She was quietly sobbing, the picture of someone who’d just suffered the world’s greatest injustice. In any ordinary family, everyone would be fussing over her, trying to soothe her hurt feelings, desperate to make up for all the years she’d


    supposedly missed out on.


    But this was the Tate family.


    The Tates‘ faces were utterly unmoved as Ileana Morton put on her little one–woman show. Not a flicker of sympathy, not a word offort.


    After seventeen years living among the Tates, Alessia’s temperament had inevitably picked up some of their coldness. Watching Ileana’s delicate, pitiful act, Alessia found her interest fading fast. In fact, after a long journey, the faint sound of those sniffles was starting to get on her nerves.


    “Dad. Mom.” Alessia withdrew her gaze.


    “Sit down,” Scott Tate said. Alessia obeyed, slipping into a chair just as Mae appeared with a tray, setting down a cup of tea in front of her.


    Alessia took a delicate sip. The fragrance of ck tea bloomed on her tongue, soothing her nerves and smoothing some of the tension from her shoulders.


    “This must be… my sister, right?” Ileana finally dropped the act when no one paid her any attention. In an instant, she switched tactics: shoulders slumping,shes fluttering with wounded innocence. She was quick to y the underdog, eyes wide and mournful, a posture designed to elicit sympathy, to make others want to stand up for her.


    Unfortunately, her performance was so painfully obvious that none of the three Tates responded.


    For a moment, the air in the room seemed to freeze.


    Alessia almostughed. As she set her cup down, she nced at Ileana with a


    raised brow.


    Where Alessia was strikingly elegant and beautiful, Ileana had inherited Yvonne Sullivan’s softer features. She was attractive in her own right, but when the two stood side by side, the difference was obvious.


    The jealousy in Ileana’s eyes was impossible to miss. Alessia’s lips curled in a faint, knowing smile. She had a decent sense of Ileana’s personality already–just as the background reports had suggested. Hopefully, she’d show a little more sense when


    <i>1/2 </i>


    <b>15-35 </b>


    dealing with the Tate brothers.


    “This is the information on your biological parents.” Scott slid a folder across the table.


    That was the Tate family for you–no warmth, no pretense. They valued time, because time meant money, and sentiment solved nothing.


    Alessia picked up the folder, slender fingers flipping through the pages with unhurried grace. From the moment she’d entered the house, everything about her spoke of poise. After all, she’d been raised by the Tates. If she and Ileana stood on either side of Scott, no one would ever guess that Ileana was the Tates‘ real daughter.


    The first few pages covered her parents‘ basic information. Alessia skimmed them, and her earlier suspicions grew even more certain.


    No wonder they’ve suddenlye looking for me now, she thought, but said nothing aloud. Instead, she casually turned the page.


    Her hand paused when she saw the photograph. She let out a long breath. “Well, looks like I’ll have to rethink my strategy.”


    She was already considering her next move, but Ileana, watching her, misunderstood the sigh–assuming Alessia was overwhelmed with sadness about her future. Ileana lowered her head, hiding the smile tugging at her lips. When she looked up again, her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears.


    “Alessia–my adoptive parents aren’t well–off. Please don’t be too upset.”


    “There’s no need to call me your sister. It sounds strange.” Alessia didn’t bother to put on a show for the Tates–she didn’t care, and neither did they.


    “S–sorry.” Ileana fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, her voice trembling as if she were the most wronged person in the world.


    “I know you’ve lived a privileged life, and it’ll be hard to adjust when you go back… Dad, if Alessia wants to stay, just let her. I know I’m your daughter, but she’s grown up with you. She’ll miss you too.”


    Ileana tilted her face up at Scott, her gaze shimmering with practiced


    vulnerability–the perfect portrait of self–sacrifice, as if she’d dly bleed if it meant sparing him a single inconvenience.


    Alessia raised an eyebrow and took another sip of tea. Unfortunately, it had gone cold, and the taste was ruined. She set the cup down; Mae immediately stepped forward and reced it with a fresh one.


    15.25 wo


    Scott ignored Ileana’s clumsy effort at maniption, and Alessia had no intention of ying along either.


    “So, what are your ns?” Scott asked, watching as Alessia closed the folder.


    “Everyone to their proper ce,” Alessia replied, taking a sip of her tea to hide the smile tugging at her lips.