Chapter 167 The Weight of Legacy

Chapter 167 The Weight of Legacy
Alexander's POV

I watched Amelia leave, her spine straight and shoulders squared despite everything my mother had just put her through. That quiet dignity, that refusal to be broken—it was one of the countless reasons why she'd become essential to me.

When the door closed behind her, I turned to face my mother. Rage coiled inside me like a serpent ready to strike, but I forced myself to remain composed. The maid was still whimpering, clutching her bleeding leg where the porcelain had cut her.

"Get medical attention," I ordered without looking at her. "Now."

The girl scurried away, leaving me alone with the woman who'd raised me—the woman who'd just attacked my mate.

"What the hell were you thinking?" I demanded, my voice dangerously low.

Mother straightened her designer blouse, her hands trembling slightly despite her attempt at composure. "Alexander, that girl is manipulating you. I was merely—"

"Trying to pay her off? Throwing things at her?" I closed the distance between us in two strides. "In my home?"

"Please, sit down." She gestured toward the dining room. "We need to discuss this rationally."

I followed her, not because I wanted to, but because this conversation needed to happen somewhere staff wouldn't witness it. The legacy of the Westbrook name demanded at least that much discretion.

Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting prisms across my villa's modern interior. Unlike the ancestral Westbrook Estate, this space was mine alone—free from tradition and history.

Ten minutes later, I sat across from her at the massive mahogany table, my food untouched as she continued her interrogation.

"Is it true you'd chosen her to be your mate?" Mother asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

I remained silent, my jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. The question didn't deserve an answer.

Finally, I raised my eyes to meet hers. The cold fury in my gaze made her look away instantly.

"You know, when I was carrying you," she said, changing tactics, "the elders said there was something different. The pain was... extraordinary." She placed her fork down carefully. "By the third month, the doctors suggested termination. They feared I wouldn't survive."

I'd heard this story countless times, though I suspected each retelling grew more dramatic.

"But I refused," she continued, her voice softening with practiced precision. "By the sixth month, the pack's seer came to us with a prophecy—that I carried the Alpha who would elevate Shadow Kingdom to unprecedented heights."

The birth story again. The prophecy. The expectations that had been heaped on me from before I could even walk. My entire existence defined by words spoken before I took my first breath. Sometimes I wondered who I might have become without that prophecy hanging over me like a guillotine blade.

"When you were born, the entire pack celebrated for three days." Her eyes glazed with reminiscence. "And you didn't disappoint, did you? When you took over, you crushed the Northern Alliance in a single night when they tried to encroach on our territory."

That night. Blood on snow. The weight of leadership forcing me to become someone I hardly recognized. I still remembered the metallic scent of blood hanging in the frigid air, the sound of bones breaking under my command. Twenty-three wolves had died that night.

I remembered each of their faces, their names, the way their eyes dimmed as life left them. The Northern Alliance had never threatened our borders again, but the price had been steep—not in lives, but in what it had cost my soul.

"Since then, even hearing your name makes other Alphas tremble," she said, pride evident in her voice. "And in business? You've made Shadow Kingdom the wealthiest pack in the country."

The pride in her voice was unmistakable, but it rang hollow. My accomplishments weren't my own—they were checkboxes on a prophecy list, expectations fulfilled. The wealth I'd accumulated, the respect I'd commanded, the fear I'd instilled—all part of a path laid out before I had a choice in the matter. Until Amelia. She was the first decision that felt truly mine.

I cut her off. "You know the answer to your question, Mother."

"What?"

"About Amelia. You know my choice."

Her face hardened. "I don't understand what you see in that Omega girl."

"What happened between you two?" I countered. "Why would you throw something at her? And the check?"

"I did no such thing," she lied smoothly.

"I saw the torn pieces myself." My patience was wearing dangerously thin. "I know exactly what you did."

"I merely explained that she isn't worthy of you," Mother insisted, her voice rising slightly. "She's not the caliber of woman who should stand beside the Head Alpha of Shadow Kingdom."

I fell silent, my anger so intense it had circled back around to a strange, cold calm. The teacup incident was far from her first transgression against Amelia. The Luna Festival, the family dinner, and now this—a direct attack in my own home.

"You've done enough," I finally said. "Stay out of our relationship. Focus on your health instead."

I stood, having lost what little appetite I'd brought to the table.

"You're leaving?" she asked, surprised. "We haven't finished discussing this."

"There's nothing to discuss."

"Your father has been calling you," she said, changing subjects abruptly. "Why haven't you answered?"

"I've been busy."

She opened her mouth to say something else, but instead clutched at her chest suddenly, a gasp of pain escaping her lips as she collapsed from her chair.

I moved instantly, catching her before she hit the floor and easing her onto the nearby sofa. "Mother!"

The household staff rushed in, alerted by the commotion. Iris brought water while maids called for the doctor.

"Leave us," Mother managed to say, waving weakly at Iris.

When we were alone, I knelt beside her. "This is exactly why you need to stop being so stubborn about your treatment."

"I'm looking into experimental options," I continued, my voice softening despite my anger. "There are specialists in Europe who've had success with cases like yours."

She shook her head. "We both know I have a few years at most." She gripped my hand with surprising strength. "That's why I need to see you married, with children. I need to know the pack's future is secure before I go."

"Mother—"

"Why are you so cold?" she demanded, tears forming in her eyes. "Can't you see I'm dying? That I want to ensure our legacy continues?"

I pulled my hand away. "This isn't about my future or the pack's. It's about control."

"You've developed feelings for someone who shouldn't have them," she accused. "That Omega girl."

"Her name is Amelia."

"She'll never understand what it means to be mated to a Head Alpha," Mother insisted. "The responsibilities, the expectations. You need someone who was raised in our world."

I stood, putting distance between us. "I'm not having this conversation."

"You must think about the future of our pack," she called after me as I moved toward the door. "An Alpha cannot be without heirs. A Head Alpha even less so."