"This injury is entirely my own doing... Ms. Sinclair had nothing to do with it," I insisted, forcing my voice to remain calm despite the throbbing pain.

Nathan's enraged shout sliced through the tense atmosphere like a blade. "That old man knows Amy! Only a fool would believe she's innocent!"

Before I could formulate a response, Nathan burst into the room like a storm, his fury palpable. "Amy Sinclair, I'm warning you. If you make Victoria's life difficult one more time, you'll live to regret it!"

Theodore Whitmore arched an eyebrow, his expression hovering between annoyance and amusement. "Nathan, it's barely dawn. Did you wake up with a thundercloud over your head, or is this just your usual morning temperament?"

Nathan, resembling a rabid beast ready to lash out at anyone in sight, turned his venomous glare toward Theodore.

He thrust a finger inches from Theodore's face, his expression dark with menace. "Listen here, old man. If you so much as breathe in Victoria's direction, I'll personally ensure you never walk again!"

"And you!" he snarled at Oliver, who had instinctively ducked behind Amy for protection. "One more word about Victoria, and I'll scatter your teeth across this room!"

Oliver, visibly shaken by Nathan's outburst, pressed closer to Amy. Satisfied with the fear he'd instilled, Nathan's lips curled into a cruel smirk. He inhaled sharply, preparing to unleash another torrent of threats.

But before he could, a steaming cup of coffee sailed through the air and splashed across Nathan's face. He howled in pain, clutching his scalded skin. "What the hell is wrong with you? Have you lost your mind?!"

Amy stepped forward, her voice as icy as a winter gale. "Get out. You're nothing but a pathetic bully."

The freshly brewed coffee had left Nathan's face an angry shade of crimson. His vision blurred from the stinging pain, he blinked rapidly, trying to clear his sight. His relationship with Amy had always been fraught with tension, and his disdain for Oliver and Theodore had only grown over time. Today was supposed to be his moment to put them in their place—yet here he stood, humiliated and seething.

"Amy Sinclair, you witch!" Nathan roared, his pride in tatters. "If I don't make you pay today, I'll renounce my own name!"

From behind Amy, Oliver couldn't resist a jab. "Mr. Prescott, changing your name? Planning to take Ms. Langley's surname, perhaps?"

He had considered suggesting something more absurd, but given Amy already had a son with questionable judgment, he thought better of it.

Nathan, now resembling a bull provoked beyond reason, charged at them with a guttural yell. "I'll tear you all to pieces!"

Victoria lingered at the edge of the room, her lips twitching into a barely concealed smirk. "Nathan, calm down. Let's discuss this rationally," she said, making no move to intervene.

Sensing the impending disaster, Theodore had already slipped away unnoticed. Amy, never one to take unnecessary risks, grabbed Oliver and retreated into the back room, swiftly locking the door behind them.

The door trembled with each furious blow from Nathan's fists. Oliver cast a nervous glance at Theodore. "Will this door hold?" he asked, his voice tight with anxiety.

Theodore cleared his throat. "Well, it's stood for decades. But against this kind of assault? Doubtful."

Oliver swallowed hard. "What now? That maniac isn't stopping..."