eana’s arms hung limp at her sides, her gaze growing vacant.
At some point, Larkin Yardley had appeared behind Cole, offering him a sanitizing wipe. Cole stood up and wiped his hands with deliberate care, a far cry from the eager, puppy–like demeanor he disyed in front of Alessia.
“Tell the Tate family that if they want this partnership to continue smoothly, I don’t want to see this person around again.”
“Yes, sir,” Larkin replied, nodding as he watched Cole leave.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Don’t you dare walk away! You’re just Alessia’spdog! Do you really think your words scare me? You think the Tate family will actually listen to you?”
Ileana shouted after him, her voice ragged and nearly gone. She tried to go after Cole, but her body wouldn’t obey.
Frustration settled over her like a heavy nket. All she could do was re viciously at Larkin, not realizing just how pathetic she looked.
Larkin dialed a number. “Mr. Dawson, yes, she’s in the gymnasium. Our CEO’s instructions are clear: if you want the partnership to continue, someone here
needs to leave.”
There was a pause on the other end. “Understood. I’ll pass along the message.”
Larkin tucked away his phone and looked down at her, not a trace of sympathy in his eyes.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t go picking fights with Alessia. You fought so hard to get your Miss Tate status back, but now? Looks like that seat isn’t as secure as you thought.”
Ileana’s face went even paler. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She was supposed to be in control. If she wanted to stay with the Morton family, she could. If she wanted to return to the Tates, it was hers for the taking. How had things turned out
like this?
While she waited for Mr. Dawson toe fetch her, she went over everything in her mind, but no matter how she reyed it, she couldn’t figure out where she’d gone
wrong.
Six years earlier
It <b>was </b>the start of summer <b>break</b>. Ileana <b>lounged </bfortably <b>on </b><b>a </b><b>five</b>–<b>thousand</b><b>–</b>dor sofa<b>, </b>cradling a bowl <b>of </b><b>chilled </b><b>watermelon </b><b>and </b>watching <b>The </b><b>house </b>was empty except for her and two–<b>year</b><b>–</b><b>old </b>Ivan <b>Morton</b>.
Karen had taken Zachary to the hospital for a checkup, Brendan was at the office and Ethan and Liam were off at their respective summer sses.
Unlike the Tate family, who believed in strict discipline, the Mortons let their children follow their own interests. If one of them wanted to take a ss–<b>even an </b>expensive one–they’d enroll them. If not, that was fine too. Good character mattered far more to them than academic achievement.
Luckily, even with a house full of kids, the eldest two were so well–behaved that Karen could breathe easy. The third child was a bit of a handful, but he loved music and was enrolled in every ss he wanted. He might have dragged his feet before regr school, but he’d happily go to back–to–back lessons all week and never seemed to tire.
As for Ileana Morton, Karen had tried to sign her up for various enrichment sses, but Ileana always quit after two or three days,ining they were too much work. She was the only girl in the family; after a few failed attempts to persuade her, Karen gave up. If Ileana wanted to be a pampered princess, so be it.
So, with summer vacation in full swing and everyone else busy, the only ones left at home were a bored Ileana and Ivan, who was still babbling his first words.
Suddenly, Ivan started wailing from the other room. Ileana ignored him, popping another piece of watermelon into her mouth. Five minutes passed, but the crying
didn’t stop.
Annoyed, Ileana grabbed the remote and cranked up the volume. Even at maximum, Ivan’s cries still cut through the noise.
“Stupid brat, just cry yourself out already!”
She mmed her bowl down, scowled, and stalked toward his room.