A sleek black limousine idled at the curb, its tinted windows reflecting the afternoon sun.

The door glided open to reveal Alexander, Victoria, and Liam already seated inside. Liam glanced up as Margaret and Charlotte entered, offering a quiet greeting.

"Grandmother. Aunt Charlotte."

Margaret barely acknowledged him with a curt nod. Her sharp gaze instead fixed on Victoria.

Victoria looked breathtaking today—dressed in a flowing champagne-colored gown that accentuated her delicate features, every movement exuding refined elegance.

Margaret's lips pursed. "Why is she accompanying us to Mr. Whitmore's celebration?"

Alexander's voice remained steady. "The invitation explicitly included Victoria."

Margaret's eyebrows shot up. "They invited her? Since when does the Whitmore family associate with someone like her?"

Victoria offered a demure smile. "Perhaps because I'm now Maestro Pendleton's protégé. That might explain the invitation."

This revelation softened Margaret's expression slightly.

She'd been considering accepting Victoria into the family—if Alexander had truly moved on from Amy, it might be tolerable. But lately, Alexander hadn't mentioned Amy at all. Maybe he'd finally forgotten that woman.

New possibilities began forming in Margaret's mind.

If Alexander remarried, why settle for Victoria? While certainly superior to Amy, there were countless eligible young women from prestigious families—some who might overlook that Alexander already had a child.

Tonight's gala presented the perfect opportunity.

She knew better than to hope for someone like Genevieve or Aurora, but the Whitmore family had several unmarried daughters. It wouldn't hurt to see if any caught Alexander's eye. If nothing materialized, she could always reconsider Victoria.

Now that Victoria studied under the legendary Arthur Pendleton, her value had increased—if only her pedigree weren't so lacking.

"Is Maestro Pendleton attending tonight?" Margaret inquired.

Victoria nodded gracefully. "Yes, my mentor will be present."

Finally turning her attention to Liam, who had remained unusually quiet, Margaret asked, "How are your studies progressing, dear? Keeping up with your lessons?"

Liam shook his head slightly to indicate no difficulties.

Sensing his melancholy, Margaret gently pressed, "What troubles you, sweetheart?"

She'd specifically requested Alexander bring Liam tonight. Elderly patrons always doted on children, and Liam's intelligence and charm might endear him to Theodore Whitmore, potentially forging valuable connections.

Liam finally lifted his gaze, his voice barely audible. "I miss Mother."

It had been weeks since he'd seen her. Recently, he'd spotted her collecting that troublesome boy from preschool occasionally, but she hadn't appeared at all lately.

He longed to call her, but pride restrained him.

Before, his mother would be waiting every afternoon—hovering, fretting over his meals, ensuring he dressed appropriately. At the time, he'd found it irritating.

Now the mansion felt cavernously empty, devoid of warmth. It no longer felt like home.

Margaret scoffed at the mention of Amy.

"If she cared, wouldn't she have visited even once? She's too busy chasing Sebastian Kingsley now. You're better off focusing on finding a proper mother."