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.”

Hamilton alone

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

talent–on 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 right circles, buying other people’s works and passing them off

chosen to retire to the countryside

promise. Karen had a bit of talent, but her health

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Chapter 325

country, thinking it was pointless–only for her to grow up healthy, but lose

the Quincy family could reclaim its former glory rested on Tammie’s shoulders.

paralyzed by all

verge of becoming a second Hamilton, and the Quincy fortune not what it once

his best shot.

burned in

can outplay me, little girl? You’re

thudded his teacup onto the table, splashing tea over the

dialed