Cinderella Meets Prince Charming

Once, Ella Hart walked on marble floors like a princess.

Now, she scrubbed them on her knees.

The grand chandelier above the Hart estate still sparkled, just as it had when her father was alive. But the light no longer warmed her soul-it only cast sharp reflections on the cold tiles she cleaned every morning before the household awoke.

"You're not to be seen when Mr. Blackwell arrives tonight," snapped Vivian Hart, her stepmother, descending the stairs in heels that clicked like a countdown to doom. Her tone was laced with venom and vodka. "This is a private dinner. No maids. Especially not you."

Ella swallowed hard, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yes, ma'am."

She had learned not to protest. Her father's death six years ago had been the end of her freedom-and the beginning of her servitude.

Once the darling of Manhattan's elite, she was now the forgotten girl in rags. Her once-glamorous life reduced to hand-me-downs, chores, and the cruel laughter of her stepsisters, Clara and Ivy.

She wore her pain in silence, her beauty hidden under baggy clothes and frizzy buns. No one noticed her. And that was exactly how her stepmother wanted it.

But deep down, Ella dreamed.

Of freedom.

Of fashion.

Of love.

And sometimes-only sometimes-of revenge.

---

By evening, the mansion glittered like a diamond under moonlight. Velvet curtains, golden plates, and endless bottles of imported champagne lined the table.

Tonight's guest?

Liam Blackwell.

Billionaire CEO. Manhattan's coldest, richest prince.

And her stepmother's latest scheme.

Vivian was desperate to marry one of her daughters into the Blackwell empire. She had pulled every string to get Liam to agree to this dinner. Now, Clara and Ivy fluttered down the stairs in designer gowns, their lips painted red like blood, ready to throw themselves at the man who could change their lives forever.

Ella, meanwhile, watched from the hallway shadows.