"I'm so sorry—I wasn't paying attention, and now your jacket is ruined... Please, let me take it and clean it for you?"

Amy lingered outside the door, unable to see their expressions.

Alexander remained silent for what felt like an eternity before finally responding.

"Don't worry about it." His tone was even, betraying no irritation, as if the stained fabric meant nothing to him.

"But you've been wearing this one so often lately—it must be your favorite, right? Alex, I insist on fixing my mistake. I'll make sure it's perfect again..."

Victoria's voice cracked slightly, laced with sudden vulnerability.

"Alex... do you hate me now? Is that why you won't let me help?"

"No."

A soft sniffle. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Then... will you let me take it?"

This time, the pause stretched even longer. Finally, Alexander exhaled. "Fine."

Victoria's voice brightened instantly. "I'll bring it back as good as new."

Not long after the conversation ended, Amy heard the front door shut—Alexander had left.

To avoid any awkward encounters, she waited a full half-hour before venturing downstairs.

On the first floor, she spotted two nurses carrying a familiar jacket, chatting as they walked.

"Rich people are something else. One little stain and they just throw it away?"

"Please, Alexander Blackwood could burn a jacket every hour and not feel it. This thing probably costs more than our monthly salaries combined."

"Ms. Langley was very clear—straight to the trash. Shame, though. I would’ve kept it."

"Don’t even think about it. Their castoffs aren’t for us."

With that, they tossed it into the bin.

Once they were gone, Amy approached.

There it was—the jacket she had given him. Her fingers curled around the fabric, gripping it until her knuckles turned white.

After realizing Dominic had been lying to her, Amy decided to stop waiting for a call that would never come. Instead, she went straight to Blackwood Enterprises.

The moment she stepped inside, two receptionists intercepted her.

"Miss, who are you here to see?"

Amy met their gaze. "Alexander Blackwood."

The moment his name left her lips, their polite smiles froze. Their eyes darted to each other, suddenly wary. "Do you have business with Mr. Blackwood?"

She held their stares. "It's urgent."

One of them frowned. "Do you have an appointment?"

She didn’t. "I'm Mrs. Blackwood. I need to see him."

Another exchanged glance. "We... don’t recognize you." They knew Alexander was married, but the elusive "Mrs. Blackwood" had never shown her face here before.

The other receptionist shifted uncomfortably. "Mr. Blackwood’s orders—no one gets in without an appointment."

A tight smile. "Miss, if you really are his wife, why not call him yourself? If he confirms it, we’ll let you right through."