A False Heiress's Guide to Love and Power

It was as if the air had turned to stone, freezing them both in place.

Ivan’s lower lip trembled, caught between tears and stubborn silence. York, on the other hand, began to panic. He was used to pulling pranks on kids older than himself–never on someone his own age, let alone younger. This was supposed to be harmless fun, just a bit of mischief to pass the time. He had never meant for things to get so out of hand.

Swallowing hard, York scrambled to gather the scattered books, stacking them into a neat pile before thrusting them into Ivan’s arms. When Ivan didn’t take them, York grabbed Ivan’s hand and pressed the books into his palm.

“I didn’t mean to, honestly! Don’t cry, okay? I’ll buy you a new one. Or terr.ew ones! Or a hundred if you want! Please, I swear I wasn’t trying to be mean–just don’t cry.”

York looked ready to burst into tears himself. “If it’s really that bad, then go ahead. and cry, but you can’t tell Alessia, alright? If she finds out, she’ll wipe my account for sure.”

He remembered, with a shudder, the last time he’d picked on someone his own age. Alessia had deleted every last one of his game accounts without so much as a warning, and dragged him by the ear to apologize in person. He’d learned his lesson–never again had he bullied anyone younger than or as young as himself.

Now, seeing Ivan so silent, York was overwhelmed with regret. Even Rex, their golden retriever, circled Ivan once before nudging him gently with his nose.

That little gesture finally got a reaction. Ivan stood up, put the books carefully back on the shelf, and–without a word or a tear–sat back down at his easel. He picked up his paintbrush. The single yellow flower he’d painted was now being smeared over with black, the whole canvas dissolving into a wild, messy blur.

York watched, growing more anxious by the second. He reached out to touch Ivan’s arm, but his finger caught the edge of a line, dragging it out of place.

rimmed red but

away. “Don’t be mad, okay? I really didn’t mean to. It’s just a notebook–tomorrow

ignored him, and York bit his lip, clearly

an enormous concession.

two

1/2

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never let

if understanding, Rex nudged Ivan’s

brush, sending another wild streak

the noise from the kitchen, poked her head out and

you

The words just wouldn’t

had raised five children of her own, and