A False Heiress's Guide to Love and Power

“Sir, Miss Ileana is back.”

“Send her in–now!” Even with the door closed, Scott’s fury was impossible to miss. Ileana flinched, nerves trembling as she pushed the study door open. She had barely stepped inside when something heavy hurtled her way–a glass ashtray came flying, striking her shoulder with a sickening thud.

She cried out in pain, tears springing to her eyes.

The butler, unfazed, quietly shut the door behind her and gestured for one of the maids to pick up the shattered ashtray from the hallway.

Inside, the study reeked of smoke. Paperwork and folders were scattered in disarray across the floor. Ileana stood shaking, eyes lowered, not daring to meet Scott’s gaze.

“Ileana, did my warning just go in one ear and out the other?” Scott’s voice made

her tremble even harder.

“I–I didn’t…” she stammered, her protest so small and pitiful it only made Scott angrier.

“Didn’t you?” he snapped, voice rising. “You left our guest alone in the dining room, and you dared to give Raleigh attitude?”

“Are

just tired of having too much money,

her purse, as though afraid Scott might snatch her bank cards away right then

you do anything else? The only thing you’re good for now is keeping Raleigh happy, so

anger only grew as he looked at his

over that investment willingly, then you can pack your bags and leave the

up, disbelief etched across her face. In this moment, Scott was nothing but a cold–blooded businessman. Nothing but profit interested him–not even his own

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Chapter 300

your

Scott still called her “Alessia,” not because he accepted her, but because he simply couldn’t be bothered to care what she called

Ileana misunderstood, her

Alessia, Alessia! She goes by Alessia now, not Alessia!”

be Tate or Morton, all because I allow it. But you–do you even deserve to be a Morton