A False Heiress's Guide to Love and Power

I have a little sister now. Unlike the other newborns I’ve seen–wrinkled, red–faced, and frankly a bit ugly–she’s actually cute. The prettiest baby I’ve ever laid eyes on.

That’s what Max wrote in his journal on the day Alessia was born.

“What’s her name?” he asked, leaning over the crib, wiggling his finger in front of the swaddled infant.

“Your dad said she was born at night, so he picked Alessia,” someone replied.

Max snorted. “That’s a pretty half–hearted name,” he muttered under his breath.

Yvonne Sullivan was discharged from the hospital in less than three days, and during that time, Scott only dropped by out of obligation—a quick visit, a glance, and that was it. He didn’t spare Alessia a second look. After checking in on Yvonne’s condition, he made his excuses about work and left in a hurry..

Once back home, Yvonne didn’t linger on motherly duties. Not even a week into her recovery, she was already trailing after Scott from meeting to meeting, hustling for business.

So in that cramped, rundown apartment, there was just a little boy, not yet old enough for grade school, and a newborn who could do nothing but gurgle and wail.

It wasn’t as if Scott and Yvonne had entirely forgotten about their children. At least they left some cash with the neighbor–a woman who’d just had a baby herself–to look in on the kids from time to time.

07:45

time, It was just the two of them alone in

knocked on the door, holding

daughter, a high

it was always Marian who brought Max his meals. After the baby arrived, her mother, needing to nurse

over with food for both

sis,” Max greeted

was tough, though–he fought back every time, and even when their parents came to complain, he never

mess with him. Still, the neighbors looked at Max with a mix

Marian was always kind. She spoke softly, tended his bruises when he came home scraped up, and on

remembered every kindness. He was always polite to Marian,

see you a

Max was rarely home–he’d vanish for hours, only coming back to grab a bite before disappearing again. No one really knew

street. It was a shabby spot, filled with old paperbacks and rarely any customers. The owner, an old man, never chased Max off, letting him curl up quietly in a corner with a book, even though he

ever since Alessia was born, he’d barely

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