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child, whose parents lived paycheck to paycheck. Money didn’t matter to her, probably because her family never had much growing up. Regardless, she enjoyed the simple things in life and never took anything for granted.
    Exhausted, I walked over to my bed and plopped down. Pulling the butterfly clip from my hair, I set it down on my nightstand and curled up into a small ball. I couldn’t help but wonder how different my life would be if my mom were still alive. I’d probably be attending one of the top dancing schools in the country instead of studying for a degree in psychology. Dad wouldn’t be so paranoid. There would be no need for security—no need for Roman. More importantly, the other half of my heart would still be beating.
    But it wasn’t.
    And the more I thought about it, I convinced myself that was a good thing, because that part of my heart—the part that stopped beating—that was the same part of my heart that would allow me to feel.
    And the last thing I wanted to do was feel.

    The light breeze blowing through the crack in my balcony doors woke me up. I didn’t intend to fall asleep, but I was so tired I couldn’t help it. The room was dark as I removed my comforter and swung my feet off the side of the bed. Glancing down at my phone, I saw the time read nine o’clock. I had been asleep for almost five hours. Dad should have been home by now. Knowing him, he didn’t want to wake me, but I was eager to see him. I missed him and there was a lot I needed to talk to him about.
    Still wearing my same yellow sundress from earlier, I made my way down into the living room. My father and his long-time business partner, Grant Evans, were sitting on the couch. Grant was my father’s age, although his receding hairline and croaky voice made him seem much older. They had graduated college together and even started their own manufacturing business together, which became very successful.
    After the death of my grandparents, Dad resigned and signed the entire company over to Grant. For reasons not completely known, the business struggled and folded a year later. My father felt sorry for Grant, maybe even a tad bit guilty. He offered him a second-in-command position through several of his companies. Most of my father’s business interests involved private manufacturing and investments. His main focus, however, was purchasing struggling companies. Most of the time he paid more than what they were worth, but nine out of ten times, he had those same companies generating profits in as little as three months. Some of them he kept, others he sold off. While my father had always considered Grant a friend, my mother never trusted him. I would hear my parents arguing occasionally about decisions Grant would make. Mom always felt Grant was making decisions that would benefit himself in the long run. He didn’t seem to care how it could potentially hurt the business or the image it created.
    My father was beginning to see this until Mom’s death. Once Mom died, Dad checked out for a while. He avoided the office altogether and stayed home most of the time. Grant took over most of Dad’s responsibilities and proved to handle everything well, restoring Dad’s trust in him. Everything seemed to be running the way it should be, but I still didn’t trust him. If Mom didn’t trust him, she must have had a good reason not to.
    “Julia, it’s a pleasure seeing you.” He smiled a fake smile, and I knew it was to hide the surprised look on his face. He watched me as I planted a kiss on my father’s cheek. “I thought you were going to Europe for the summer?”
    Sitting down next to my father, I shrugged my shoulders. “Plans changed. I’ll be spending the summer here instead.” Grant stared at me. “Is that a problem?” I asked, arching my eyebrows. What did it matter to him what I was doing this summer?
    Grant waved his hand in the air. “Oh no, certainly not. We have a lot planned for this summer. Has your father