Rule Number One

Rule Number One: Everyone Has a Price

As an Elite our greatest asset is also our greatest weakness. Wealth. The thing about being unbelievably wealthy is that you can never be sure who you can trust. And in the very core, no one is loyal enough to turn down millions or billions of dollars. As my grandfather likes to put it, "Everyone has a price; you just have to wait for them to name it."

This warning made me incredibly wary and guarded of anyone I met. Anyone who knew of me or my family, I would approach with caution. When you're as high up as we are, the fall is much greater and the impact, shattering. So safe to say, finding "the one" at any Elite function seemed like a farce. No matter how I felt, I had to play the part. Someone seeking a suitor because that's the role I play because I can't inherit the massive fortune until I'm married to some snotty, spoiled, privileged jerk who's only in it for the money. The only saving grace is that there will most definitely be a prenuptial agreement drawn up by our very thorough lawyers.

"Mom! This is too tight!" I shrieked as my lady-in-waiting pulls the strings on the corset to accentuate my figure. We're in the modern era, but Mother loves old Victorian high fashion.

"Vanessa, it's a beautiful dress," she dismissed. "Give it a wiggle after you're fully dressed and it'll be comfortable."

"I don't want to wear period clothing, I just want to wear a nice sundress or something," I complained. "It's a garden luncheon."

"If I let you wear the dress you want, then I expect you to dance with any man who asks."

"Fine," I conceded. I abhorred dancing in general, especially with suitors, but this corset was cutting off my airflow. "Bethany, please bring me the sunflower dress and the white kitten heel sandals."

"Yes, my lady," Bethany obliged.

"Call me Vanessa!" I called after her as she quickly rummages through the closet.

"You know she won't," my mother said. "She refuses to call me my name and I've known her much longer. And your grandfather, well, he'd have a fit if he heard her!"

"I don't care what Grandpa thinks," I rolled my eyes. "He's too old-fashioned. Like hello, 21st century is calling. Plus, we're having a rooftop garden luncheon in the heart of New York City, it's not like we're at the chateau at the lake or something."

"Speaking of, how would you like to go to the lake house for the summer?" Mother asked. "It'll be quaint and a nice time away from the hustle and bustle of city life."

"Why are you really kicking me out of here?"

"We want to renovate the penthouse, maybe buy the floor under us," she confided. "Your father and I plan on vacationing in Europe, but we want some alone time and we know you would never go stay with your grandparents. So what do you think?"

"It could be nice," I agreed. "I'm allowed guests?"

"No men," she warned. "I know you're 22, fresh out of college and independent, but the rules still apply. No commoners. No partying. Nothing to bring shame or disgrace to our family."

"Yeah, I've heard the spiel since forever," I groaned. "And it's not like it can get out of control the staff there is probably already preparing and locking down escape routes."

Bethany returned with the dress and shoes and I lit up. Finally! Something I want to wear. My mother looked at it in complete disdain. My dress, as expensive as it is, looked like you could get it at a thrift shop or common chain store not the couture that it is. To be fair, I asked my personal designer to make things similar to the simple clothing that I saw everyday passersby wear and sometimes even celebrities' casual outfits. And to his credit, he followed a significant amount of influencers to ask for my opinion on styles or clothing I would like. He also prepared a lot of high end, runway type of wardrobe for me to satisfy my mother.

"Thank you, Bethany," I nodded. "I can put this on myself after you help me get out of this trap."

"A corset is not a trap," my mother argued.

"Then you keep wearing them, and I will not," I sassed. I playfully stuck my tongue out at her as she shook her head in disapproval and walked out of the room. She was only in here to oversee my clothes and check on their suitability for the event. I took her leaving as a thumbs up and merrily adorned the new outfit.

"Lady Vanessa, shall I work on your makeup now?" Bethany asked. She was already halfway through setting up the makeup palettes and other tools at my vanity when she approached me.

"I'd rather not wear any makeup," I declined. She gasped. I looked at her in confusion.

"My lady! It's within the bounds of etiquette that you have a made up face in the presence of male company," she lectured. "You must put on even a little."

"Fine," I relented. "Some eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss. No foundation or concealer, or anything too much."

"Very well," she accepted. I could tell from her posture that she was internally grumbling, but was too professional to ever voice those thoughts to me. I wonder if I could bribe her to talk to me like I'm an equal, I thought. No, my grandfather would fire and blacklist her. I don't know if I could afford to pay her enough to set her up for life.

"Do you think I'm going to find someone in the throngs of men to show up today?" I queried. I wanted her real opinion, but I'm certain she'd only give me a diplomatic answer at best.

"I think there are chances to find love wherever we seek it," she replied. Called it!

"Have you found love?"

"I have loved and lost," she said sadly. "He was a great man. I met him working for your grandfather. He was a guard at the main home."

"What happened?"

"He protected your mother during an attack as it was his duty," she said matter-of-factly. "I was proud of him. He died an honorable death."

I frowned. It was such a tragic love story. And his honorable death was because he was doing his job? I couldn't fathom how Bethany didn't harbor any ill will toward my mother or my family as a whole.

"Aren't you angry at all?"

"Why would I be angry?" She seemed genuinely perplexed by the question.

"Because he would still be alive if he wasn't working for us!"

"Lady Vanessa! It is a deep honor for us to work for dignified families like yours," she gasped, looking absolutely appalled by what I suggested. "We make an incredible wage and our employers treat us well. Before I started work here, I worked as a maid in the hotels and Lady Vanessa, when I tell you I was worked to the bone, it is no exaggeration. And my love, well, he used to work graveyard shifts at a junkyard!"

"What are those places like?" I asked. I always wondered about the world beyond my little circle.

I knew in theory the exclusivity of being an Elite, but I never experienced the rest of the world first hand. I didn't need to, at least, that's what I've been told my whole life. Even my father, who came from that reality told me that it was far better to be where I am than to learn the lessons that he did.

"It's hard out there, a whole different world," Bethany shared. "After I leave here at night, I'm fortunate enough that your family sends me home in a car so I don't have to take the subway. I live in a much nicer neighborhood now because I can afford it with my salary, but I used to live in the projects. I don't know if you know what those are, Lady Vanessa, but they're apartment buildings overseen by the government."

"That doesn't sound so bad," I said. "Apartments that are regulated sounds like a wonderful thing."

"In theory, yes," Bethany nodded as she wiped my face after I sat down in front of her. "But there were always things to be fixed and the space was limited and a bit cramped. Many people would squeeze into these spaces. They still do. I have family that still live in those buildings."

"Wow, so the news doesn't really capture the reality," I commented and she scoffed while applying my eyeliner.

"The news anchors are as far removed as the privileged."

I stopped talking as she continued to work on my face. It gave me a lot of food for thought. I was the privileged and I could hear the scorn in her voice. She didn't blame me for being well off, but she recognized the disparity.

"What's your price?" I asked. "If you could get a lump sum that you felt set you up for the rest of your life, how much would it be?"

"Lady Vanessa," she started. "I can't-"

"I'm not going to buy you out or let my family know. I just want to know. In the general world, how much do you feel like is enough to set you up for life?" I assured her.

I waited patiently. I didn't think she would say and with my eyes closed, I couldn't read her facial expressions to tell if she even took my request seriously. She stopped working on my eyeliner and I heard her moving things on the vanity so I opened my eyes to look directly at her. Her face scrunched in a clear internal battle of propriety and unease. She even had noticeable fear.

"I mean it," I repeated. "I won't tell. This is between us."

"Maybe a million dollars," she answered. "Enough for me to buy a studio or one bedroom condo and have the other half to live on. Put some in investments with dividends."

"That's not very much," I said. I flinched when I realized how callous I sounded. Vanessa, your privilege is showing, I chirped.

"It may not be for you, Lady Vanessa," Bethany said calmly as she worked on my eyelashes. "But not many of us have the luxury of ever reaching that price tag."