A False Heiress's Guide to Love and Power

“What’s wrong, Mom?” Alessia asked, seeing how flustered Karen looked. She half–expected something serious had happened.

“Here, gifts. I was going to give them to you tonight, but in case you two get back late, I thought I’d hand them over now.” Karen pressed a small box into each of their hands.

“Thanks, Mom.” Alessia accepted hers without fuss, smiling warmly.

Cole, on the other hand, stood there awkwardly, gift in hand, unsure what to do.

“What’s got you frozen?” Karen teased, glancing at Alessia. Alessia just nudged Cole’s sleeve, encouraging him.

“I just didn’t expect you’d have one for me too. Thank you, Mrs. Morton.” Cole’s words were polite, but a touch uneasy.

For a moment, he was transported back to childhood–after every holiday meal, his parents would hand out gifts and pocket money.

Back then, he and his siblings didn’t care much about money. What mattered was that these were gifts from their parents.

“What are you saying? Aren’t you one of the kids?” Karen patted his arm, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Exactly. When have you ever seen a kid without a present, or a bit of pocket money?” Brendan wandered over, having just finished the dishes.

“With your gifts in hand, may the new year bring you safety and happiness.” Karen’s smile was warm, her blessing wrapping around the two of them like a soft shawl.

box, then smiled and thanked the Mortons. Alessia watched his hand, studying his profile–she could

they arrived at the restaurant, night had already fallen. Winter days were short, and outside, darkness

darted in and out of the shadows, waving sparklers. Red lanterns–now replaced by strings of fairy lights–hung

g a cheery glow.

Cole said, steadying a little boy who

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boy mumbled a quick thanks, then dashed off as his friends called his name, disappearing into the end

we’d still pretend not to hear. Ms. June always said Mr. Whitley was playing hide–and–seek with us–made us hide for a whole hour just to see if he’d

grinned, tucking Alessia’s hand inside his coat pocket to keep her

the yard getting a lecture from Dad for half an hour, only for Mom to swoop in,

“You almost led me

scratched his nose sheepishly, lips

known the way home; he’d nearly gotten them lost. In the end, it was Alessia–who’d

for a decade. Every New Year’s, she’d bring it up. They reached the house, the

“Happy New Year, Grandpa!”

Lessie.” Six

about, directing Six as they moved a table indoors. When he saw them, he abandoned the table and hobbled over, leaning on