The Cinderella Project: A Betrayal, A Fortune

The Cinderella Project: A Betrayal, A Fortune

Gavin

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I was just a diligent sales associate, trying to make ends meet in a luxury boutique on Rodeo Drive. After refusing a notoriously cruel socialite's outrageous demands, I was unexpectedly offered a breathtaking new life by charming billionaire Ethan Vanderbilt. No more retail hell, just endless luxury. I accepted, clinging to it as a desperate chance for my family to escape East LA's struggles. But then, a chilling message flashed on his unlocked phone: "How's our little Cinderella project coming along, E? Is she suitably dazzled yet? Can't wait for the one-year mark. Payback's a bitch. ;)" My heart seized. The "fairy tale" wasn't a rescue; it was a cruel, elaborate game orchestrated by the very socialite I'd defied. I was the unwitting star of their 'Cinderella project,' a pawn meant to be adorned, built up, then publicly crushed. Every lavish gift, every forced laugh at their condescending jokes, every demeaning glance from their elite circle felt like a tightening chain. I was just their entertainment, watched by snickering socialites on a private 'countdown' account, cheering for my inevitable downfall. They thought I was easily manipulated, a poor girl blinded by glitz and glamor. How could they be so callously cruel, playing with someone's entire future? But beneath the shock, a fierce defiance ignited. This wasn't just their bet; it was my fight for survival. A cold, determined smile touched my lips. Okay, Vanderbilts and Van der Woodsens. Let's play. I would use their money, their arrogance, their connections against them. By the time they realized what was happening, I wouldn't just survive their game; I'd build an empire on its ashes. My empire. My rules.

Introduction

I was just a diligent sales associate, trying to make ends meet in a luxury boutique on Rodeo Drive.

After refusing a notoriously cruel socialite's outrageous demands, I was unexpectedly offered a breathtaking new life by charming billionaire Ethan Vanderbilt.

No more retail hell, just endless luxury.

I accepted, clinging to it as a desperate chance for my family to escape East LA's struggles.

But then, a chilling message flashed on his unlocked phone: "How's our little Cinderella project coming along, E? Is she suitably dazzled yet? Can't wait for the one-year mark. Payback's a bitch. ;)"

My heart seized.

The "fairy tale" wasn't a rescue; it was a cruel, elaborate game orchestrated by the very socialite I'd defied.

I was the unwitting star of their 'Cinderella project,' a pawn meant to be adorned, built up, then publicly crushed.

Every lavish gift, every forced laugh at their condescending jokes, every demeaning glance from their elite circle felt like a tightening chain.

I was just their entertainment, watched by snickering socialites on a private 'countdown' account, cheering for my inevitable downfall.

They thought I was easily manipulated, a poor girl blinded by glitz and glamor.

How could they be so callously cruel, playing with someone's entire future?

But beneath the shock, a fierce defiance ignited.

This wasn't just their bet; it was my fight for survival.

A cold, determined smile touched my lips.

Okay, Vanderbilts and Van der Woodsens.

Let's play.

I would use their money, their arrogance, their connections against them.

By the time they realized what was happening, I wouldn't just survive their game; I'd build an empire on its ashes.

My empire.

My rules.

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I'm Divorcing with You, Mr Billionaire!

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I received a pornographic video. "Do you like this?" The man speaking in the video is my husband, Mark, whom I haven't seen for several months. He is naked, his shirt and pants scattered on the ground, thrusting forcefully on a woman whose face I can't see, her plump and round breasts bouncing vigorously. I can clearly hear the slapping sounds in the video, mixed with lustful moans and grunts. "Yes, yes, fuck me hard, baby," the woman screams ecstatically in response. "You naughty girl!" Mark stands up and flips her over, slapping her buttocks as he speaks. "Stick your ass up!" The woman giggles, turns around, sways her buttocks, and kneels on the bed. I feel like someone has poured a bucket of ice water on my head. It's bad enough that my husband is having an affair, but what's worse is that the other woman is my own sister, Bella. ************************************************************************************************************************ "I want to get a divorce, Mark," I repeated myself in case he didn't hear me the first time-even though I knew he'd heard me clearly. He stared at me with a frown before answering coldly, "It's not up to you! I'm very busy, don't waste my time with such boring topics, or try to attract my attention!" The last thing I was going to do was argue or bicker with him. "I will have the lawyer send you the divorce agreement," was all I said, as calmly as I could muster. He didn't even say another word after that and just went through the door he'd been standing in front of, slamming it harshly behind him. My eyes lingered on the knob of the door a bit absentmindedly before I pulled the wedding ring off my finger and placed it on the table. I grabbed my suitcase, which I'd already had my things packed in and headed out of the house.

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