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.

Ivan’s room. Out of courtesy, she knocked first, waiting

and she

desk lamp illuminating one corner. Ivan sat curled up on the

separated two different worlds: outside, it was noon; inside, it felt like midnight. Unlike her own bright, airy room, Ivan’s was cramped–barely enough

Ivan had carved out a little space for himself–a low table and an easel stacked with books,

crossed the room and crouched next

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work that Alessia simply watched in silence, waiting as he put the finishing touches on

looked, the

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 looking at them made

her teacher used to say she had an eye for beauty but no technical skill. She could appreciate color and composition, but every time she tried to draw, her figures came out as crude stickmen.

to clean up, but as he turned,

reflexes saved the moment–Alessia reached out and steadied him before