I froze, unable to stop the happiness fizzing into being.

Wait...does that mean he didn’t forget?

“What...to make her slave away?” Steve’s eyes rounded. “Could’ve waited until she was thirteen, at least.” He winked at me. “Let her see the world before shackling her to this place.”

“She’ll have plenty of time for that.” He hugged me close, marching forward, pulling me with him. “Come along, Bell Button.”

I rolled my eyes. “Again with the Bell Button.”

“Deal with it.” He chuckled, his graying hair catching the neon lights as we strolled down the wide hallway. The view of downtown Manhattan sparkled in the windows. Sitting regal on the forty-seventh floor, the offices of the CEO and top managers of Belle Elle never failed to impress and terrify me.

Dad owned this building along with a few others. He was loaded, according to the girls’ gossip at school. However, only I knew how much time and energy he put into his company and was very proud of him. But also scared what he would expect from me now I was older.

For years, things had been changing. My childhood had ended two months after Mom died, revealing how different both our lives would be from then on. No more fairy-tale stories or bedtime read alongs.

No more Aladdin or Beauty and the Beast.

No more make-believe.

Instead, Dad read me ledgers and showed me catalogs of new season apparel for the company. He gave me homework on how to navigate our website and taught me how to decide if buying a dress at two dollars was good sense if we sold it for nineteen. To work out rent, taxes, employee salaries, and other overheads to see if that dress would make any profit (turned out it was only twenty cents after expenses and too low to make a sustainable profit).

I’d lived and breathed this place since I was so young. And now, it seemed it even controlled my birthday.

Dad stopped at his office and held the entry wide for me to scoot through. I continued to his desk while he closed the door. I loved his desk. It reminded me of an ancient tree that’d been outside our brownstone for years until it was cut down.

Throwing myself into his comfy leather chair, I spun around, kicking his drawers to increase my inertia on the second spin.

“Elle.” Dad blurred as I spun again. He wasn’t mad. His face split into a smile as he chuckled. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

I planted my hands on his desk, coming to an abrupt stop. “No, I won’t. Those ballet lessons helped with my balance, remember?”

He nodded. “I do. You were a lovely swan in the Swan Princess.”

I smiled, forgiving him for forgetting my birthday because really, spending time with him was all I needed. Here or there, it didn’t matter as long as he and I were a we. “You need me to try some of the kid’s clothes today?” I reclined in his chair. “Help design the window display from a girl’s point of view?” I’d learned how to do all that, and I was good.

The company—Belle Elle—had been in my father’s lineage for longer than I could comprehend. One of my great, great, too many great grandfathers had called his little shop Belle Elle after his wife, Elizabeth Eleanor, whose nickname was Belle Elle. I knew that because multiple case studies on my ancestry and newspaper articles existed. It was yet another element of my homework: to learn as much about our legacy as I could because in this world—where the US didn’t have a royal family—we were classified in some circles as blue bloods.

Long standing citizens of an empire that’d been here since colonization. Slowly growing bigger and delivering more products from basic coats and hats for men and parasols and shawls for women, to full wardrobes, housewares, entertainment, and jewelry for any age.

Belle Elle was the largest retail chain in the US and Canada, and someday, it would be mine.

To a twelve-year-old girl who had fun playing dress-up with child-size mannequins once the customers had been kicked out, helped staff arrange new window displays, and could take costume jewelry home occasionally because her dad could write off a necklace or two, I was excited at the thought of this being mine. But to the woman slowly evolving—the one groomed on an hourly basis for such a future—was afraid.

Would I have what it took to control such a place?

Was it what I wanted to do with my life?

“I didn’t forget your birthday.” Dad linked his hands in front of his vest. “But you already knew that because you’re my daughter and the brightest girl in the world.”

I smiled, dropping my head in embarrassment. His praise never failed to warm and comfort me. I wouldn’t tell him I’d worried to begin with.

I truly thought you forgot.

He continued, “Today is a very special day and not just because you were born.” He plucked a piece of lint off his blazer, looking every inch a powerful CEO rather than the loving father I knew.

No matter where we were going, he always wore a suit. He made me adhere to the same strict wardrobe of pressed blouses, dresses, and smart trousers. I didn’t, nor had I ever, owned a pair of jeans.

Perhaps today that would be my present.

I sat quietly, politely, waiting for him to continue.

“I brought you to work to give you two presents.”

Phew, he truly didn’t forget.

I tried to hide my eagerness. I knew how to camouflage my true feelings. I might be a child, but I was born an heiress and had been taught to act unaffected in every situation—good or bad.

“Look to your right.”