A virtue that wasn't her strongest trait.

" All done! Betsy will be here with your dress soon." Mrs. Adams announced.

" Who's Betsy?" Emma asked, unsure of the person's identity.

" Try to keep up Emma! She's the designer. Oh good. She's here." Mrs. Adams announced, going through her phone.

Emma sat in silence, having nothing to say or contribute. She felt like some sort of rag doll. Having people dote and wait upon her.

She soon understood that she wasn't the least bit comfortable with being treated like glass and royalty. Matter-of-fact, when she got the alleged princess treatments, her subconscious usually found ways to make her believe there was some ulterior motive behind them.

Being brought up by her parents as a child, she was familiar with the whole notion and treatment But ever since their death, she grew suspicious of every activity that led to her peace of mind.