Karma Doesn’t Sleep: The Revenge Queen Rises novel Chapter 47

His real meaning was always obvious: clever women just weren’t his type.

So, Amelia had learned to play dumb, keeping her intelligence hidden for years, all for Clive’s approval.

Pathetic.

Sometimes, she almost had to laugh at herself for being so foolish. Clive didn’t love her—not really. He loved the version of Amelia who did whatever he wanted, the perfect little helper. That was all she’d ever been to him.

Timmy didn’t agree with his grandmother, but he couldn’t think of anything to say back. He just scratched his head and glanced at Amelia, who was standing quietly nearby. At least she doesn’t understand what was said, he thought. She won’t be upset.

Feeling relieved, Timmy ran off to find Penny.

Penny had just finished a call with Caroline outside. Knowing Caroline would be home soon, she happily took her brother’s hand, and together they headed for the playroom.

“Mom, I want to go see Grandma,” Amelia said, stopping in front of Mrs. Salmeron. “If Clive comes back early, could you tell him to meet me there?”

Mrs. Salmeron called her back. “Wait a second.”

Amelia didn’t believe for a moment that Mrs. Salmeron was worried about her getting lost or hurt. She waited calmly for whatever came next.

“Stay over tonight,” Mrs. Salmeron said, almost like she was offering a favor.

Amelia frowned in confusion. “Is something wrong, Mom?”

“My neck and shoulders have been so stiff lately,” Mrs. Salmeron sighed, rubbing her shoulder. “I’ve tried a bunch of massage therapists, but none of them are as good as you. When you’re back from seeing Grandma, give me a massage like you used to. It doesn't have to be long—just a couple of hours. Oh, and Caroline’s back has been bothering her too, she’s been working too much. Help her relax a bit? You can just stay here tonight.”

Four hours, Amelia thought—two for Mrs. Salmeron, two for Caroline. Her hands would be useless by morning.

It was always like this when she came to the Salmeron estate. Mrs. Salmeron would order her around, wanting massages for everyone, acupuncture for Klaus, herbal sachets for the house. By the end of the day, Amelia would be so tired she could barely stand straight.

Her “reward” was always whatever cold leftovers were in the kitchen, or maybe the scraps of some fancy dessert—always handed to her with a smile, pretending it was some special treat.

“Mom,” she said—in perfect French.

Mrs. Salmeron’s eyes flew wide open, like she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. But then Amelia spoke again, her voice clear and fluent in French:

“Whether I’m useless or not isn’t for you to decide. And no matter what you think, I am Penny and Timmy’s mother. No one can change that.”

With that, Amelia turned, tapped her cane, and left.

Mrs. Salmeron stood there, stunned.

When did she learn French? Has she understood everything I’ve ever said? Mrs. Salmeron’s face went red, then pale, furious and embarrassed.

“So all these years, she’s just been pretending not to understand me!” Mrs. Salmeron fumed, her voice shaking with anger. “That little brat—she thinks she can fool me? Just wait. I’ll make sure my son kicks her out one day!”