Romans & histoires Barbie Life In The Dreamhouse

"I won't, Naomi. I promise. He’s too busy with his 'perfect' life to notice someone like me anyway." I laid down on the bed, pulling the thin, scratchy blanket up to my chin. The bed was uncomfortable, and the noise of the city outside was loud, but I didn't care. I wasn't Mrs. Ashford tonight. I was just Naomi. As I drifted off to sleep, I had a dream. I dreamt of a small house with a garden. There were no marble floors, no chandeliers, and no cold mother-in-law. There was just a swing set in the backyard and the sound of a baby laughing.

"My name is Barbara Adams..." ​Rhyssa’s lips twitch and her feline eyes crinkle with mischief, She lets out a low chuckle that vibrates in her throat. "Okay... Barbie." ​I blanch instantly and my mouth drops open at the horrible nickname. Barbie? Seriously??? Before I can snap back she smoothly steps closer, her tone dropping into a conspiratorial whisper as she gestures toward the patrons scattered around the room. "This is the VVIP section," she explains, her sharp eyeliner glinting under the red lights. "These are the creme de la crop of society we're dealing with up here... I'm talking extremely wealthy motherfuckers." She leans in a fraction closer, a wicked spark in her eyes. "I'm just

Build a life of your own, and never depend on someone else to give you one. The handwriting looked young, almost childish. But there wasn't a trace of hesitation in it. I stared at the words for a long time, then picked up a pen and added one more line beneath them. [Xenia Wells, may your dream live on.] ... The next morning, I woke to someone pounding on my door.