"...Alexander, I'm perfectly fine. Honestly, it was my own carelessness that caused this."

Alexander's voice remained calm but firm. "The pieces can't be put back together now. It's done."

Victoria knelt carefully, her fingers hovering over the shattered porcelain. "But...Liam crafted this himself. Such a waste." Her expression twisted with genuine distress. "Perhaps...we could find someone to restore it?"

Alexander caught her wrist gently but decisively. "Stop. You'll cut yourself again. If it means that much, I'll have Liam make you a new one."

Victoria protested weakly several more times before finally relenting with a resigned sigh.

When she turned to Amy, her polite smile didn't reach her eyes—where triumph and condemnation flickered instead.

"Ms. Sinclair, regardless of the circumstances, destroying property isn't the solution, wouldn't you agree?"

Alexander fixed his gaze on Amy, disapproval evident. "Amy, has it really come to this? A simple mug threatens you now?"

The moment the words left their mouths, they noticed the odd, almost disbelieving stares from everyone else in the room.

Victoria's eye twitched imperceptibly.

Then she realized—Liam, who usually rushed to her side, hadn't moved from where he stood.

A dry chuckle broke the silence. Sebastian spoke up, his tone laced with amusement.

"Mr. Blackwood, Ms. Langley, shouldn't you verify facts before assigning blame? Basic logic, I'd think."

His sharp gaze traveled between them. "You both strike me as intelligent individuals. Why skip the investigation phase?"

"You saw broken ceramic and immediately assumed Amy threw a tantrum. Tell me—does she make a habit of smashing tableware? Or..."

Sebastian paused, his expression turning pointed as he locked eyes with Alexander.

"Are you simply so accustomed to making Amy the scapegoat that it's become second nature?"

Samantha snorted. "Amy didn't break anything. With reasoning skills like yours, I'm amazed either of you runs a successful company. The bar must be subterranean these days."

Oliver spoke quietly. "It was my fault. I knocked it over. Amy wasn't even near it."

The weight of collective judgment pressed down on Alexander and Victoria.

Alexander's face remained impassive, but Victoria's mask began slipping.

She bit her lip, drawing breath to defend herself—

Amy's cool voice sliced through the tension first.

"Let me guess—you're about to claim they're all biased because they're my friends? That they'd lie for me, correct?"

Little Liam, who'd been watching anxiously, finally piped up in his high, clear voice. "Mommy didn't do it...it was the clumsy boy..."

The room went utterly still.

Victoria's gaze snapped to Liam. "Are you certain, sweetheart?"

Too young to recognize the implicit accusation, Liam simply nodded. Amy, however, understood perfectly.

She met Victoria's stare with a faint, knowing smile.

"Ms. Langley, you suspect my own son would fabricate stories to protect me, don't you?"