Fisher nodded, but a strange buzzing deep inside made him think otherwise.

I was seven when I caught my first glimpse at how much power my family possessed, how much power I possessed. My dad rented out an entire amusement park for my birthday. I invited the kids in my class to come. We rode the rides as many times as we wanted, watched the shows over and over, and ate ice cream, funnel cakes, and homemade fudge from the food shops.

Throughout the day more than one classmate told me I must be “the richest girl in the world” or asked if I was a princess. Of course at that age I wanted to believe I was a princess. So I said yes.

After that I gained a lot more friends.

It didn’t matter that I felt nothing. No one cared if I treated him or her badly. Those who I allowed to spend time with me felt privileged. I was given everything and took what I wanted without consequence.

I was ten when one of my classmates first called me on my personality, or lack thereof. She’d said I was a heartless bitch.

My dad had rented out the entire IMAX Theater so my friends and I could watch the newly re-digitized Beauty and the Beast movie. Dad and Mom told me to invite as many people as I wanted. I invited five.

Alice Lindell came over to me one day in school, sat primly in the seat beside mine, and informed me that I should be kind and invite everyone. She was one of those trendy girls, very friendly, super pretty, and her parents obviously had money too, which was why I wanted nothing to do with her. I was the princess. No one else would ever be allowed to claim my title.

She’d been wearing flower pants, a white half shirt with the word princess sparkling in hot pink across her chest, a hot pink tank shirt and matching hot pink boots. The girl loved hot pink. Her hair was blond and she always flipped it with her hand when she talked.

I’d picked up my fruit punch juice container and “accidentally” spilled it all over her shirt and pants. “I don’t have to be kind,” I said, thinking I had no idea what kindness felt like. “I can do what I want and you aren’t invited.”

That was when she used the words—heartless bitch.

They stuck. If it were true or not, I didn’t know. I didn’t care. Those types of emotions meant nothing to me.

Eight years later and people still called me a heartless bitch behind my back. And it still didn’t bother me. Nothing did.

A lot has happened since then.

I’d just turned eighteen, graduated from high school, and was the owner of a brand new LaFerrari. It was yellow, had black leather seats, and cost my parents more than a million dollars. The car was beautiful and I knew I should be excited, yet my mood remained the same as always—blank.

“Would you like lunch by the pool or inside?” Mrs. Dotts asked, interrupting my thoughts of the past. She was Cavanaugh Mansion’s cook, an older lady, with gray hair, a friendly smile, and sensible shoes.

“The pool,” I answered.

“Very well, Miss Beatrice.” She bowed slightly, making her ruffled, white apron arch outward.

“Have you seen my parents?” I asked before she left to go into the main house.

“No, miss. When I arrived, they were already gone.”

The way her pudgy face puckered, it was easy to discern she was distressed by their actions. I knew why. My parents were creatures of habit. They woke each morning, including weekends, at five o’clock. Exercised. Got ready for the day. Ate breakfast. And then my dad would go in to work and my mom would do whatever it was she did. I rarely rose before seven but they’d been following the same routine for so long, even I knew their schedule. Occasionally they took a trip, but they always gave plenty of notice so Mrs. Dotts and Isaac could prepare for their absence.

“Did they leave a note?”

She wrung her hands, filled with worry. “No, miss.”

If they were gone, they were gone. I shrugged. “You’re blocking my light,” I said, waving her away.

Mrs. Dotts nodded and headed toward the house.

The pool was a few hundred feet from the main house, past the adobe-style patio. Cavanaugh Mansion was twenty thousand square feet of traditional grandness. The outside was a combination of stucco and brick. There were dozens of windows, and a balcony across the front and back of the house. It rested on the side of a mountain, overlooking Salt Lake City. Spanning fifty acres, Cavanaugh Mansion’s grounds had everything, including its very own nine-hole golf course, tennis courts, and stables, along with three guesthouses.

“Alone,” I whispered.

The pool water shimmered in the sunlight. I lay on my back, soaking in the warm summer rays. Birds chirped in the nearby trees, singing so happily I suddenly wondered what that must feel like—to be cheerful enough to sing about it.

“Miss Cavanaugh, may I present Will, Eva, Ashley, Cassidy, and Greg.” Isaac came over to the pool followed by my guests. He wore black pants, a black jacket, a silver vest, a white shirt, white gloves, and a black bow tie. Always pristine and by the book, he was a butler’s butler. When I was little, he scared me. He was tall and thin with receding salt and pepper hair and thick eyebrows that seemed to grow thicker by the year.

“Can we get some drinks, Isaac?” I sat up, my toned abs contracting as I shifted.

“Yes, miss.”

I’d known my friends were coming. Yesterday was my birthday and they’d texted that they wanted to bring me presents. I wasn’t going to pass up gifts, no way. What they gave told me how dearly they held my friendship

“The hard kind,” Eva said, smiling coyly up at a guy that I guessed was Greg. Then she said, “Happy eighteen, Bea. You look hot.” Greg nodded. He held a present in his other hand.

“Thanks. I am hot.” Everyone except Greg laughed. He obviously hadn’t been schooled on what was appropriate in my presence. I’d find a way to make him see.

I went to push my sunglasses on my head and then remembered I wore a tiara. Yes, the tiara was perfectly acceptable sunbathing attire. My bikini was red, the exact shade of the red diamonds in the rose crown. I took the glasses off and set them on the table next to my chair.

“Damn, Bea. Where’d you get that crown?” Cassidy asked, setting her present on the patio table and moving closer. She liked shiny things almost as much as I did.

Ashley shook her head. “Seriously? Only you would think to lie out next to a pool in a bikini and a tiara. What’s that stone in the center? A ruby?”

I shook my head, feeling like the cat that swallowed the canary. “It’s a red diamond.”

Will, who’d been quiet so far, blurted out, “Holy shit.” His father was in the diamond business. I knew that because he talked about diamonds all the freaking time. “That thing is probably worth eight million, give or take.” He sat on the long patio chair beside me, smiling. The present in his hand was small, with a brilliant blue bow and the word “Tiffany’s” etched across the box top.

I smiled back, knowing it was expected.

“Where did you get it?” Ashley asked, still referring to the tiara. She sat in the chair next to mine.

Eva, Cassidy, and Greg pulled up patio chairs and sat as well.

Glancing at each person, verifying I had their full attention, I gave them a brilliant smile. “My mom and dad gave it to me for my birthday.” I spoke about it like it was no big deal. To me it wasn’t, but I knew it was a big deal to them. Picking up some tanning lotion, I held it out for Will. “Would you mind?”

“Not at all.” Will was always so accommodating, just the way a boyfriend should be. He put down his gift, shook the lotion and squirted some on his hands. Then he rubbed them together and placed his hands on my back. The lotion was cool against my warm skin.