Their Masks

The Rich Girl's Mask (Part 1)

Things did not look well for Amelia Ventica at the moment.

All the possible events that could have gone wrong today had collaborated to give her more reasons to despise the early hours of a normal day. First, her alarm, that devilish thing, decided it was too tired to rouse her from her slumber. Second, her shower had conspired with the alarm clock to deny her the pleasure of having a hot bath.

After going through that blizzard of a bath, skipping the heavenly breakfast cooked by her chefs and having the driver gun the car past the speed limit, she got the news from her assistant that the photo-shoot was pushed to the afternoon hours. The photographer cited the weather and the camera lighting needs to be in sync with each other as the reason.

Not the best morning for Amelia Ventica. But when you are as famous and wealthy as she was, it was impossible for an entire day to be bad.

This she proved by scrolling down her contact list, making a call, and enjoying a cold drink six hours later in the company of people who existed only to make her feel better. That photographer would have to conform with her schedule now, assuming she would ever be in the mood to have him take her picture again.

No matter how anyone would spin it, Amelia was too rich for a nineteen-year-old. The worst part of it, and that was probably why many of her less fortunate peers on social media disliked her to an incredible degree, was that she had acquired this wealth by doing absolutely nothing.

Amelia was the nineteenth and future heir to the Ventica Empire. A family whose wealth and status had been ingrained into the world since the first billionaire was credited with the feat. Since then, the accumulated wealth and fame from the predecessors was a strong foundation that required minimal changes as the times went by.

By the time Amelia was born, her parents had already amassed enough wealth to keep a small country afloat for half a year. Her childhood seemed straight out of a dream. All her desires knelt at her feet, tripping over themselves to meet her satisfaction. And her satisfaction always came first to both her desires and her parents.

She had been to every lavish hotel by the age of eight, met with the most famous people of the world by the age of twelve, eaten every luxurious dish edible on earth by eighteen. And now at twenty-two, she had successfully lodged herself in the hallways of social media as the most beautiful and richest girl of the millennia.

Amelia's life was what most people envied to glimpse, even if it was in their dreams.

She didn't see what all the fuss was about though. For twenty-two years, she had been spending money in search of that elusive concept called satisfaction. Everything that her money could buy had already passed through Amelia's hands. Everyone that her fame warranted company with had already shaken Amelia's hand at least once. What else was there left to do with all this money?

"I got off the phone with Manuel. I made it clear that you wouldn't be kept waiting by anyone in this world for a picture. You have Jasmine's birthday party to go to in the evening. I made sure to get you a present for that. I also picked up your dress from the store and had it delivered to the venue because I know your policy on designer clothes and sweat..." a face that she had never found a need to remember its owner's name rattled on about her schedule for the day.

Amelia thought it interesting that she did not know the name of this girl in front of her. The others currently laughing and drinking expensive champagne were models who were paid to be her entourage for the day. Most would fade into oblivion by the time this gathering disbanded. But this face that knew her life to the minute detail possible had been in her life since she turned nineteen and her mother became tired of having her around the mansion.

The title had been contested for almost physically. Thousands of people lined up to have a chance to serve her. If Amelia's memory was correct, a television series was created to find her a personal assistant. Looking at this girl still rattling on about her plans for the day, she wondered why she was the winner.

There was nothing extraordinarily beautiful about her. She was as normal a person as all the faces she had seen in the world. Her clothes were fashion survey, but that was to be expected of anyone within fifty feet of Amelia. Her hair was acceptably styled. Her competence reasonable enough to take to major events and social gatherings.

But that was it. She had nothing else. Amelia could see herself as the prettier of the two. Anything else would be eclipsed by the gigantic gap in their financial statuses. Her assistant was a mere drop in the ocean that was Amelia Ventica.

So why was she envious of a 'nobody' whose name she had no use to remember and whose life was a bland mask compared to her exotic one? Was it for the lack of scrutiny by the entire world if she didn't attend a stupid birthday party? Was it the ease of doing whatever she wanted with her clothes because no one would criticize her for it? Or maybe it was the fact that her assistant actually knew all the eight-five people who followed her on her social media accounts?

It didn't matter at all. She was still better than the girl. She had money and the power to do anything that the girl could dream of. And she was going to prove it.

"I want a new bathroom. And come up with something to tell Jasmine as the reason for me missing her party. I don't feel like going to that crappy event anyway. Actually, get Mike on the phone and have him prep the jet. I feel like eating Italian tonight. And make sure that tonight's dress is in the jet when I get there."

It was impossible to accomplish all those tasks successively and in time. Jasmine Nunez was about the closest thing to a friend that the world knew Amelia had. Missing that party would require the greatest cover-up in the world. And how was the girl going to supervise a new bathroom installation, deliver an apology to Jasmine, get Mike to prep the jet and move Amelia's custom-designed dress three hundred miles in a mere two hours?

"Yes, ma'am." The cheerful response came from the girl as she got out her planner and exited the room. Amelia was used to having things go her way. She was used to having life bow to her demands. People like her assistant lived to be of service to her. She had nothing to be envious of the girl. The mere thought that she had even considered that was appalling to her. It was an honor for the girl to be trusted with anything that she owned.

It was therefore pleasing to Amelia that her assistant was just another mask in the world that would do anything for her.