Oakley twisted his face. He couldn’t believe he once thought Anthea was attractive. Apart from her


    looks, it seemed she didn’t have a single redeeming quality.


    To call Anthea a ‘poor rich girl‘ would be apliment she didn’t deserve.


    Her reputation at the Morris family was notorious for all the wrong reasons!


    “I’ve heard the stories about the Morris family’s spoiled heiress, but I never imagined she was your


    cousin…” Oakley finally managed to say after a moment of disbelief.


    Watching the shift of Oakley’s expressions, Ste continued, “Honestly, I was just as surprised!


    Poor Aunt Carole had such high hopes with Reba, who was not only top of her ss but sharp


    as a whip, too. There was a light at the end of the tunnel with her. But Anthea? My mom’s worried


    sick about Aunt Carole. Raising a daughter like that is just a heartache.”


    Ste heaved a heavy sigh, pretending to be worried about Carole.


    Reba was a star, bound for an Ivy League future, destined to make something of herself.


    But Anthea? She could hardly spell her name, let alone dream of university. Expecting her to


    amount to anything was like waiting for pigs to fly. Anthea’s future was as clear as day. Living her


    life as nothing more than an underachiever in some dingy basement apartment.


    “Are you saying Reba is the real heiress of the Morris family?” Oakley asked. looking for


    ConTEent bel0ngs to N?v(e)lD/rama(.)Org .


    rification.


    “Yes,” Ste nodded. “A true heiress through and through. Despite living in that basement with my


    aunt, Reba never fell behind. She’s nothing like Anthea who, despite being spoon–fed with a


    silver spoon, amounts to nothing more than a jerk.”


    Oakley nodded, impressed. Reba did indeed seem remarkable.


    Just then, Ste seemed to remember something and quickly said, “Oh, shoot me that screenshot


    of your friends list, will you? I need to post it on my socials.”


    “Sure,” Oakley replied, pulling out his smartphone to log into GlobalGigaNet and send the


    screenshot to Ste.


    As soon as Ste posted it online, her social feed exploded. Even the most reclusive of her


    contacts couldn’t resistmenting.


    “Holy smokes! Is that the real Phoenix–YC?”


    “Riding on the coattails of greatness!”


    “For real? Or just a lookalike ount?”


    “Reposting for a touch of luck!”


    Ste was bombarded with private messages too, everyone eager to get a piece of Phoenix–YC


    through her.


    Looking up at Oakley, she mused, “Imagine if you could befriend Phoenix.”


    “Don’t even start,” Oakley replied, rolling his eyes. “That’s Phoenix YC we’re talking about. Not


    someone you just add willy–nilly. I’ve heard even Dr. Varn couldn’t swing an invite.”


    Ste deted her hopes immediately.


    Dr. Varn? The man was a legend, a titan in the scientific research!


    Downstairs in the living room,


    Hancock, the patriarch of the Lyons family, had returned home.


    At fifty–three, Hancock looked remarkably younger, probably thanks to his job, which seemed to


    keep him in his early forties.


    Gemma and Felton were nking him on either side like attentive butlers rather than elders of the


    family.


    One held Hancock’s zer while the other offered him slippers.


    They were more like servants in the Lyons family than the head of the family.