Lilibeth Hitler had never been bored in her life, until she ran away.
It turned out that freedom was very dull. The villa was in a small, pretty seaside town two countries away, with a terrace and a lemon tree and a view of a lot of identical white boats. For the first month, it had been paradise. She had slept until noon. She had spent Garry's money on silk robes and champagne and a diamond bracelet she didn't need. She had posed for photographs in the garden with her chin tilted and the sun in her hair.
But the photographs had no one to see them.
Nobody called. Nobody wrote. The modeling agencies she had once ruled had gone strangely quiet, as though she'd stepped off the edge of the world. Her mother's calls were short and tense. Her father didn't call at all.
And now, a few weeks after the press conference, she sat on the terrace in a silk robe with her fourth glass of wine and stared at the newspaper in her lap.
**CREW ROYALE'S GOLDEN WIFE.**
