A False Heiress's Guide to Love and Power

Chapter 11

“Dad.” Alessia glanced up at the sound of footsteps. Brendan stepped inside, a smile on his face, not a trace left of the lost look he’d worn earlier. He changed his shoes at the door as if nothing had happened.

“How’d you sleep, Lessie?”

“Pretty well. Mom and I went grocery shopping this morning–it was actually kind of fun.”

Four sets of plates and forks lay set out on the table. Brendan blinked rapidly. He bent to set his briefcase on the floor, head bowed, and by the time he straightened up, any trace of emotion had vanished from his face.

“You’re back. Go wash up, dinner’s almost ready. The fish is fresh today–I just need to finish one last dish.” Karen bustled around the kitchen, smiling as usual.

“I’ll give you a hand,” Brendan said, and slipped into the bathroom to wash up.

They both knew the truth, but neither said a word. This family had been through enough; what they needed now was to support each other, not to point fingers. Each one of them was trying to make things better–that was enough.

“Lessie, would you call Ivan for dinner?” Karen wiped her hands on her apron and set the pot down on the table.

for Ivan’s room. Out of courtesy, she knocked first, waiting a few seconds. When no

locked. The door swung open, and she paused in surprise

one corner. Ivan sat curled up on the floor, legs drawn to his chest, focused intently on a drawing

Unlike her own bright, airy room, Ivan’s was cramped–barely enough space for a double bed. The only small window was blocked by the

low table and an easel stacked with books, a few nearly–empty jars of paint strewn

lips together, Alessia quietly crossed the room and crouched

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work that Alessia simply watched in silence, waiting as he

looked, the deeper her

color daring yet harmonious. But every piece seemed to radiate a kind of heaviness. No matter how bright the paints, Ivan’s brush always turned them into swirling, endless black holes–so much so that just

say she had an eye for beauty but no technical skill. She could appreciate color and

his drawing. He put down his brush, ready to clean up, but

reached