The Heiress They Couldn't Break (Amelia) novel Chapter 414

**Chapter 414: Moronic Mother**

“So, you’re really just going to sit there and do nothing? Is it because you’re terrified that your brothers might take what belongs to you?”

Amelia leaned back, folding her arms across her chest, a casual shrug escaping her shoulders. Her face remained an impassive mask, not a flicker of emotion crossing her features.

If this had been the Amelia who had returned to the family after her long absence, she might have felt a twinge of guilt. She might have been gripped by the fear of being misunderstood, of being seen as the villain in a story she had never intended to write.

Back then, panic would have coursed through her veins. She would have launched into a desperate explanation, her voice trembling with urgency, striving to make them understand her perspective until her words faltered and cracked under the pressure.

But now? Now she felt a liberating indifference. She owed them nothing, not a single explanation.

Their voices were mere background noise, fading into the ether, unable to penetrate the wall she had built around her heart.

“Ursula, did you hear that? She just admitted it! She has no respect for us! She doesn’t even want to mend the rifts in this family!”

Emery’s voice rose, her chest heaving with frustration. Her hands trembled, and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, reflecting the turmoil within her.

Hearing her daughter speak in such a dismissive tone ignited a fierce rage within her, a desire to strike out, to silence that insolent mouth.

When Amelia had been a little girl, she had embodied sweetness itself, always gentle and kind, a beacon of innocence. But now? Now she was insufferable, a thorn in Emery’s side.

“Honestly, with that attitude, who in their right mind would want to reconcile with you?”

Ursula’s palm slammed down onto the table, the sound reverberating through the air like a gunshot, a sharp crack that sliced through the tension. Her face was a canvas of fury, flushed and vibrant.

This woman, this daughter-in-law, was utterly unbelievable.

Did she not see how twisted she appeared, sitting there, playing the role of the victim while everyone else bore the brunt of her disdain?

Ursula’s stomach churned with regret. How had she ever allowed her son to marry someone like this?

She was utterly useless. No insight, no backbone, no charm to speak of.

Maxwell felt an urge to defend his mother, but one glance at his grandmother’s furious visage silenced him. He wasn’t foolish enough to dig a deeper hole for himself.

“Alright, fine! I’m sorry! There, are you satisfied now?”

Emery’s voice cracked, the anger draining from her in a sudden rush, leaving her feeling hollow and deflated.

She didn’t care anymore. They could do whatever they wanted; she was done fighting, done trying to salvage something that felt irreparably broken.

For years, she had kept herself distanced from the family’s business dealings. She had never met with investors, never engaged with clients. Her role had been that of a glamorous housewife, ensuring the mansion sparkled and her family appeared flawless. That had always sufficed for her.

Taking a deep breath, she attempted to ground herself, to find a semblance of calm. Her pulse began to steady, and for a fleeting moment, she believed she could regain her composure.

“You’re not out of shape. You really should see a neurologist and get a proper examination.”

Amelia, who had been quietly observing, couldn’t ignore the signs any longer. She had noticed her mother’s hands trembling more than once, the telltale signs of something amiss.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Why would I go to a neurologist when I feel perfectly fine?” Emery snapped, her tone sharp and defensive, like a whip cracking in the air.

“I saw your eyelids droop. You looked weak. You keep dropping things over and over again. It could be early signs of muscle weakness.”

“You should get checked by a neurologist. Let a doctor confirm it. Whether you take that advice or not is entirely your choice.”

Amelia wasn’t one to meddle, but this was still the woman who had brought her into the world, the one who had given her life.

It was the least she could do, the final thread of gratitude she could offer.

“Are you actually cursing me now? You think I’m sick? I have yearly checkups! I know my body better than you ever will!”

Emery’s voice rose, nearly cracking under the weight of her fury and disbelief.

This daughter, who had once been her pride, had now transformed into her greatest punishment.

Spoiled, stubborn, and utterly impossible.