The conversation flowed effortlessly between them, as if they'd known each other for years.

The foreign gentleman introduced himself as Julian Montclair. At thirty, he was a true aristocrat of Solmaris.

Unlike Dominic Laurent, who had tried to humiliate Amy Sinclair, Julian had a different agenda—he wanted to test the limits of Amy's French proficiency.

His questions were meticulously crafted—not impossibly difficult, but sharp enough to expose any weaknesses.

Amy answered each one with unshakable composure, never faltering.

Finally, Julian broke into spontaneous applause, his admiration evident.

Switching to impeccable English, he announced to the room, "Ladies and gentlemen, this remarkable woman has undoubtedly earned a perfect score!"

As a renowned linguist and scion of one of Solmaris' most prestigious families, Julian's endorsement was a public rebuke to those like Dominic.

But Dominic didn't dare show even a flicker of displeasure. Julian Montclair was heir to one of the Four Noble Houses of Solmaris—crossing him was unthinkable.

The audience struggled to comprehend how a supposed "ordinary housewife" like Amy had impressed someone as exacting as Julian. It defied belief.

Julian was notorious for his impossibly high standards. Earlier, he'd only given Victoria Langley and Oliver Kingsley a ninety-six.

Yet here he was, awarding Amy Sinclair a flawless one hundred without hesitation.

Dominic still privately dismissed Amy. He'd heard the rumors—a high school dropout abandoned by her husband. How could she possibly compare to Victoria?

He'd always admired Victoria. That's why he'd agreed to help Nathan Prescott with this scheme.

But under Julian's piercing gaze, Dominic could only choke out a stiff apology.

"My apologies. I misjudged your abilities."

With visible reluctance, he erased his zero and replaced it with a perfect score for Amy.

Thus, Amy's performance concluded: one hundred out of one hundred.

Though other contestants remained, Amy didn't linger. With a graceful bow and a murmured thanks to the audience, she took Oliver's hand and exited the stage.

At the Blackwood team's table, the atmosphere was glacial.

They'd been certain of victory—only to have it stolen by Amy Sinclair at the last moment.

Victoria's fists clenched so tightly her knuckles bleached white, her jaw locked with enough force to shatter teeth.

Amy Sinclair must have been her sworn enemy in a past life.

Just then, Nathan's phone vibrated.

He glanced at the screen—his father calling. He answered immediately.

"Father? What is it?"

Reginald Prescott's voice brimmed with rare approval. "Nathan, well done. For once, you've actually shown some intelligence."

Nathan blinked in confusion. "What? What are you talking about?"

Reginald continued, "Aren't you live-streaming right now? Amy's trending again. Since you're the one broadcasting, the internet's exploding. People are starting to believe last time's incident was staged publicity between you two..."

Whatever else Reginald said, Nathan didn't hear.

His face drained of color as he stared blankly at his phone across the room.

He'd been so certain Amy couldn't possibly recover. That's why he'd set up the tripod earlier—carefully selecting the angle and position. With so many allies present, holding a phone to stream would have been awkward and exhausting.

In his excitement over the spectacle, he'd completely forgotten the live stream was still running.