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

the two of

ready.” Marian knocked on the door,

daughter, a high school

brought Max his meals. After the baby

send Marian over with

sis,” Max

the target of the neighborhood kids‘ mischief. He was tough, though–he fought back every time, and even when their parents came to complain, he

Still, the neighbors looked at Max with

spoke softly, tended his bruises when he came home scraped up, and on weekends, she’d help him with his reading and

kindness. He was always polite to Marian, never

born, I see you

were gone, Max was rarely home–he’d vanish for hours, only coming back to grab a bite before

the next 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,

ever since Alessia was born, he’d barely

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