Amy Sinclair let out a laugh, the kind that bubbled up as if she'd just heard the most absurd joke in the world. "He adores Victoria so much, he's probably been counting down the days until our divorce—waiting for you to hand him a brand-new mother. Tell me, Alexander...do you think he'd even try to stop us?"

Alexander Blackwood exhaled sharply, his voice thick with exasperation. "Amy, for once, could you stop spinning wild theories out of thin air?"

"Wild theories?" Amy arched a brow, shifting her gaze to Liam. "Liam, sweetheart, why don’t you settle this for us? Between me and Victoria, who do you like more?"

The word divorce slammed into Liam’s mind like a wrecking ball. His parents—separating? The idea had never crossed his mind. In his world, no matter how bad things got, his mother would never leave. She wouldn’t abandon him. She wouldn’t abandon Dad.

"Amy," Alexander cut in, stepping between her and their son. "Why are you dragging him into this?"

"Asking a simple question is dragging him into it?" Amy’s laughter was light, almost musical, but there was an edge beneath it. "Fine, if he’s too young to answer, I’ll ask you instead. Alexander—between Victoria and me, who do you prefer?"

Alexander’s lips pressed into a thin line, but before he could speak, Amy held up a hand. "And don’t you dare say I’m being irrational. I’ve heard that one too many times. If you’re half the man I married, give me a straight answer."

The air in the room turned thick, suffocating.

Liam’s pulse hammered in his chest as he stared up at his father.

He did like Victoria. She was softer than his mom—kinder, sweeter. When she played the violin, she looked like something out of a fairy tale, always smelling of delicate perfume.

His mother, on the other hand, always smelled like herbs from the kitchen or the faint scent of ink from her compositions. She scolded him for eating too much sugar, for staying up too late, for arguing with other kids. Victoria never did that. Victoria let him have fun. She took his side, no matter what.

When he’d gotten into that fight with Oliver Kingsley, his mother had made him apologize. But Victoria? She’d whispered in his ear, "You didn’t do anything wrong."

With Victoria, he felt safe.

But if his father liked Victoria more than his own wife...was that right?

The silence stretched, unbearable.

And then—

Alexander spoke.