Liss, you always hate the great characters. You should know what I'm talking about.

The long flight back to Genovia was exceedingly tedious. Especially because Olivia practically refused to talk to me. Just because I lost my temper with her a little, she had to go and clam up completely.

And okay, maybe I shouldn't have yelled at her to "Put that down!" but she was opening my cosmetics bag in the middle of the airport! Grandmere always says a lady's toiletries are a very personal thing, and I happen to agree with her on that. Besides, I was nervous enough about bringing Michael back to Genovia. Grandmere is going to eat me alive when she sees him.

And Rene will never let me live it down. This'll go down in the 'Things Mia Has Failed At' book for sure. It's funny that my book is twice as thick as his. Not. Since when does "putting the country above most everything else for six years" pale in comparison to "participating in a court diving contest in just a thong"?

It doesn't even matter what I gave up to be princess. Just that I can't seem to do it correctly, at least in Grandmere's eyes. I've been pretty alright these past few years. Aside from the constant pain in my knee from curtsying, and the good exercise Grandmere's many meat courses give my upchuck reflex, I think I've been personally alright too.

Michael had always seemed convinced that it was us against Genovia. There were times I wasn't even sure if he remembered that I wasn't just his little girlfriend, but princess to over 50,000 people. You think it'd be hard to forget that.

Which is why I'm pretty grateful we broke up when we did. Can you imagine him walking in on my coronation and being all, "Wait, what?"

Definitely not Prince Consort material.

So the Private Genovian Jet was quite somber when we finally arrived on Genovian soil. I hastened to remind Michael of how welcoming my grandmother always is.

"You think I've forgotten how scary your grandma is? That's one thing that I'll never forget. The image of her shaving her armpits and then screaming at us when we walked in on her at the Plaza that time still haunts my dreams at night."

I scowled at him, trying to maintain my cool facade, even though the memory of that day made me want to laugh out loud. "And do I haunt your dreams at night too, Michael?"

He looked shocked for a second. Then he picked up his hand luggage and walked past me out the door without a word. Olivia was already outside with an attendant.

I sighed and followed him out, shielding my eyes from the bright Genovian sun. I swear, sometimes I think Genovia is on its own little planet, revolving only about 2 feet from the sun. Grandmere is of the opinion that the planets revolve around her.

Fortunately my hand also shielded me from seeing the shocked look on Grandmere's face when she saw Michael standing there. Grandmere shocked is not a pretty sight. Her eyes bulge out, making the eyeliner tattoos even scarier, and she gains about fifty new wrinkles. It's why Grandmere always tells me to expect the unexpected. That way, you won't look totally unattractive to the press and others.

"Amelia," she said sternly. "Come here, please."

"Bonjour, Grandmere," I said, kissing her on both cheeks. It never harms to suck up a little when anticipating the Wrath of Grandmere.

"What is...that boy doing here? You were just supposed to collect the child, not the father too!" Her French was fast and I struggled to comprehend it. Usually she talks in English to me, since I always struggle with French, but I guess she doesn't want Michael over hearing.

I don't think it would be wise to point out that Michael speaks French, Spanish and Portuguese more fluently than I ever will.

"There were some...complications. The only way I could get Olivia here was if Michael came too."

She shook her head and muttered that it was completely unacceptable. "Well you could have at least told me this over the phone when you told me you haven't told the child who she is yet. Some warning would be appreciated, Amelia. And while we're on the subject, keeping the child in the dark about you, and about her role in the family, is NOT what I recommend."

"Sorry, Grandmere," I said, hanging my head slightly. I'd been wondering when Grandmere would snap back into her usual self. The pity party she threw me after my hysterectomy could only last so long. And it wasn't about to beat the record of my dad's 21st, where—rumor has it—Grandmere ended the night by climbing atop the piano and belting out "Total Eclipse of the Heart."

My dad keeps the key to the liquor cabinet now.

"Yes, well...we'll rectify the situation later. Come along."

She turned around and headed for a long, black stretch limo. I motioned for Michael and Olivia to follow us.

"I see your Grandmother still adores me," Michael said mockingly.

"She just wasn't expecting you, is all."

"Don't sugar coat it, Mia. I heard her. I probably heard her better than you since you were never too good with your French."

"Don't pretend you still know me, Michael," I said bluntly, even though he's totally right about my French. "In fact, don't pretend like you ever knew me."

With that, I slid into the limo and turned away from him as he clambered in beside me.

-

I pushed open the huge oak doors to the front of the castle and stepped inside, leaving it open for Grandmere, Michael, Olivia and the guys carrying our bags behind me.

Grandmere pushed past me and stomped off towards dad's office. She hasn't spoken a word since she bit my head off at the airport. The luggage carriers walked past too after I told them to set Michael and Olivia up in the Blue room.

"Still looks the same," Michael commented. I forgot that he's been here before. A few times actually when I was younger and thought I couldn't live a few weeks without him. Ha, what a fool I was; I've been doing perfectly fine without him the last six years.

"Yep," I agreed, looking around the dark, cold lobby. "Centuries old castles tend to stay the same after a while. You know, to preserve it or whatever."

He nodded and picked Olivia up so she could see more of her surroundings.

"Welcome back!" a jovial voice announced from the top of the stair landing. "How was it?"

I looked up to see Rene bounding down the stairs, taking them two by two.

God, doesn't he ever go home?

I started to reply, when he cut me off. He'd reached our level by then.

"Is this her?" he gasped, standing right in front of Michael, who was holding Olivia. He reached out and fingered a lock of her long, blonde hair. "Wow, Mia. She looks just like you."

I stepped forwards to hold him back from her, because she was pulling away. And also to stop him from saying something he shouldn't say in front of her, since she doesn't know why she should look like me at all.

"She's gorgeous," he continued. "Aren't you, darlin'? Are you having fun with your mommy?"

"Rene!" I hissed, finally grabbing him by the arm and pulling him away. "She doesn't know!"

"Doesn't know what?" he asked innocently, looking from me to Michael. "Jeez, Mia, you weren't supposed to bring daddy with you, Grandmere's gonna kill you."

"I'M going to kill YOU," I stressed, looking worriedly at Olivia. Did she understand what Rene meant?

My heart stopped as she whispered something in Michael's ear.

"No, honey," Michael said, sneaking a look back at me. "She IS your mommy."

The look on little Olivia's face was not one of love when she finally tore her face from daddy's shoulder.

Great. Is that really the best way to find out who your estranged mother is?

Tell me what you think!