"Amy, I'm sorry. It's my fault Liam got upset."

Oliver's eyes were glassy with unshed tears as he took the phone from her.

"I'll delete everything," he whispered, looking so small and vulnerable that even the preschool teachers watching felt their hearts twist in sympathy.

The sight of Oliver clinging to the housekeeper like she was his lifeline—just a little boy desperate for love—was almost too much to bear. Who could blame him for that?

Amy's chest tightened. "Oliver, you don't have to delete anything. It's fine," she said softly, stopping him.

"But Mr. Blackwood might not like it," Oliver murmured, his head bowed.

"It's okay," Amy reassured him, brushing a gentle hand over his hair.

Then, quieter, she added, "As long as no one is hurt, you shouldn't have to change yourself just to please others."

Oliver nodded. "I'll listen to you, Amy."

A deep, authoritative voice cut through the air. "I want to see his phone."

Amy frowned. "Alexander, don't you think that's a bit extreme? He's just a child."

Alexander remained composed. "I know Liam. He wouldn't lie about this."

Before Amy could argue, Oliver tugged at her sleeve, his expression wise beyond his years. "If Mr. Blackwood wants to check, it's okay."

The teachers exchanged glances, impressed by the boy's maturity.

After a brief hesitation, Amy nodded. But instead of handing the phone directly to Alexander, she turned to the teachers. "If we're going to do this, let's all see it together. That way, no one can twist the truth later."

She glanced at the nearest teacher. "You have a projector, right?"

"Yes," the teacher answered quickly. "In the meeting room next door."

They moved to the meeting room, where Oliver's phone screen was projected onto the wall.

His preschool account was filled with innocent photos and childish musings—nothing more than a little boy documenting his life. It was clear how easily a misunderstanding could have happened.

Amy then opened his messages and contacts. Everything was perfectly normal.

"So," Amy said, crossing her arms, "can we agree now that Oliver wasn't trying to provoke Liam?"

Victoria spoke up sharply. "Liam said Oliver showed him photos and videos. Ms. Sinclair, why not check his gallery?"

Amy shot her a cool look before opening Oliver's photo gallery. It was full of pictures—selfies with Amy, candid shots of them together, but nothing inappropriate.

"Check the videos too," Victoria pressed.

Amy obliged. The videos were harmless—Amy cooking, picking Oliver up from school, laughing together. She played each one to the end.

Then she opened the video of Victoria's fall.

Victoria's face paled. "Stop! That has nothing to do with today!"

Amy smirked. "Let's watch it all the way through. Wouldn't want anyone accusing Oliver of editing things later."

Ignoring Victoria's protests, Amy hit play. When the first video ended, she swiped to the next without hesitation.

The mood in the room shifted instantly.

One by one, the expressions of those watching darkened.