Liam cast Hilda a glance, a faint, mocking smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Mrs. Hilda, the daughter you raised is certainly… charmingly naïve."
His tone dripped with disdain. Anyone with ears could tell—it wasn't a compliment. It was sarcasm, razor-sharp and deliberate, aimed squarely at both Sophia and her mother. A verbal jab with just enough politeness to sting all the more.
Hilda opened her mouth, perhaps to explain or defend her daughter, but Liam didn't even wait for her to finish forming a sentence. He had already lost interest.
Without another word, he took Ava's hand in his and turned on his heel. Noah followed just behind, calm as ever. They walked off, leaving Hilda standing alone in the hallway, flushed and speechless. She felt the eyes of nearby guests flicker toward her before quickly turning away, pretending not to notice her discomfort.
