A Fake Heiress’s Guide to Love and Power novel Chapter 10

A warm look glimmered in Karen's eyes. "The Mortons raised you well. You've had a rough time with us, haven't you?"

Alessia shook her head but didn't mention anything about her life with the Mortons. In truth, the Mortons were either cold or downright crazy; if she'd turned out halfway normal, it was thanks to someone else's influence entirely.

By the time they got home, Karen was already bustling in the kitchen, getting lunch ready. Alessia sank into a chair and started replying to her messages.

"Miss Morton, have you finally finished up your endless paperwork?" The message popped up at ten in the morning—clearly the sender knew her schedule all too well.

"You mocking me?" Alessia's fingers flew over the screen. She hit send at eleven-thirty, a good hour and a half later, but the reply came back instantly.

"Wouldn't dare." Cole Whitley sent a groveling animated sticker.

Alessia smirked and shot back a playful punch emoji.

"So, I guess you're living the good life? Otherwise, you wouldn't have tossed two suitcases at my place and then ghosted me."

She was used to Cole's nonsense and responded with a random sticker, not bothering to engage.

"When are you coming by?" he texted again, quick as ever.

"I'll find a time in the next couple of days."

"How about I get you a new place?"

She rolled her eyes and sent an exasperated emoji, ignoring Cole's sudden burst of insanity. Pushing her phone aside, she wandered into the kitchen, where Karen handed her a piece of roast beef as a little treat. Alessia's delighted grin earned her an extra slice.

"Mom, you should open a restaurant. You'd put the five-star chefs out of business."

"You sweet talker. Now, go set the table—it's almost ready." Karen ruffled her hair, clearly not taking her daughter's comment seriously.

Alessia just arched an eyebrow and obediently grabbed the plates and silverware.

Meanwhile, in a sleek downtown office, a young man in a stiff, ill-fitting suit sat at his desk. He twirled a pen absently in one hand, phone in the other, brow furrowed in thought.

A knock sounded at the door. "Come in," Cole said, barely glancing up, maintaining his pensive pose.

"Larkin, you're twenty-five and still single. Maybe it's time to reflect on your life," Cole said, putting on his best mock-sage expression.

"You're single too, sir." Larkin folded his hands in front of him, all respectful patience.

"I'm too young to be dating. But you—if you wait any longer, you'll be late to the party."

With that, Larkin fell silent. Cole, satisfied with himself, raised an eyebrow in triumph.

"All right, I'll review the proposal this afternoon."

"Understood."

"Oh, and from now on, call her Miss Morton."

"Of course." Larkin didn't ask questions that weren't his business. That was the mark of a true professional—and the best assistant Cole could ask for.

As Cole set his phone aside and turned to work, Alessia was just setting down the silverware when Brendan walked in the door.