Liam scrunched up his tiny face, his voice surprisingly firm for a five-year-old. "My tummy doesn't hurt anymore. The doctor said I can have treats sometimes. But Mommy always says no. She wants to control everything."

The word control sounded oddly mature coming from a child.

Before Alexander could respond, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He answered, and Victoria's hesitant voice filtered through. "Alexander, are you home?"

"I am."

"And... is Ms. Sinclair back yet?" she asked.

Alexander's grip tightened on the phone. "Why?"

"Well," Victoria stammered, "I saw her. She's having dinner with some man. They looked... close."

A beat of silence. Then, cautiously, she added, "Maybe something upset her earlier? You should talk to her."

Alexander's expression darkened. Amy had canceled dinner at home—for this?

His voice turned icy. "Where?"

Victoria gave him the address.

"Got it," he snapped before hanging up.

Inside a cozy diner, Benjamin Carter studied Amy intently. "So, have you decided?"

Amy nodded. "Celestial Nocturne was my mother’s gift to me. I put it aside for five years—for the family."

A wistful sigh escaped her, her eyes clouded with distant memories.

"And now?" Benjamin’s voice was deep, understanding. "Returning to performing means long hours. You won’t have much time for Alexander or Liam."

"Liam’s health is stable now," Amy said, a hint of bitterness in her tone. "And he doesn’t need me hovering."

"And Alexander?" Benjamin pressed. "Will he be okay with this?"

At the mention of Alexander’s name, Amy’s gaze turned cold. "I don’t need his permission to live my life."

Benjamin watched her quietly. "But he won’t like you spending time with me."

"I don’t care what he likes."

Guilt pricked at her. She had distanced herself from Benjamin because of Alexander’s words. "I’m sorry, Ben."

Benjamin shook his head gently. "Celeste, you have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I failed you. I promised your mother I’d look after you. But I let you suffer."

Benjamin had been Amy’s childhood friend. They had learned violin under her mother’s guidance. Now, he was a celebrated musician—his striking looks and soulful demeanor making him a sensation beyond classical circles.

Yet, compared to Alexander—a man of wealth and power—he stood no chance.

"It wasn’t your fault," Amy began, but a sugary voice cut her off.

"Ms. Sinclair! What a surprise seeing you here!"

Amy turned. Victoria stood there, clad in a pristine white sundress, her smile saccharine.

Twice in one day. Unbelievable.

Amy’s tone was glacial. "And why would that concern you?"

Victoria’s smile widened. "Oh, no need to be upset. But since Alexander actually came home tonight, shouldn’t you be there cooking for him?"