Dahlia.
Crystals surrounded me, gleaming like diamonds at a billionaire’s auction. Naturally, I reached out to touch them because who wouldn’t? But the second my fingers brushed their cool surfaces, reality yanked me back. I woke up—again—with that same What in the sparkly hell is going on? feeling.
I gasped and spotted the maid—Billie, the stoic glasses-wearing mystery. I really should start calling her by name instead of mentally dubbing her Specs McGee. She stood at the edge of my bed, her reflectionless glasses locked onto me like a laser.
"Good morning. I hope you had a pleasant dream," she said with a look that suggested she already knew I didn’t.
I nodded, still reeling from the dream that felt more like a weird audition for a fantasy movie.
The door swang open, and my
