Victoria Langley, Charlotte's perception of her sister-in-law had shifted dramatically. This wasn't the meek, unremarkable woman she'd dismissed. No, Amy Sinclair was a force to be reckoned with.

Charlotte had always believed Victoria was better suited for her brother. Sure, Victoria was theatrical, but she had genuine talent. Why else would Alexander have been so infatuated with her?

Like Alexander, Charlotte admired artistic brilliance. She'd dabbled in piano, dabbled in painting—even attempted poetry—but her efforts had fallen flat.

Margaret scoffed. "What's wrong? Regretting your actions now? Too late. Enjoy prison, where your violin skills won't mean a damn thing."

Amy exhaled sharply before turning to Alexander. "She's elderly—maybe her judgment's slipping. But you? What's your excuse for letting her do something this reckless?"

Alexander had been preoccupied with Liam's medical examination, assuming Margaret was just blowing off steam. He hadn't expected her to escalate things.

"Mother," he snapped, brows furrowing. "Why would you involve the police?"

Margaret cut him off with a sharp wave. "Stay out of this, Alexander. If she doesn't face consequences, who knows how she'll manipulate my grandson next time!"

"Pathetic," Amy muttered under her breath before addressing the officer. "There's been a misunderstanding. My son left home voluntarily. I didn't abduct him." She paused, voice steady. "He's my child. What kind of mother kidnaps her own son?"

The officer blinked. "You're his mother?"

Amy nodded.

"Biologically?"

"Yes."

The officer scrutinized her before requesting identification. Amy handed it over without hesitation. The officer scanned it, and her details—including her parental status—flashed across his screen.

His expression shifted as he glanced at Margaret. A mother accused of kidnapping her own child? This family was something else.

"Ma'am," he said to Margaret, "this woman is the boy's legal guardian. There's no evidence of abduction."

Margaret's face flushed crimson. "They're divorcing! She took him without permission—she's planning something!"

"And look what happened!" Margaret's voice rose hysterically. "My grandson nearly drowned under her care! She's trying to hurt him!"

The officer sighed. "Ma'am, accusations require proof. Without evidence, this is just speculation."

"If you suspect abuse," he added, "file a formal report with documented proof. Otherwise, this is a family matter."