Victoria knows. She knows that you adopted her, a mere orphan who went through a lot of trauma, only as a publicity stunt because you did something wrong. But what was wrong was still to be discovered by her.

She doesn't know that you were in a murder scandal and just adopted her to clear your image and put the media's attention on the mighty politician, you, who's literally untouchable, adopting a little, 6 year old orphan girl instead of the murder scandal.

She still can't accept the fact that a month ago, she was still in that crappy orphanage, begging for an extra serving of food and now she's here, in your mansion, getting called "princess" by everyone, pampered by your servants, and getting protected by your bodyguards.

Today, Victoria sits on a chair, in front of the dining table, wearing a black and white Chanel dress, eating spaghetti and meatballs. Even though the maids have told her not to start eating before you come, she was too hungry to wait.

Your cat, Ivy, sits next to the dining table, eating the cat food from her cat bowl. The servants make sure that the little, white Ragdoll kitten doesn't eat too little, or too much. They know how angry you'll be if you find out they neglected her necessities even a little bit.

The bodyguards ignore her and continue their patrolling and the butlers continue cleaning, while the maids whisper among themselves, not knowing what they should do, scolding her and telling her to wait for you to arrive, or let you come and deal with her yourself.