A Fake Heiress’s Guide to Love and Power novel Chapter 11

"Dad." Alessia glanced up at the sound of footsteps. Brendan stepped inside, a smile on his face, not a trace left of the lost look he'd worn earlier. He changed his shoes at the door as if nothing had happened.

"How'd you sleep, Lessie?"

"Pretty well. Mom and I went grocery shopping this morning—it was actually kind of fun."

Four sets of plates and forks lay set out on the table. Brendan blinked rapidly. He bent to set his briefcase on the floor, head bowed, and by the time he straightened up, any trace of emotion had vanished from his face.

"You're back. Go wash up, dinner's almost ready. The fish is fresh today—I just need to finish one last dish." Karen bustled around the kitchen, smiling as usual.

"I'll give you a hand," Brendan said, and slipped into the bathroom to wash up.

They both knew the truth, but neither said a word. This family had been through enough; what they needed now was to support each other, not to point fingers. Each one of them was trying to make things better—that was enough.

"Lessie, would you call Ivan for dinner?" Karen wiped her hands on her apron and set the pot down on the table.

Alessia nodded and headed for Ivan's room. Out of courtesy, she knocked first, waiting a few seconds. When no answer came, she tried the doorknob.

It wasn't locked. The door swung open, and she paused in surprise for a moment before collecting herself.

The room was pitch-dark, except for a small desk lamp illuminating one corner. Ivan sat curled up on the floor, legs drawn to his chest, focused intently on a drawing in the pool of light.

Just a single door separated two different worlds: outside, it was noon; inside, it felt like midnight. Unlike her own bright, airy room, Ivan's was cramped—barely enough space for a double bed. The only small window was blocked by the neighboring building, so sunlight never reached inside.

Still, Ivan had carved out a little space for himself—a low table and an easel stacked with books, a few nearly-empty jars of paint strewn beneath.

Ivan stayed silent. Alessia didn't mind, and left the room. Less than a minute later, Ivan followed her out.

"Eat up, both of you. You're still growing—and you, mister, you're the head of the family now. You need your strength." Karen busied herself piling food onto the others' plates, barely serving herself a scrap of meat.

"You're the one running around all day. You should eat more," Brendan said. Since their bankruptcy, the two of them had only grown closer, not farther apart.

Alessia paused with her fork halfway to her mouth, looking thoughtfully at Karen.

"Mom, have you ever thought about starting a little business? Maybe a food stand?"

"Oh, Lessie, you always know how to make me smile!" Karen thought Alessia was complimenting her cooking and beamed, but Brendan caught the seriousness in Alessia's tone—eight parts earnest, two parts testing the waters.