Amy had encountered her share of unwanted advances before, but this was different—it was brazen daylight harassment, no better than a street robbery.

Samantha moved closer to comfort her. "It's alright, Amy. It's over now."

Sebastian shot Maxwell Winthrop a mocking glance. "Mr. Winthrop, what's this? You've reduced the lady to tears?"

Maxwell realized he'd stepped beyond redemption.

Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees, striking himself repeatedly across the face with brutal force.

"Mr. Kingsley, I was out of line! I swear on my life—it'll never happen again!"

The blows landed with sickening thuds, his cheeks swelling crimson within moments.

In a desperate show of contrition, Maxwell grabbed a wine bottle from the table and smashed it against his own skull—once, twice—glass shards exploding across the VIP lounge.

No one intervened as fragments rained down, the only sound being the bottle's destruction.

Amy stood frozen, stunned by the grotesque display.

Only when Maxwell collapsed unconscious did Sebastian finally turn away. He addressed Samantha. "We have Amy. Shall we leave?"

Samantha gave a silent nod.

Outside the club, Samantha glanced at the man beside her. "Thank you, Mr. Kingsley. Truly."

Sebastian's lips curved. "No thanks necessary between us, Amy."

She understood perfectly—without Sebastian's intervention, finding Amy would have been impossible.

Sebastian checked his platinum watch. "Let's get you to the hospital first."

Amy, knowing Samantha had come despite running a high fever, felt guilt twist in her chest.

"Celeste, I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking clearly."

Samantha offered a reassuring smile. "You've nothing to apologize for. You were defending yourself. Besides..."

A glacial light flickered in Samantha's eyes.

"This wasn't coincidence. Someone orchestrated this."

Amy inhaled sharply, comprehension dawning.

Thirty minutes later, Sebastian pulled up to the hospital.

Amy stayed by Samantha's side during the IV treatment.

Samantha turned to Sebastian. "You should rest, Mr. Kingsley. Oliver must be waiting."

Sebastian shook his head, making no move to depart. "Oliver's asleep by now. It's not as if I tuck him in—my presence changes nothing."

He turned to Amy. "I'll fetch some food. Ms. Reynolds, any requests?"

Amy understood—Sebastian was staying for Samantha.

Their friendship allowed her to answer freely. "Just milk tea, thank you."

"Noted." Sebastian nodded. "Keep Celeste company. I'll return shortly."

Midnight had long passed when Samantha drifted off, the IV's monotony and fever pulling her under.

Dreams came—rare visions of her time with the Harringtons. Since leaving, she'd scarcely dreamed of them.

Three years in that mansion had brought no sense of belonging.

No affection had ever grown for her so-called father or brothers.

When her mother first spoke of three brothers and a father, Samantha's heart had fluttered with nervous hope.

She'd known about the half-sister.

Samantha expected Aurora's dislike.

What shocked her was her brothers' immediate rejection upon her arrival at Harrington Manor.

Her coldest brother hadn't let her cross the threshold before declaring, "Aurora Harrington is my only sister."