Cinderella wants revenge.
Cyndi Osmond, nicknamed Cinderella by her cruel stepsisters, is dismayed when she realizes what she thought was her happy ending was only a dream. Worse, her stepsister Charlotte, who has just returned from the royal ball, won Prince Xavier's hand and will marry him.
When Charlotte becomes the princess, she forces Cyndi to move to the palace with her as her maid and plans to make her life miserable. Cyndi meets Prince Xavier one day and secretly develops an infatuation with him, although she is aware that she cannot marry him. However, she soon discovers a scandalous affair between Charlotte and the Grand Duke. With the secret weighing on her, Cyndi makes a decision that will change her destiny and embarks on a journey of revenge.
14+ due to adult situations
Excerpt:
For what felt like my whole life, I knew nothing but misery and despair. My mother died when I was a baby, and my father, who longed to fill the void of loneliness in me, remarried so that I’d have a stepmother to love me and stepsisters to play with. His intentions were kind, but the thought proved to be too naive. Lady Briary, my stepmother—now Lady Osmond—did not love me, and neither did her two daughters from her previous marriage—Charlotte and Beatrice. After a terrible illness claimed my father, they made me their slave.
Three months ago, when the king issued a royal decree to hold a ball for his son, they forbade me from attending the event. Had it not been for my fairy godmother, I never would have made it, and Prince Xavier never would have found my glass slipper. I thought it was over, that I should be content enough with the memory of the joyful evening I’d spent dancing with the prince, but he found me. He went to the ends of the earth just to find me and ask for my hand in marriage. Was that not a mark of a true romantic? If that wasn’t enough to prove his devotion to me, he was unfazed when he learned of my true identity. My lack of social status posed no threat to our thriving romance. He loved me unreservedly and unconditionally. It was the best kind of love.
Smiling, I raised my eyes to meet Prince Xavier’s. They were so soft, so bright, like the first rays of a new dawn. His hair was blond like mine, and his irises were the same sea blue as Papa’s. In a violet frock coat with silver embroidery, he stood tall and proud beside me. The thought of spending forever with him made me blissfully dizzy. Before I met him, I hadn’t believed in love at first sight, but since that magical evening, he had engraved himself into my permanent memory. Even if he never found me, I would never forget him, never forget that mesmerizing ball and the euphoria pulsing through me as we danced.
“Cyndi.” My name poured from Prince Xavier’s lips like honey trickling into a steaming cup of tea. That low, husky voice alone could melt me.
“I love you,” I told him, sealing the vows we exchanged earlier with an ardent kiss.
However, the moment my mouth encountered his, he vanished into thin air. Bewildered, I clutched his hand tighter, but the more desperately I struggled to hold on, the faster everything around me dissolved. The colors jumbled and blended together, and the shapes and silhouettes blurred, fading out of focus. Everything around me disintegrated, and the familiar sensation of falling consumed me.
I jolted awake, finding myself in the attic. The lantern beside me was still alight, the candle in it still flickering. Outside the window, a breeze rustled in the leaves. Everything was eerily silent, as if foreshadowing the arrival of something sinister.
For a few moments, I sat on my straw bed, my mind spinning. How could it be? My fairy godmother, the pumpkin carriage, the dance with Prince Xavier, the glass slippers, how he had found me among the sea of unmarried maidens in the Kingdom of Cerulena … it was all a dream?
Reality collided with my mind like a boulder. I lay in the semi-darkness, mourning the loss of the beautiful dream. Disappointment flooded me as my heart ached. Tears stung in my eyes. I wiped them away angrily. Somehow, my mind had suspended its disbelief, rationalized the impossible, and convinced me that magic existed. How could I have been so foolish? There was no way I could have attended the royal ball. It was no place for a pathetic servant girl like me. Furthermore, fairies did not exist, and neither did pumpkin carriages nor glass slippers.
Stepmother, Charlotte, and Beatrice were there now. I had entertained the wild idea of making a dress for myself at the last minute and sneaking off to the ball, but I’d fallen asleep before I could put my plan into action. The heap of blue fabric I’d purchased lay in a heap before my bed. If only my fatigue hadn’t defeated me…
A glance at the clock told me that it was thirty minutes past midnight. Sighing, I dragged myself to my feet. Stepmother and my stepsisters would be home in an hour, I supposed. Charlotte ordered me to change her bedsheets before she was back. She would be furious at me if I failed to finish my chores in time.
Entering her room, I caught a glimpse of myself in her tall, elliptical mirror. My honey-blonde hair trailed down my shoulders in messy curls. Cinders and ash painted my pale face an ugly shade of gray. My sapphire-blue eyes stared at my reflection, reminding me of ice crystals, faraway glaciers, and winter wonderlands. Everything about me—my skinny limbs, my brown dress that sported a myriad of patches, and my soiled stockings—reflected my lowly status as a maid. To think I would even be granted entry into the palace was folly.
I removed the bedsheet on Charlotte’s tall, canopied bed and folded it. Somewhere in the distance, a carriage clattered to a stop. A few seconds passed, then—
“We’re home!” Charlotte’s loud, shrill voice penetrated the almost-solid silence of the house.
Cursing under my breath, I straightened the new bedsheet and grabbed the used one. My brown boots clicked as I ran downstairs. The three of them were already at the doorway. Charlotte was dancing in the foyer, the train of her red velvet gown trailing behind her. Beatrice was beaming, and even Stepmother seemed to be in a good mood.
“Well done,” she purred, ruffling Charlotte’s reddish-brown hair. “Well done, my darling.”
“Cinderella!” Charlotte squealed in falsetto. “You’ll never guess what happened tonight!”
I donned a polite smile. “What happened?”
Charlotte grinned. “Prince Xavier chose me! He proposed to me after the ball in front of King Mitchell and Queen Kiera!”
Everything in my world froze. I opened my mouth and closed it, at a loss for words. A mixture of emotions churned in me—disbelief, envy, and sadness. Fighting my shock, I widened my smile. “Congratulations! I’m happy for you.”
Charlotte laughed. “You should be. As the princess-to-be, I’m bringing you to the palace along with me.”
My smile froze and wilted. Horror drenched me like a bucket of ice-cold water.
“I’m bringing you to the palace to serve me for life, Cinderella,” Charlotte repeated. “The king said I was allowed to bring a maid along, so I’d have a trusted personal attendant with me at all times. Very kind of him, isn’t it?”
She might as well have slapped me. I felt as if I had been cast outside into a raging thunderstorm. Opening my mouth, I fumbled for words, but none rose to my tongue. The palace. I was about to leave my house and move to the palace with my stepsister.
