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This story: 'Forever Yours,' including all chapters, prologues, epilogues, and associated content is copyrighted under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act of 1988. All rights are reserved for the creator and owner of this work and any unauthorized copying, broadcasting, manipulation, distribution or selling of this work constitutes as an infringement of copyright. Any infringement of this copyright is punishable by law.
I wobbled slightly as I carefully made my way down the huge, marble staircase leading from the front doors of our mansion to the driveway. The black stiletto heeled boots I wore were so not material for staircases. If I trip and die today...I blame you, Cara, I mentally berated my younger sister as I gripped the railing.
What's wrong with jeans? When did jeans and converse ever go out of style? I had asked her that morning, staring mournfully at my favorite jeans and black converse. She had been too irritated to respond, shoving a pair of leather ankle boots and white designer pants into my arms. Put them on, she had commanded before throwing a black shirt at my face. I made a face. She was right, of course. I had an eleven o' clock appointment with my father's lawyers. Converse didn't exactly fit the bill, as she impatiently explained several times.
As I stepped off the last stair, I nearly breathed a sigh of relief. Looking up, I immediately began gnawing on my bottom lip. Right in front of me was parked my new, black limousine and leaning on the far side, the newly hired chauffeur. I felt self-consciousness flutter through me. This was going to be so weird. Who jetted around in limousines except for the stuck up and pretentious? I was going to a meeting with a couple of lawyers, not to meet the president or go to a prom.
But my father's motto as of late had become this: we came from far less and many more have far worse; be grateful for the blessings. And it's not like I could disagree with that.
Thus I would be driven in a chauffeured stretch limo to some big lawyer's office where I would be signing a whole bunch of documents to officiate my status as heiress if anything would ever happen to my dad. Fun.
Maybe that's my problem, I brooded, releasing my grip on the railing to begin walking towards the limo. Just the idea that something could happen to Dad. It was so impossible that it was almost ridiculous. But then again... I caught myself with a prick of sadness. Nothing's impossible. And even though I had no doubt that God had a bit more work left to be done on earth by my outspoken, larger than life father... He could just as easily take him.
Ahead of me, the limo driver leaned against the limo, arms crossed, staring into the far distance of our estate. I paused for a moment, one foot on the tarmac, one on the sidewalk. I should, like, go say hi to him, right? Introduce myself as his new boss, or whatever?
I made a face. Eww. Knowing myself, the levels of awkwardness that could be reached in that type of introduction would be too astounding to relate.
But... forcing myself off the sidewalk, I walked around the back of the limo, bracing myself for the embarrassment and the stuttering and the awkwardness that meeting new people always delivered to me.
Now this, I thought emphatically as I approached him, this is where I wished we could use our money for the greater good of creating me a living clone to do all the cringe-worthy stuff that came with being in the public eye or having employees and whatnot. That would be of more help to me than a limousine.