Maxwell POVI’ve grown used to my mother’s voice—sharp, polished, heavy with expectation. It used to slice me open when I was younger, when I was desperate to impress her, to earn even a flicker of approval. But somewhere along the line—somewhere after Amelia, after the lies, after the funeral, after the silence in my chest grew louder—I stopped reacting. The nagging, the insults disguised as concern, the disappointment she wore like jewelry… none of it pierced anymore. It just washed over me like rain on stone.I know she blames me. For the company. For the chaos. For the decline. For the shame. And maybe she’s right. Maybe I am everything the headlines say. Careless. Lost. Unfit to lead. But the truth is simpler than anyone wants to admit: I’m tired. Tired in a way that no sleep, no therapy, no empire could fix.When Amelia died, something in me simply shut down. And I didn’t fight it. I let it happen. I let myself sink. Maybe I wanted the world to move on without me. Maybe I wanted
Last Updated : 2025-12-06
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