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Prologue

Copyright © 2024 Maria McDonald

To many, fame is acquired.

Actors and actresses become widely known for their talent to emulate any character; from a superhero originating from another planet to a grad student realizing she has the natural ability to be a double agent for the CIA; from a battered young mother struggling to provide for herself and her daughter after escaping an abusive relationship to a buffalo hunter-turned-lawman post the American Civil War era. Singers produce lyrics and music that could pluck at your heartstrings. Dancers impress their audience with intricate, body-twisting movements. Professional athletes gain die-hard fans either from their good looks or as they win state championships.

To a small number of individuals (like members of the Royal family, children of current and former head of states), fame and fortune are simply something they are born into; inherited, like your father’s red hair or your mother’s topaz-colored eyes.

Whether by choice or inheritance, you grow accustomed to living a life in the spotlight, much like walking unassisted or speaking fluently in your native tongue. Over time, what started as utmost annoyance when sighting paparazzi lurking around street corners no longer bother you. Hearing about yet another unsubstantiated story – a total intrusion to your privacy – becomes equivalent to a pesky bug you simply flick off your shoulder.

With so much of your life conducted under the magnifying glass of public scrutiny, any semblance of normalcy is a luxury. For the sake of blending in with the crowd, some celebrities travel incognito, hiding their faces behind oversized sunglasses, a baseball cap, a hoodie, or all three. Famous parents strive to give their children as normal an upbringing as they possibly could, from walking them to school to having a family outing at the park; their paternal instincts compelling them to protect their offspring’s privacy by imploring and bargaining with the paparazzi to refrain from taking photos.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, is more paramount than those you admit into your inner sanctum. You regard those cosying up to you with a greater dose of wariness. You screen them more carefully and rigorously, hoping to find a select few whose motives are genuine rather than superficial. Those who want to befriend you for who you truly are, disregarding the preconceived notions the media has depicted you as. Those who couldn’t care less about how the perks and prestige of your status would benefit them. When you are fortunate enough to find these special individuals, you treasure and protect them always, never taking them for granted; for they are gems, more precious than the rare Hope diamond…


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