A Fake Heiress’s Guide to Love and Power novel Chapter 415

Chapter 415

The office returned to its quiet, professional calm. Only then did Bacchus raise his hands and clap, slow and deliberate.

“What a performance. Rather have an outsider break his grandson’s legs than apologize–should I call that backbone, or just pure ruthlessness?”

Max shot him a look and returned to his desk. Alessia, legs crossed, was busy tapping away on her phone.

“If Hamilton weren’t ruthless, there’s no way he could keep the Quincy family afloat,” Alessia replied without looking up, snapping her phone shut.

“He’s trained a team of ghost artists to prop up his own persona, planned for his grandson to follow the same path just to keep the family name alive. At this point, he’s obsessed. He’s spent most of his life building this artist’s reputation, and now it’s become his own prison. He can’t let go of the fame and prestige. The so–called ‘third option‘ just shows his true colors.”

Bacchus picked up where Alessia left off. “So in the end, the family’s reputation matters more to him than his own grandson.”

!

Alessia nodded and glanced at Max. “Everything’s arranged. The video from that day will be posted online too. Anything else we need to cover?” When it came to the internet, Alessia’s connections in the entertainment industry far outstripped Max’s. She knew exactly how to steer public opinion and achieve the outcome she wanted.

Tammie’s little stunt that day–by sheer luck or fate–had all been captured by Alessia. And Tammie’s arrogance and malice were so blatant, they didn’t even need to hunt down extra witnesses.

Everyone present that day was witness enough,

“That’s all. Well done,” Max said.

1/3 Hamilton glanced at Alessia, and for a split second, he felt ancient–like his ears had betrayed him.

Bacchus watched the scene unfold, silently applauding in his mind.

*Of all the people to provoke, you just had to pick these two little devils who never forget a grudge.* Bacchus shook his head, lighting an imaginary candle for Hamilton’s doomed soul.

“Don’t push your luck!” Hamilton suddenly shot to his feet, pointing a trembling finger at the siblings. He looked so unsteady that Bacchus half–expected him to collapse and fake an injury right then and there.

“Hamilton, actions have consequences,” Max replied calmly, not rising from his seat. “If you refuse to accept that, you’re only making things harder for everyone.”

Despite Hamilton’s outburst, the siblings sat unfazed, not budging an inch. There was no sign of retreat or hesitation.

“How much do you want? Name your price!” Hamilton stared at Max, defeat flickering in his eyes.

Hamilton, I’m not sure you realize,” Alessia interjected, arching her brow as if she’d just heard a joke, “but my brother and I run a company that makes more in a day than the Quincy family does in a month.”

“Then what do you want?” Hamilton snapped, his voice strained.

“It’s simple. An apology,” Max said, his tone suddenly cold. The siblings‘ smiles faded, replaced by a palpable sense of authority.

Hamilton’s face darkened, but he didn’t immediately refuse–not like at the beginning. He was weighing his options, desperate for some way

out.

If this document went public, all his past misdeeds would be dragged into the light, and the Quincy family would become a laughingstock. But if Tammie apologized, they’d lose access to the top artists, and the

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family’s future would be doomed.

Every path was blocked. Hamilton clenched his jaw, finally realizing he had underestimated these two.

“Tammie can apologize,” he muttered, “but only in private.”

“Hamilton, are you confused about something?” Max spoke, his hand resting casually on his knee, predatory and calm, like a hawk eyeing its prey. “You don’t have any bargaining chips left.”

“But I’ll give you a third option.”

“What is it?” Hamilton barked, hope flickering.

“It’s simple. I’ll release this document online and let the public judge you.” Max tossed the folder onto the table in front of Hamilton, his expression as cold as ice–gone was the earlier veneer of politeness. His patience had clearly run out.

“Wait! I choose the second option! The second!” Hamilton’s composure cracked as he shot to his feet, panic overriding his pride.

Bacchus couldn’t hide his grin; he was glad he’d stayed–he wouldn’t have missed this showdown for the world.

“Too late,” Max replied, rising to his feet with chilling calm. “Once I offered the third option, your chance to choose ended.”

“Bacchus, please show Mr. Quincy out.”

“Of course.” Bacchus spun his chair around and dialed the phone.

Within moments, the assistant arrived.

“Mr. Quincy, this way please.”

“Max, don’t think you can walk all over me!” Hamilton sputtered, raising his cane, but Max pressed it down with ease.

The pressure seemed light, but Hamilton found he couldn’t move.

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“You still don’t get it, do you, Hamilton?” Max leaned in, whispering into his ear. “You never had a choice. Not from the very beginning.”

Hamilton’s eyes widened in shock, finally understanding that this so–called negotiation had always been a one–way street.

“See him out,” Max said coldly, not a trace of pity in his voice.

Hamilton stared, stunned and speechless, as the assistant led him away. Max watched without the slightest hint of sympathy.

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Despite running two companies from the shadows, Alessia couldn’t help but curl her lips into a small, pleased smile at Max’s praise.

“But if you never intended to give him a real choice, why bother with all the theatrics? Why not just go public from the start?” Bacchus asked.

“Because it’s more fun this way,” Alessia and Max answered in unison.

Their answer was so matter–of–fact it sent a shiver down Bacchus’s spine. He was suddenly grateful, yet again, that he was on their side. If not, he wouldn’t even know how he’d die.

“Think about it. This morning, we paid him a visit. He wouldn’t even let us in. Result? Now he has to swallow his pride and show up, knowing full

well we’re about to humiliate him.”

Alessia folded her arms across her chest. She and Max hadn’t planned

this out in advance, but they understood each other instantly.

“Then, we set up two choices for him, and just as he’s dithering, we hit him with a fatal third option. Whichever he picks, his true nature is exposed for everyone to see.”

Max’s voice was cool and pleasant, but it sent a chill straight down Bacchus’s spine.

“And lastly, we let him know he’s been played. There was only ever one right answer–option C.”

Max and Alessia bumped fists, speaking in perfect tandem, leaving Bacchus shaking his head and applauding all over again.

“But the key is, after he realizes he’s been played, he’ll have to live with the consequences of his own choice… Brutal. Absolutely brutal!”

He paused, bracing himself on the edge of the desk.

“But by telling him now, aren’t you giving him time to prepare, to mount some kind of defense? Even a dying lion can still roar. The Quincy family once had its glory days–surely some of the press will help him save face? Maybe hire a PR firm for damage control…”

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Alessia shook her head. “Everyone has their specialty. A washed–up family like his can’t compete with a media powerhouse whose interests are deeply tied to these outlets. Every major paper knows which side to take. As for those little tabloid rags–they’re not even worth our

attention.”