A Fake Heiress’s Guide to Love and Power novel Chapter 182

Butler Dawson maintained the same dignified composure that one might expect from an English butler of a bygone era, even in the face of Ileana’s accusations.

“Miss Ileana, if I were you, I’d pretend nothing ever happened. Don’t you see by now? I’m not the one who refused to give you Mr. Tate’s number. Nor was I the one who let Miss Morton in. My loyalty lies with the Tate family, with Mr. Tate, and with his sons. But you, Miss, are not among them.”

It hadn’t been Dawson’s decision to withhold the phone number–that was Scott’s explicit order. After Ileana’s disastrous scene at the family welcome dinner, her value in Scott’s eyes had plummeted. No family of stature would tolerate a daughter–in–law who lost her composure in public over some minor slight, embarrassing them in front of their guests.

As for letting Alessia into the house–that was entirely Max’s doing. Alessia’s influence at home stemmed mostly from Max’s support.

Ileana, by contrast, was simply ignored. She could command the other staff, but when it came to Dawson–the man who managed every detail of the Tate

household–she had no leverage whatsoever.

“It’s getting late. I suggest you get some rest. I’ll be on my way. As for the lock, I’m afraid you’ll have to manage for tonight. I’ll have someone replace it for you in the

morning.”

With that, Dawson turned and left. The door closed softly behind him, but Ileana’s shrill scream pierced the quiet, grating on the nerves. Glass shattered and things crashed to the floor, but Dawson didn’t so much as glance back. He simply descended the stairs, leaving the chaos behind.

By dawn, the storm of the night had passed.

Alessia, ever efficient, had managed to resolve Ivan’s situation before morning. The so–called “assessment” was little more than an excuse to tailor a curriculum to Ivan’s needs; even if he didn’t ace it, it wouldn’t delay his admission.

To be thorough, Alessia took the day off and personally accompanied Ivan to Berlington Elementary. To her surprise, the principal and two teachers were waiting

at the entrance.

“Mr. Linden, it’s been a while,” Alessia said, gently squeezing Ivan’s hand–a silent reassurance that seemed to steady him.

1/2

11:55

Lessie! I was starting to think you’d never call Charlie Linden, Just shy of fifty bur looking a decade younger, greeted her with a broad, genuine smile.

“I’ve been briefed on the situation, so I didn’t bother with any extra staff. Just as you asked, I brought York’s homeroom teacher and the assessment supervisor.

“Thank you so much,” Alessia replied politely, keeping a touch of distance in her tone. Charlie, however, was as warm as ever.

“Oh, don’t thank me! I’m still racking my brains over how to repay you. You’re so young, so talented, and yet never arrogant. Are you sure you won’t consider my son? He’s only five years older than you–not exactly ancient! Looks and brains to match, too.”

Alessia stifled a sigh. “Mr. Linden, I’m only seventeen. I haven’t even graduated high school yet.”

“Which is exactly why you should strike while the Iron’s hot! Someone as

outstanding as you, once you’re in college, you’ll have suitors lined up from here to Rome. Wouldn’t you at least let my lazy son cut the line?”

“If you keep this up, I’m leaving. Let’s talk about Ivan’s admission, shall we?” Alessia pretended to step away, knowing persuasion was pointless.

“No, no, don’t go! It’s rare to have you reach out to me.” Charlie quickly caught her arm, not wanting to let her escape.

The two teachers exchanged glances, surprised to see their normally stern. principal acting so animated. They couldn’t help but wonder who this girl really

was.

“This is Ivan, the student you mentioned?” Charlie asked, recovering his composure in an instant. “I’ve

cleared his throat all the details. Let’s head inside and talk in the office.” He

all business once more.