A False Heiress's Guide to Love and Power

As soon as Alessia disappeared into the backyard, Hamilton hurled his teacup across the room. It shattered, fragments scattering over the hardwood floor.

The staff all lowered their heads, eyes fixed on their shoes, barely daring to breathe. The butler pressed his lips into a thin line and gestured for a few of them to take down the painting and leave. No one dared dawdle–they quickly gathered their things and hurried out.

“That little brat has quite the attitude!” Hamilton slammed his hand against the table so hard that everything on it rattled.

“Please, sir, try to calm down.” The butler poured a fresh cup of tea and set it in front of Hamilton. After all these years of service, he knew Hamilton wouldn’t vent his anger on him.

“Didn’t the young master just enter a competition? If he wins a prize, his painting could be shown at Dale Reeves’s gallery. Then, if we get Dale Reeves to write a

letter of recommendation-”

The butler’s words trailed off, but Hamilton seemed to regain his composure.

“You’re right. Instead of relying on someone ungrateful, it’s better to… Prepare everything. Find out who’s on the selection panel this year. We need to make sure Tammie makes it to the final round. And look into what Dale Reeves likes.”

“Yes, sir.”

withdrew, leaving Hamilton alone

the Quincy family hadn’t produced a single true artist. Music, painting, literature–all of it remained

the contrary, he’d been so gifted and praised so much that it left him arrogant, unable to settle down and refine his craft. To maintain his reputation, he had to constantly mingle with the

disillusioned by all this, had chosen to retire to the countryside and

none of his children showed any real promise. Karen had a bit of talent, but

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Chapter 325

with training. He’d sent her off to live with his parents in the country, thinking it was pointless–only for her to

its former glory rested on Tammie’s shoulders. Hamilton spared no expense, sending him to the best art schools abroad,

became paralyzed by all the

on the verge of becoming a second Hamilton, and the Quincy fortune not what it once was, Hamilton had no choice but to

his best shot.

in Hamilton’s

“You think you can outplay me, little girl? You’re far

teacup onto the table, splashing tea over

he dialed a