The Heiress They Couldn't Break (Amelia) novel Chapter 409

**Title: Broken by Destiny by George Orwell**
**Chapter 409: Scoring the Future**

Jeremy had faced this moment before, more times than he could count, so the sting of failure was a familiar companion. Each time he’d tried to bridge the gap between himself and her, he found himself falling short.

As he watched her retreating figure, a mix of amusement and helplessness surged within him. There she was, walking away as if their conversation had never happened. If her house hadn’t been just a stone’s throw away, he would have certainly pulled her back into the car, insisting on one more chance to make things right.

Yet, amidst his swirling thoughts, a significant realization struck him.

Was she really keeping track of his performance? The idea that she might have a secret scorebook—adding or subtracting points based on his actions—was both intriguing and oddly flattering.

That notion, however whimsical, brought a smile to his face. At least he was still in the running, still part of her selection pool.

With that thought, a flicker of satisfaction ignited within him. It seemed he would need to decipher what actions would earn him those coveted bonus points. If he could just hit her target score quickly enough, he might solidify his place in her heart.

After he dropped Amelia off, Jeremy’s phone buzzed with a call from Anderson. They decided to hit the bar for drinks, a choice that would lead to a night of laughter and too many rounds.

The following morning, Jeremy woke up to a sun that had already risen high in the sky, the clock showing it was well past ten or eleven. He felt the weight of the previous night’s indulgences pressing down on him, a dull throb in his head reminding him of the revelry.

As he shuffled down the stairs, still groggy, he was greeted by an unexpected sight in his living room.

“Well, well. Look who decided to sleep in! Our illustrious CEO of Curran Group, taking a natural break today?”

The voice belonged to none other than his mother, Whitney. She was sprawled across the couch, looking far too comfortable, with a bowl of fruit in her lap and the television blaring in the background. Her relaxed demeanor struck him as peculiar, given that he was used to her being a whirlwind of activity, always absorbed in her work at the research institute.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, a hint of disbelief coloring his tone.

His mother rarely graced his home with her presence, often preferring the solitude of the family estate, especially when she wasn’t tied up with her demanding job.

Seeing her lounging in his living room, munching on fruit as if she owned the place, was a scenario he never anticipated.

“It’s all your fault,” Whitney replied, her tone matter-of-fact. “You called off the engagement, and now every time I visit Bridget, she complains about it endlessly.”

Bridget had held Sabrina in high esteem, convinced that only her family was worthy of the Curran name. The engagement had brought her joy, and now that it was dissolved, she was relentless in her grievances.

Jeremy could only imagine the chaos that ensued when Whitney wasn’t home. Bridget would call him incessantly, voicing her discontent. The thought of living with that kind of daily nagging was enough to make him shudder.

So, no, she wasn’t worried about her son’s hunger or his lack of sleep—not even a little.

Jeremy could only stare at her in disbelief.

He knew it deep down; this woman was not the archetypal “great, caring mother” that most people envisioned.

In contrast, he was the one who felt sentimental about nothing.

Choosing not to engage further, he walked over to the open kitchen counter and sat down to have lunch in solitude.

“Why are you sitting so far away?” Whitney called out, her voice cutting through the silence. “Come over here! Since I’m finally back, you could at least sit with your mom and chat a little.”

Their home was vast, and without close company, it often felt empty and desolate.

Seeing him sitting apart, she waved him over with enthusiasm.

It wasn’t as if they were at the family estate; this wasn’t some formal gathering. It was just the two of them, and she wanted to make the most of it.