“Sir.” Butler Dawson spoke quietly, picking up the remote and pressing a button. As the curtains parted, the dim room filled with pale morning light.

    “What happened today?” Scott rubbed his temples, pain throbbing behind his eyes.

    Butler Dawson lowered his gaze. “Miss Ileana…”

    Scott’s frown deepened. “What about her this time? Raleigh called me at the crack of dawn, screaming that I’d saddled him with some drug–addicted tramp-” He broke off, turning a piercing look on Dawson.

    The butler nodded silently, confirming everything without another word.

    Scott lurched to his feet, only to sway dizzily and copse back onto the bed. Dawson rushed forward, steadying him and rubbing his back, afraid the outburst might make him pass out.

    “Sir, are you alright?”

    “My phone–where’s my phone?”

    Dawson handed it over from the nightstand. Scott unlocked it. Messages and missed calls flooded the screen, piling up like storm clouds.

    “Sir…” Dawson ventured carefully, noticing how Scott’s face had drained of color.

    “Where is she? Where’s Ileana?!”

    “She’s in her room.”

    “Miss Ileana‘? Don’t call her that. The biggest mistake I ever made was letting here back ito /ithe Tate family! Ruined–she’s ruined everything!” Scott exploded, hurling his phone across the room.

    He shoved past Dawson and stormed down the hall to Ileana’s bedroom, Dawson stumbled, catching himself on the doorframe. He nced at the shattered phone on the floor and the empty bottles by the bed, letting out a barely audible sigh.

    Meanwhile, Ileana was in no better shape.

    She sat before herptop, skin ashen, hands trembling so badly she couldn’t click the close window button no matter how she tried.

    She couldn’t make sense of it. Just a second ago, thements were all condemning Alessia. How had it flipped so fast–now everyone was tearing her apart instead?

    09:56

    And the photos… besides Fortune, who were those people? Why wasn’t it Fortune in the pictures? There were more photos, too–if Scott saw them…

    The thought made Ileana shake uncontrobly. She grabbed her phone to call for help, but before she could dial, her bedroom door crashed open.

    “Ileana! Exin those photos–now!”

    “Dad… they’re photoshopped, they’re fake, it’s not me… it’s not me.” Ileana sprang up, shaking her head wildly. Clutching the back of her chair, her eyes were wide and wild with terror.

    “Fake? Do you think I’m blind or just stupid?” Scott’s every shout made her flinch, trembling so hard she could barely stand.

    “Get out of this family. Right now. Out!”

    Her eyes went wide with panic. She stumbled forward, grabbing at his shirt.

    “Dad, please, you have to believe me–those people are just spreading lies! I’m your daughter, your own daughter. Please, believe me!”

    Tears spilled down her face, but her misery only seemed to make Scott’s disgust sharper.

    “Look at you!” He didn’t hesitate–he shoved Ileana away, his face twisted with loathing.

    “I don’t care how messed up your private life is, but drugs? I sent you abroad to get your life together, not to lose control! Is that what it was for? Huh?” Scott’s face was flushed, his hand shaking as he pointed at her.

    “Sir, please, calm down,” Dawson pleaded, trying to intervene.

    “You–You!” Scott was beyond hearing; he clutched his chest, panting, pointing at Ileana but unable to string together another sentence.

    “Get out! Out! The Tate family doesn’t want someone as shameless as you. The Tate family… the Tate family doesn’t need anyone who’s worthless. Get out!”

    Butler Dawson rushed to steady him, fearing Scott might copse at any moment.

    212