Sebastian was involved too, so there was no point keeping Alexander in the dark about what had transpired.

After hearing the full account, Alexander let out an amused chuckle.

"You two never fail to surprise me."

It was only then that Theodore Whitmore noticed the strikingly handsome man standing behind Amy and Samantha.

"And who might this gentleman be?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Amy made the introductions. "This is Sebastian Kingsley, Oliver's father."

Theodore studied Sebastian with keen interest, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"Hmm... Oliver doesn't resemble you much."

Sebastian returned the scrutiny, a flicker of recognition crossing his features—he was certain he'd seen this elderly gentleman somewhere before, but the memory remained frustratingly elusive.

He smiled politely. "Oliver takes after his late mother in appearance."

Amy turned back to Theodore. "Mr. Whitmore, I'll do everything possible to recover your losses. But I must advise against contacting Nathan—he won't be cooperative."

She spoke bluntly, "Nathan has a vicious tongue and a petty nature. At your age, there's no need to subject yourself to his venom."

Pausing for emphasis, she added, "With Prescott Industries backing him and his notorious grudges, direct confrontation isn't advisable."

Nathan was like a rabid animal—unpredictable and dangerous. Theodore was just an ordinary elderly man; Amy feared he might become collateral damage.

But Theodore squared his shoulders defiantly. "I don't give a damn! That little bastard needs to hear what I have to say!"

Amy sighed in resignation. She knew his stubborn nature—he wouldn't rest until he'd spoken his mind.

After brief consideration, she dialed Nathan's number herself.

Fine, she decided. Let Theodore have his say first.

As for the consequences...

A steely glint flashed in Amy's eyes. She'd make sure any retaliation fell on her shoulders instead.

The call connected instantly, Nathan's smug voice dripping with condescension.

"Well, well, if it isn't the illustrious Amy Sinclair. To what do I owe this unexpected call? Coming to beg for my help? Trying to reconcile with Alexander, perhaps?"

He chuckled darkly. "For old times' sake, I might consider assisting you. But you'll need to ask very nicely. Oh, and Victoria's developed quite the taste for your cooking—how about preparing her meals for a month? Do that, and I might put in a good word. Fair deal?"

Theodore's booming voice shattered Nathan's gloating. "Enough of your nonsense, you spoiled brat! Who the hell do you think you are, destroying my property? Have you lost your damn mind?"

Nathan paused, recognizing Theodore's voice, then burst into mocking laughter.

"Look who's still kicking! I expected you'd be hospitalized by now. Pity my little surprise didn't give you a heart attack—all those paramedics standing by for nothing."

His tone turned venomous. "Here's a better idea, old man—publicly apologize to me. And while you're at it, slap Amy twice. Do that, and I might forget your previous disrespect. Maybe then I'll leave you alone."

Theodore actually laughed in disbelief. "You're delusional! If you want an apology, you'll be waiting till hell freezes over! Listen closely, you arrogant whelp—how about you come here, kneel, slap yourself silly, and repay every cent you owe me? Then—maybe—I'll consider forgiving you. Otherwise, you'll regret the day you crossed me!"

This time, both Nathan and Victoria's derisive laughter echoed through the phone.

Clearly, they considered Theodore's threats empty.

To Victoria, he was just another silver-tongued fraud with a "wise elder" persona. Had she not known his true nature beforehand, she might have fallen for his act too.