The two women were engrossed in their conversation when Amy’s phone suddenly buzzed.

Samantha gave her a wary look. "Please tell me Alexander isn’t pulling another disappearing act?"

Amy glanced at the screen—it was Margaret calling.

Her fingers hovered over the answer button. If Alexander had backed out again, she needed to know immediately.

The moment she accepted the call, Margaret’s frosty voice sliced through the line.

"Amy, Liam is running a fever. You need to return to the estate and tend to him. Now."

The command in her tone was as sharp as ever, dripping with entitlement.

Amy’s response was cool, measured. "If he’s unwell, call a doctor. I’m not a physician—there’s no reason to involve me."

Margaret’s breath hitched, her voice rising with outrage.

"You’re his mother, and that’s your answer? Have you no heart at all?"

Amy didn’t flinch. "Alexander and I are finalizing our divorce. Liam is a Blackwood now. In the future, don’t contact me for matters like this."

She paused, then added, "Unless, of course, you no longer want custody. Say the word, and I’ll come collect him myself."

"Divorce?" Margaret’s voice pitched higher. "You’re actually going through with it?"

"That’s right." Amy checked her watch. "Alexander should be arriving any minute."

Instead of sorrow or regret over her son’s failed marriage, Margaret felt only vindication. She’d despised Amy from the start.

If Liam hadn’t been crying for his mother, she wouldn’t have bothered calling. The staff could handle a fever, but having Amy play the dutiful caretaker suited her just fine—especially if it came free of charge.

But now—her son was finally free of Amy. It was cause for celebration.

"I told you from the beginning," Margaret sneered, "someone of your standing was never fit for Alexander. This was always inevitable. For Liam’s sake, stay away from him from now on."

"A boy like him deserves better than a mother with no pedigree, no education, no reputation. You’ll only ever be a stain on his life."

With that, she hung up, leaving nothing but silence.

Samantha studied Amy’s expression. "What happened? Did Alexander flake again?"

Amy shook her head. "Margaret. Liam has a fever."

Samantha arched a brow. "Again? He’s been sick a lot lately, hasn’t he? I thought his health improved after you started caring for him. Wasn’t the last time he was this ill before he turned three?"

A shadow flickered across Amy’s face.

"He stays up too late, eats junk, and despite his lactose intolerance, they still let him have sweets and cold drinks. No wonder he keeps falling sick."

Samantha tilted her head. "Alexander’s a bastard, but Liam’s your son… Can you really walk away?"

Amy opened her mouth to respond—but before she could speak, a tall figure appeared in the distance, striding toward them.

Samantha followed Amy’s gaze and gasped.

"It’s Alexander! He actually came!"

For some reason, Samantha sounded more thrilled about his arrival than Amy did.