"Mrs. Blackwood, you once claimed you've never been bested except in violin. Was that just empty boasting?"

Amy Sinclair's piercing gaze locked onto Victoria Langley, catching the triumphant smirk dancing on her lips. In that instant, she understood Nathan Prescott's game.

"Let me see if I've got this right," Amy said, her voice laced with frosty amusement. "You're proposing another one of your childish wagers?"

Nathan stiffened visibly. The sharpness of her perception had caught him off guard—he hadn't expected her to see through their ploy so effortlessly.

"If you're as talented as you claim, what's the harm in a little friendly bet?"

Amy's expression remained unreadable. "Name your terms."

Nathan glanced around deliberately, projecting his voice to ensure nearby spectators could hear.

"When you lose, you'll crawl on all fours and howl like a mongrel."

"And if I lose?" He spread his hands dramatically. "I'll kneel and address you however you please—grandmother, ancient ancestor... hell, you can even make me call you mother or father."

Amy arched one perfectly shaped eyebrow. "You wish to be my child? Does Liam consent? Personally, I wouldn't mind, but I doubt Alexander would appreciate a stepson of your advanced age, Mr. Prescott."

Oliver Kingsley burst into laughter. The gathered crowd, initially indifferent toward Amy, found themselves unexpectedly charmed by her razor-sharp wit.

Nathan's composure nearly shattered before he remembered his objective.

"Unless," he taunted, "you're terrified of losing to Victoria and lack the courage to wager."

Amy saw straight through his pathetic manipulation. "I'll accept your bet on one condition—when you lose, Mr. Prescott joins you in your canine performance. I've no interest in disrespectful offspring."

Nathan's face twisted in fury. "Done! The loser barks like a dog! And no convenient excuses—no fainting spells, no broken strings, no sudden emergencies. Anything short of victory counts as your defeat. Agreed?"

Amy's face remained impassive. "Agreed."

Nathan barely contained his glee. "Then it's settled."

He'd already recorded their entire exchange. If she dared back out now, he'd flood social media with the footage and destroy what remained of her reputation.

Moments later, Alexander Blackwood entered with Liam in tow.

The boy spotted his mother immediately but turned his small face away in a huff, refusing to meet her eyes. She'd truly disappointed him this time—deliberately spilling juice all over Victoria to sabotage his chances!

She wasn't like this before. It had to be that meddlesome child poisoning her mind against him!

As competition time approached, parents began filing toward the auditorium. Victoria and Liam departed for backstage preparations.

The waiting area featured a massive screen broadcasting live performances from the stage.

Noting the time, Amy prepared to leave with Oliver when suddenly a towering figure blocked her path.

She looked up, her expression instantly turning glacial. "Alexander. What now?"

He hesitated before speaking. "I don't want you competing today."

Amy's lips curled into a mirthless smile, her eyes sharp enough to draw blood. "So if I insist, Mr. Blackwood, should I expect to be restrained? Or have you prepared something more... inventive?"

Her entire body tensed defensively as she scanned their surroundings, already calculating the fastest escape route should he attempt to physically prevent her from competing.

Alexander's eyes darkened with a mixture of shock and anger. "Amy, what kind of monster do you take me for?"

She let out a derisive laugh. "That depends entirely on your actions."

Alexander opened his mouth to respond, but the words died in his throat.