Amy cut him off sharply. "Save your apologies, Mr. Prescott. Even if you groveled, I wouldn't accept it. What you've done isn't something a simple 'sorry' can fix."

Nathan smirked, his expression deliberately careless. "You said it yourself. Don't back down now."

"I won't," Amy replied, her voice steady. "But it's a pity, really."

Nathan's brows furrowed. "A pity? What's that supposed to mean?"

She met his gaze without flinching. "If you'd admitted your mistakes earlier, things might have been different. But now? That opportunity is gone. You had your chance—and you wasted it."

Nathan scoffed, about to mock her dramatic words—until he noticed Amy's eyes flick toward the entrance.

A group of uniformed officers strode in, stopping directly in front of him.

"Mr. Prescott, we have a report of breaking and entering, along with willful property damage. You'll need to come with us for questioning."

Nathan instinctively protested, "This is ridiculous—there's been some mistake!"

But when he hesitated, the officers closed in, surrounding him. "Mr. Prescott," one said firmly, "we need your cooperation."

Realizing that resisting would only make the scene worse—and he might end up being dragged out in cuffs—Nathan fell silent. His pride couldn't handle that kind of humiliation.

He didn’t need to ask who had turned him in.

His glare burned into Amy. "Enjoy this while it lasts, Amy. You'll regret it. The higher you rise, the harder you'll fall."

As Nathan was escorted away, murmurs of shock rippled through the crowd. But since he wasn’t a central figure, the event quickly resumed its usual rhythm.

Victoria, visibly distressed, turned to Alexander. "Alex, the police just took Nathan! Shouldn’t we do something?"

Alexander barely glanced in Nathan’s direction before looking away, his voice cold. "He did this to himself."

"But—"

He cut her off, his gaze unreadable as it settled on her. "Nathan's arrogance has gone too far. It's about time he faced consequences."

Victoria's breath hitched—she couldn’t argue.

Destroying Amy’s studio—Alexander might have overlooked that, even considered it revenge on her behalf. But Nathan’s earlier words had crossed a line.

No matter what, Amy was still Alexander’s ex-wife. To humiliate her publicly was to humiliate him.

Victoria silently cursed Nathan’s idiocy.

Amy, meanwhile, paid them no attention. Her focus shifted to Mr. Pendleton.

"Mr. Pendleton, I apologize for the disruption," she began, but the older man raised a hand.

"I know who you are."

Amy paused, surprised.

Mr. Pendleton continued, "I watched your performance before arriving at Solmaris Conservatory. You're gifted—extraordinary potential. Among all my students, only a handful could rival you."

It was high praise, and Amy’s eyes brightened with excitement.

But then Mr. Pendleton’s tone shifted, his piercing gaze sharpening with disappointment.

"You're Caroline’s daughter, no doubt—remarkable talent. But you’re nothing like her. She lived for music. You?"

He studied her, his disapproval evident. "You don’t truly love it. You’d abandon it for your family without hesitation. No matter how skilled you are, that’s not what I seek. Who’s to say you won’t walk away from music again someday?"