A Fake Heiress’s Guide to Love and Power novel Chapter 3

As soon as Alessia finished speaking, the butler appeared, ushering in another man in a suit. Both were carrying suitcases in their hands. Ileana Tate's eyes locked onto those two cases with a barely concealed greed.

She recognized them instantly—they were the latest limited-edition designer luggage, the kind she could only dream of owning. The Morton family could never give her something like that, but for Alessia, having the whole collection was effortless.-

"Sir, ma'am, miss," the butler greeted.

"What's all this?" Yvonne asked.

"Just some knickknacks I picked up while traveling abroad," Alessia replied smoothly, cutting in before anyone else could speak.

"Well then, take them all with you," Yvonne said indifferently. To the Tates, these trinkets were hardly worth mentioning.

"Mom, it's not that I mind my sister reclaiming her belongings," Ileana piped up, her voice soft at first but growing louder, "It's just… my adoptive family's house is really small. There might not be enough space for all these things..."

She hesitated, then added, "I don't mean anything by it, I just worry my adoptive parents might not be happy. It's her first time coming home, and it's great that she's returning, but bringing so much stuff might leave a bad impression..."

Her clumsy performance made Yvonne frown, but Ileana didn't notice. She thought Yvonne was upset with Alessia.

Alessia smirked. "You don't need to worry about that. I'll handle it. Mr. and Mrs. Tate, thank you for raising me these seventeen years. I'm not ungrateful—I'll remember everything I owe you."

"That's good to hear," Scott said. "I'll have my assistant wire you a hundred thousand. That should keep you going for a while. After that, you're on your own."

Scott really knew how to handle things. Yvonne didn't object either. They never burned bridges and were careful not to make unnecessary enemies.

Alessia wasn't stupid; she'd be a fool to turn down free money. These days, every cent counted.

Brushing aside her thoughts, Alessia stood up. "Well, I won't keep the Tate family from enjoying their reunion."

No drama, no arguments—everything had gone surprisingly smoothly.

Butler Dawson found himself admiring Alessia all over again—no, Alessia Morton now. She was sharp enough to realize the situation was decided, so she ended things cleanly, avoiding any embarrassment for either side, and even managed to come out ahead.

"Good luck, Miss," Dawson said as he and Mae stood by the front door, their expressions complicated.

Alessia offered a carefree wave, then turned and left the home she'd lived in for seventeen years, carrying only a single small suitcase—the one she'd brought back from abroad.

Strangely enough, she felt no real attachment to this place. Despite seventeen years here, Alessia's belongings were few, as if she'd always known she didn't quite belong.