I felt the sunlight creep across my face as I gently opened my eyes. The midnight gala from the night before went until after two. It was a good time though, with a lot of people and a lot of names that were still swirling through my head. I pushed myself up and felt the bed and pillows give way for me. They were all custom made, fitted for my body, imported from wherever it was then most expensive to get them all from.

The mechanical windows finished their morning climb, set to a timer, just as they were set to a timer to close at night. Complete darkness helped me sleep, especially for those late nights that became mornings. Waking up too early to the sun was not really a pleasant thing. Or at least that’s what I was told. Or trained to believe. Whatever worked better.

I kicked off the expensive comforter and stepped out of the bed. Funny how the apartment was more of a home to me now than my actual home about twenty miles away. Out of the city, almost secluded, but too many people knew me. And photographers followed me wherever I went, so sometimes it was easier and better to just stay in the city. The whole princess thing started years ago for me, almost by mistake. My father insisted I make a dream list of what I would want for my sweet sixteenth birthday. At that time we were considered rich but not quite to the filthy rich status that hung over our heads on a daily basis. Six months leading up to my birthday my father’s savvy business mind tripled his wealth, thus tripling my own wealth. Even though I didn’t work for it, which was a strange feeling to me. One time I tried to set up a lemonade stand because I knew kids in school that did that for fun to earn money over the summer. My father laughed and handed me a credit card and told me to go shopping. A week later he bought a lemonade company and had a machine installed in the house, the backyard, and made sure that anytime I wanted lemonade, it was free.

That wasn’t the point of my lemonade stand.

Back to the princess thing.

As a teenager, who wouldn’t make up the most elaborate party ever? Fueled up on prince and princess movies as a kid, my world being a giant shelter after the death of my mother, I lived in the world of movies and make believe. So when I handed my list to my father as a joke, I didn’t realize he was going to make it all happen. Which included me being put up on a pedestal - literally - and my father putting a princess crown on me. I mean, the dress alone for the party was thousands of dollars.

Someone there snapped a picture of the crown thing and thus began myself being known as a princess. The Princess. I went from a sixteen year old girl who had no idea my wild ideas of a big party were going to come to life to becoming an almost celebrity figure for no reason. Everything I did was scrutinized. Everything I said was analyzed. I had to switch schools and eventually just got home schooled, because by then, I was an active member in my father’s business empire because the exposure was just too great to pass up.

Imagine this - my father being in the high class boardroom about five hundred stories in the air. Me, I was at home, actively studying, wishing I was in school with friends. My personal assistant - Andy - walked into the room and started to pack a bag for me. My custom closet was designed with clothing needed for wherever I was going. Which made it easier to pack when my father made the call for me.

Andy hurried to get a bag ready and then snapped her fingers for me to move. I packed up my school work and she told me to leave it. So I did.

I was then put into the back of a limo, driven to a small private airport (that my father owned), and was put on a private jet (that my father owned), and flown to his office. The drive would have been only an hour. But that hour was too precious for my father.

I was then taken to the building in another limo and escorted to the boardroom where my father stood, pouring himself a glass of scotch as he stood at the window, swirling the liquid and ice, sipping it.

It was in that moment I became an asset to his empire. I was no longer his daughter. I now had a purpose to him other than being a reminder of the wife he lost to a disease all the money in the world couldn’t cure.

But at the same time, just shy of eighteen and being offered a seven figure job - my first and only job - really wasn’t all that bad. Other than the fact that my father always had an agenda while I was just trying to find the good in people, in the world, and wonder what the hell was next in my life.

What came next this morning was my door opening and Andy standing there in a black dress, hair pulled back, holding a tablet in one hand, scrolling through it while she was talking on a headset. Obviously working on my schedule.

Andy had started by changing my sheets when I was fourteen. Cleaning my room. Cleaning my personal bathroom. She was the one who helped me through several awkward girl becoming a woman moments in life. So when it came time for me to get my job offer from my father I made sure that Andy got one too. She was a single mother, forever struggling, but now she had a comfortable job and was able to afford more for her kids than what was ever given to her.

That rested on my shoulders though, along with several other jobs.

Behind Andy came two people carrying trays of food and drink. I turned and opened my mouth to protest but it was no use. The two servers put the trays on a table and then began to set up my breakfast on another table. A cup of coffee that was custom roasted, organic, made in a kitchen that was only available to a select few. Along with that came free range fresh eggs, turkey bacon, a freshly peeled orange, a glass of almond milk, and a smoothie that looked like vomit but was packed with dozens of so-called super foods. The crazy thing was that the smoothie tasted better than anything else on the table.

Go figure.

“Thank you so much,” I said to the two servers.

They both looked at me like they had met someone famous.

“Of course, ma’am,” one man said. “Of course. Please. Enjoy.”

The two scurried away.

Andy ended the call and threw the tablet on the bed. She took out her phone and typed something and then threw that on the bed.

“Good morning, Liv,” she said.

“Andy,” I said.

I took a sip of the coffee. It was okay. I couldn’t comprehend the price tag on it.

“You have your conversation today at the children’s hospital.”

“I know,” I said. “I was thinking last night about what to say.”

“No need,” Andy said. “I have David bringing your speech right now.”

“My speech?”

“Yeah. You only have a couple minutes so things were decided upon…”

“My father.”

Andy shrugged her shoulders. “For the record, I would rather hear your honest words.”

I nibbled at the bacon. “Here. You eat.”

“No. That’s your breakfast.”

“Andy, have you eaten today yet?”

“No.”

I pushed at the plate. “Eat.”

“What about you?”

I sipped my coffee again and smirked. “I’m the princess, right? I can snap my fingers and get any food I want.”

“Of course,” Andy said with a smile.

She shoved a piece of bacon into her mouth. The door opened and in came David, without even a knock. My bedroom had been mine just a few minutes ago. Now it was a working office.

Andy turned and hid her mouth, her cheeks red.

I realized then if she got caught eating my food she’d probably get in trouble.

I jumped up and blocked her from view and put my hand out.

“Give it here,” I said to David.

“I wanted to review with Andy… have you practice…”

“I said give it,” I said in a more stern voice.

David’s eyes went wide. He released his hold on the leather folder and I took it.

He lingered before I pointed to the door.

David grabbed his suit jacket and turned, obviously offended by me.

Screw him.

When he shut the door, I followed and then locked it.

“Thanks for that,” Andy said.

“Keep eating,” I said without looking back.

I opened the folder and looked at what I was supposed to say.

It was a gut wrenching story about my mother and her passing from a rare cancer. I was set to speak at a children’s cancer hospital. My father was building another wing on the hospital. While it had a great purpose and sense of gratitude, it didn’t come without something for him to gain. The land he was dealing in had been sitting on his books for sometime and he needed to sell it off to the city so he would stop losing money on it. So basically he strong armed the city into buying his land so he could build on it. And the money he’d make from the land was more than the donation to the building of the wing. Not to mention he would stall the project for years to keep earning a return on the money made off the land by investing over and over, making more wealth for himself, all the while blaming the city for the delay in construction.

It was a vicious empire to watch grow, hidden with greed and nasty tricks, all the while trying to convince the public it was for the greater good. And I was the face of it… the princess…

“What do you think?” Andy asked.

I shut the folder and frowned. I dropped it to the floor and walked to the bathroom.

There, in privacy, I looked in the mirror at myself.

The marble bathroom. The custom lighting. The shower. The tub. The heated floors.

But it was my reflection that really caught my attention.

Nothing in what I was set to say was actually true. I had no memory of my mother. I certainly did not stand at her hospital bed and kiss her hand as she was dying.

I sucked in a shuddering breath, feeling overwhelmed.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

“Liv? You need to get dressed. The car’s out front.”

“Of course it is,” I whispered. “Everything is on a schedule.”

“Hey, your phone just went off too,” Andy said. “Looks like Parker is wishing you a good morning…”

I knew the tone in Andy’s voice.

I curled my lip.

Parker was the hand picked guy my father wanted me to marry.

My father was the king. I was the princess.

And sometimes I just wanted a way out of it all…

 

* * *

 

I met Abigail on one of my first trips to the hospital. When it was a press trip, it was cluttered and all for show. Things were staged, produced, questions and answers rehearsed, everything done for the camera. The footage was instantly sent back to a room in my father’s building where people would work to find the best cuts, add music, transitions, text, whatever it took to evoke the emotion of those who would get to see the footage.

Other times I would just go to the hospital for fun. The word fun was probably wrong, but I tried to bring that to those who were sick.

Something about Abigail stuck with me though.

She almost reminded me of me. Her bright eyes, a rich amber color, almost with deep hints of red in the right light. The pictures I saw of her she had messy darkish blonde hair, like mine. Although now she didn’t have hair, but that didn’t stop her from wearing amazing hats and being proud of who she was and why she was there and how badly she wanted to tell her story when she got out. I had already made a promise that her story would be heard over and over. The word fighterwasn’t good enough for Abigail or any of the kids in the hospital.

The last time I was at the hospital Abigail mentioned she wanted to get back to school. She wanted to learn. She was sick of games, toys. She wanted to be normal.

I smiled as I reached across the leather seat in the limo and touched the bag. I had ordered the biggest and most expensive laptop I could for her. I had it loaded up with everything she would ever need for learning. Any website, paid for. Private tutoring? Paid for in advance for five years. Every art and design program I could find because Abigail loved to draw and was really good at it.

I also included a tablet and a phone in the bag. Everything paid for, including the service. That also went for her family, too. I wanted them connected, as happy as they could be, and comfortable. Perhaps it wasn’t fair to everyone else in the hospital, but I would forever keep giving, even when cameras weren’t rolling because it wasn’t anyone’s business but my own.

When we arrived at the back of the hospital, I looked forward to Andy and I grabbed the bag.

“I need ten minutes,” I said. “No arguing with me.”

She nodded. “I’ll go with you.”

We got out of the car to a small group of people. My picture being taken. Some people yelling for me. Some people yelling to me that my father was a loser. A scumbag. The noise was hard to block out but I learned to do so by looking at my feet and counting my steps.

Inside, I went to the elevators and knew where to go and how to get there. If I moved fast enough I’d beat the cameras and production team. All I wanted was two minutes alone with Abigail to surprise her. Then I’d tour the main floor, visit patients, and finally, give my speech.

I stepped off the elevator and the hall was clear of cameras.

I hurried with Andy on my tail, typing away on her phone.

I made the corner and counted two doors and then went to reach for the door when it opened.

Out came a man who wasn’t a nurse or a doctor.

He looked at me like he knew me and nodded.

Then he walked away.

The door shut so I knocked on it.

As I opened the it and poked my head inside, I felt a hand to my arm.

“Excuse me…”

I turned and saw a nurse. “Hello. I’m…”

“You’re Olivia…”

“I need to visit Abigail in private. Before all the cameras show up. I’m sorry to just barge in. I have something for her.”

I saw the nurse’s face drop. “Oh. You can’t go in there.”

“Like hell I can’t,” I said, standing my ground.

I pushed my way into the room, unafraid of what I’d find.

What I didn’t expect to find was an room empty. All signs of Abigail were gone. The room super clean smelling, the bed clean and empty. All her drawings stuck to the wall were gone. The shelf next to the window was empty of flowers.

I turned and put my hand to my mouth.

The nurse had followed me. “I’m really sorry, Olivia.”

“When?”

“A week ago.”

“No.”

Andy then came into the room. “Hey, we have…”

She looked around the room and her eyes went wide.

“No,” I repeated. I held up the bag. “I brought this for her. She wanted to go to school.”

“I’m so so sorry,” the nurse said. “Can I get you anything? Let me shut the…”

A second later there were voices. Noises.

My eyes filled with tears.

I heard Andy yell for everyone to back off.

But it was too late.

The cameras were in the room with me.

Snapping pictures. Questions being thrown at me. Cameras rolling with raw footage of me being upset. Standing there holding the gift I wanted to give to Abigail.

The nurse yelled at everyone to get out. They didn’t listen. Andy yelled. They still didn’t listen.

So I just started to walk forward.

Andy cleared a path for me and everyone followed.

This was my life.

I was the princess of… whatever.

An hour later, I gave my fake speech, but the tears were real.

My father would later call to tell me how amazing I did. But the sinking feeling in my stomach never left for the rest of the day. And I somehow ended up out with Parker at a fancy restaurant, his hand touching my face, lingering with the intention of kissing me and more. Our picture was taken several times, Parker reveled in it, and I had one too many drinks to just blur out the day and night.

Parker fell asleep long before I did and I crept out of the bed feeling dirty. I went into the kitchen and looked up Abigail on my phone. I cried, hating myself for not knowing more and doing more. I caught my reflection in the window in the kitchen and realized my day was ending the way it started - feeling empty in a world where I was rich.

I never wanted to be rich though. I wanted to be happy.

The crazy thing about happiness… you never knew when it was going to crash into your life.