"Alexander Blackwood appears to be such a charismatic gentleman, yet he's the kind who keeps a secret lover despite all the devotion Amy has shown him. Hmph, this time I'll ensure they understand—with the Whitmores standing behind her, no one dares to mistreat that poor girl."

...

The moment Amy secured the medicine, she immediately sought out Alexander.

"I have the medicine. Now, will you release Samantha?"

Alexander eyed the unremarkable vial with skepticism.

"How do I know this isn't counterfeit?"

Amy's fingers curled into fists instinctively. No matter what she did, he always doubted her without hesitation. Yet, no matter how many lies Victoria spun, he believed her unconditionally.

"It's genuine," Amy replied flatly. "If you don't trust me, show it to Margaret. She's been taking it for two years—she'll recognize the real thing instantly."

Alexander's tone remained indifferent. "Fine. Then come back to the estate with me."

Amy felt no sorrow at his lack of faith. She simply nodded. "Alright."

At the Blackwood Mansion, Margaret slammed her palm against the table, her face flushed with fury.

"What?! Amy hasn't returned home in ages? She's not just neglecting you—she's raising some outsider's child?!"

Liam nodded, recalling the incident vividly. His voice quivered with tears, as if reliving the injustice all over again.

"When I asked Mom to choose between us, she picked that other boy. His father said taking care of me isn't profitable, but taking care of his son is."

"That little troublemaker Oliver comes by every day, bragging about how kind Mom is—picking him up from school, making him snacks, cooking his favorite dishes..."

Margaret wanted to scold Amy, but seeing Liam's pitiful expression, her anger softened into sympathy.

She soothed him, "Don't listen to that brat. He's lying to you."

"No, he's telling the truth!"

Liam pulled out his phone. "He sends me pictures of all the meals Mom makes for him."

Charlotte leaned in and gasped at the images. "Goodness, those are definitely Amy's signature dishes... Only she crafts desserts with those intricate designs."

She swiped through more photos. "Isn't that Amy's specialty?"

"And this plating style—no one else arranges food like her."

"Oh! Isn't that the herbal dish Amy only makes for Liam? You can't even find this in high-end restaurants..."

With each word Charlotte uttered, Liam's eyes grew redder—filled with hurt, resentment, and envy.

Margaret frowned and cut in, "Enough, Charlotte. Liam, don't worry. When your mother returns, I'll give her a stern lecture."

Liam rolled up his sleeve, revealing a faint bruise. "That boy at preschool always provokes me. He starts fights, but when the teacher comes, he acts like I pushed him! Now everyone thinks I'm the bully and forces me to apologize!"

Though the marks on his delicate skin weren't severe, they looked alarming.

Margaret's eyes welled with angry tears. "This is unacceptable! Tomorrow, I'll accompany you and deal with that little menace myself."

Before she could finish, a servant rushed in. "Madam, Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood have arrived."