Again
Amanda slowly turned around, facing Benjamin who had clearly been waiting for her to return.
“What is it?” she asked, a trace of confusion flickering through her peach blossom eyes as she caught the coldness in his gaze.
Benjamin stared at her furiously, his voice sharp:
“Who told you to take Mark out?”
Amanda frowned slightly. She hadn’t taken Mark out. But Benjamin wasn’t the kind of person to make baseless accusations.
His gaze shifted toward Mark, who stood not far away with his eyes lowered in silence. From his younger brother’s words earlier, he had already gathered that Amanda was his mother.
He had always been clever, with an exceptional talent for painting.
His thoughts and reasoning were different from most children.
“I—”
Amanda had only just started to speak when
