Chapter 5
Ideserve to live out of the shadows.
Myra’s words have echoed in my mind repeatedly since our conversation that night. It’s bringing up old feelings I thought I’d healed from. But maybe ignoring them is a better way to put it.
Deep down, I know she’s right, but a part of me is absolutely terrified. I don’t think I’d do well, living as Cirella Chamberlain, not the way it is now. With the glitz and glamour and showboating.
Growing up, I lived an incredibly ordinary life with my dad, not knowing the wealth that hid in our bank accounts. We weren’t flashy people.
He shielded me from the spotlight his aristocratic role in society illuminated. My photo was never in a paper or an article. No one knew where we lived or even my name.
As far as the world is concerned, Patrick Chamberlain was a childless man without any living family, aside from the new wife he left behind.
It used to hurt my feelings that he didn’t want to bring me to any events or that he didn’t want to tell the world about me. But the older I get, the more I understand his decision to do so.
Especially after seeing how affected Adrianna is by money, status, and the life the Kensingtons live—with vultures at their feet.
He saved me from that, a gift I never knew I was receiving.
Even after his death, the articles only told a story of a businessman whose life was dedicated to bettering the world. They weren’t wrong. It just wasn’t the entire story.
I’ll still never be able to understand how a man so intelligent and kind could fall under an evil witch’s spell. Maybe that’s it. Maybe she has powers over men. That must be how she’s convinced Everett to marry her.
Guilt gnaws at my chest for my playing a part in her plan, for my agreeing to fool this innocent family. But I don’t have a choice if I want to get the deed to my parents’ home. It’s only for another month, until the wedding, and then I’ll be free from her grasp once and for all.
I’ll probably stay at the Kensingtons’ mansion and keep my job because it’s far too good of an opportunity to pass up, but there won’t be ties between Adrianna and me anymore.
A knock sounds on my bedroom door, and my stepmother’s voice calls out. I may not be able to see her through the door, but I can practically visualize the mocking smirk as she says my fake last name.
“Ms. Matthews.”
Could she tell I was thinking about her? Jesus.
Moping over to the door, I twist the knob and pull it open. Let’s get this over with.
“Could you have moved slower?” She looks back and forth down the hallway, worried someone will dare see her here in the peasants’ wing.
Instantly, I let her inside, my lips sealed shut.
She gasps as I shut the door behind her, her attention locked on my hard work.
I can see the moment she takes the gown in, her eyes twinkling in response. My heart does a somersault in my chest.
I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.
I hate that I still care what she thinks. That there’s a part of me who believes she may be redeemable when I know she’s not.
“Oh, it’s magnificent. Hurry, help me try it on.” She fusses out of her clothes, down to her undergarments, desperate to get into the gown I made her for her masquerade engagement party tonight.
Layers of fabric cascade over the dress form. Thousands of beads and gems decorate the straps and bodice before fading down the skirt of the dress.
I’m pretty proud of this piece, if I’m honest with myself. Sure, there are things I would likely tweak a second time around, but given the time frame I had and limited materials, I think I did a damn good job.
Hearing her compliment, as messed up as it is, brings me an unsettling warmth. I shouldn’t want her approval. She’s horrible and crude. Yet a part of me, deep inside, craves it anyway.
She steps into the gown, pulling the delicate straps up over her shoulders, and I immediately get to work on zipping her up and securing the overlaying beads across the zipper.
Her head turns toward where the white feathered mask sits on the desk.
“I can add more gems or beads if you’d like.”
Stop being nice, Cirella. Come on. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
“We’ll see once it’s on.” She pauses not a second, her patience growing thin. “How much longer?”
I fasten the final button and step back. “Done.”
Slipping the mask over her dark hair and eyes, she walks over to the small mirror hanging on the back of my door. “The mirror is too small, Cirella. I can’t see the entire ensemble.”
As if I have any control over that.
She could’ve tried this on in her room with help from her assistant, Riley. Lord knows why that woman could possibly need an assistant, but I digress.
Knowing that she simply wants to complain, not have a genuine conversation, I let her be for a moment to take it all in.
She sways side to side and spins, getting a view of the dress from all angles. She tries to hide it, but I can see the giddiness in her eyes. The kind a little girl gets when playing dress-up for the first time.
This is why I love fashion and why I love creating pieces—for moments like this. I want to be the fairy godmother for everyone else, bringing their inner child out.
“This will do,” she mutters, her face falling flat.
At least some things never change.
“Good. I’m glad.” I smile softly, admiring how flawlessly this fits her.
The seams are precise. Not a strand or stitch out of place. It may be my best work yet.
That’s saying something, given the fact that I’ve made her wardrobe for the last few years, since she discovered my hidden talent.
She had left me no choice but to learn how to sew when she refused to buy me proper-fitting clothes as I got older. I had to alter the ones I had in order to create new pieces.
“Undo it now,” she orders, showing me her back.
I quickly get to work, the question of our previous deal on the tip of my tongue. I made this dress in exchange for something, one of my parents’ possessions at the house.
They were collectors of art, of anything they saw beauty in, which was a lot, given their loving hearts.
But one of my favorites is their collection of glass and crystal pieces.
Some of them were passed down from my grandmother—a woman I know so much about, but didn’t have the luxury of meeting before she passed.
I miss them now more than ever, and I’ve never been allowed to take anything out of the house. I’ve been granted permission to visit from time to time, but never bring anything with me.
“Does that mean you’ll let me get the three mice?” I beg, wanting to finally possess one of my mom’s most cherished pieces.
After all, she named me after her favorite fairy tale, wanting me to always remember to be kind and true. I just wish the legacy of Cinderella hadn’t hit so close to home with an evil stepmother.
At least, Adrianna didn’t have two conniving daughters. That might have been my breaking point.
Adrianna ignores me, and the silence fills the room, weighing everything down. I want to shout at her and demand answers, but I can’t. Not if I want to be on her good side.
Only once she’s free of the gown and mask does she turn to me, standing in only her Spanx, bra, and underwear.
Reaching up, she pinches my jaw in her hand. “I can’t get that to you, honey.” She pauses, and my breath freezes in my throat. “It’s already gone. Instead, I brought you this.”
Tears well in my eyes, my throat burning as she strides over to her clothes on the floor. She dresses slowly before retrieving something from the pants pocket.
I can’t tell what it is, but as she turns and stretches her hand between us, my heart sinks, crashing to the floor and breaking into a million pieces.
It’s just cruel. Malicious. No one should be so heartless and cold.
“That’s what I got for it. Junk.”
Tired of my hesitation, she throws the twenty-dollar bill at me, and I watch as it falls to the ground, racing my broken heart to the hardwood floor.
You’d think I was a statue, if not for the stream of tears running down my face.
With the gown and mask in her hands, she leaves, slamming the door behind her on her way out. I jump from the force, my stare straight ahead but unfocused.
My tears continue to fall as anger boils up inside of me.
How can she do this to me? To my family? Has she not a shred of humanity left inside of her?
Suddenly, the door flies open, and I brace for the impact of facing her again, but thankfully, it’s Jules and Myra.
Jules rushes over to me, wrapping me in her arms and cradling my head with her hand. “She’s such a bitch.”
“I’m so sorry, Cirella.” Myra’s voice is a comforting warmth I didn’t expect to penetrate so deep in my heart.
It takes a second, but after a couple of shaky breaths, I melt into Jules’s embrace, the pain in my voice surprising me. “I h-hate her so much.”
Rubbing my back up and down, she whispers into my ear, “I know.”
My heart thumps hard between us as she physically and emotionally holds me together.
Eventually, we pull apart, and I finally notice Myra standing nervously, rocking back and forth on her heels.
Jules seems off, too, as she glances at her mom, like they know something I don’t.
“What’s—what’s going on?” I stammer, unsure if I can take another blow today and stay standing.
Myra’s arms are behind her, corners of a large box sticking out from the sides. “We have something for you.”
When she reveals the glittery blue gift box, I suck in a sharp breath. “Why? I don’t need any presents.”
Her face softens, a sparkle of pity in her eyes, the kind only a mother can have. “Precisely why you deserve one the most.”
The distance closes between us as she strides forward and hands me the gift, which I carefully set on my bed. I lift the lid, sucking in the sharpest breath.
Wow.
Fabric, constructed of tiny stars plucked out of the night sky, lies folded inside. Shades of blue weave together like liquid glass, shimmering in the light.
Atop the gown sits a matching blue mask. Lace trim and sparkly swirls decorate the metallic blue. A perfect pairing.
I couldn’t have imagined anything better myself.
“It’s beautiful, Myra.” I tear my gaze from the present and find hers upturned. “This looks far too expensive for me to accept.”
She shoos away my concerns. “Don’t be silly. It only cost me the fabric.”
No way. My voice is barely audible. “You made this?”
“You aren’t the only gifted seamstress in the house,” she boasts with humility.
“It’s breathtaking, Myra.” My fingers caress the fabric, and I can see the care clearly put into this dress. “I’m not sure what you’d like me to wear this to. A bit fancy for any of my classes.”
She cocks her head to the side ever so slightly, her smile growing tenfold. “There happens to be an event tonight that you should be at. I can’t think of a better place to wear it.”
“Oh God. No, no,” I stutter. “I can’t do that.” Anxiety starts crawling up my throat. “That’s way too risky.”
She caresses my forearm, resting her hand there and brushing her thumb back and forth. “You belong there, Cirella. Not working the party or hiding in the back with the rest of us, but with the guests.”
“I don’t know about that. I think I’d look obviously out of place,” I stammer nervously, the mere thought of going nearly sending me into a spiral.
When she raises her hand to my cheek, I soften into her caress.
“Hold your head high, dear, and don’t forget who you are, Cirella Chamberlain.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “You deserve to be there more than her. Don’t let her convince you otherwise.”
My eyes well up with tears for a whole new reason.
I nod, my reaction taking me by surprise. “I—”
“Just think about it, okay? The dress and mask are yours regardless.” She lowers her hand to my arm, squeezing gently.
When she opens her arms for a hug, my heart jumps into my throat. It’s been a long time since I had a good, deep hug from a mom, even if she’s not mine.
The second I move forward, she pulls me in, squeezing me, and the back of my throat starts burning.
Something crinkles beneath my foot, and it dawns on me that it’s the twenty-dollar bill Adrianna threw at me. The bill she gave me instead of one of my parents’ prized possessions. One she was well aware I wanted for myself.
It may not be worth thousands, but it was priceless to me. Now it’s gone.
Gus, a tiny white mouse friend I made a few days ago, suddenly appears at my side. I found scurrying in the hallway and I brought him in my room and offered him food. We’ve been inseparable ever since.
Maybe he’s been there for a minute, offering his support, and I didn’t notice until now.
“Hi, buddy.” I sniffle, bending down to pick him up.
“Is he”—Myra’s wide eyes show her hesitancy, but she smiles—“your friend?”
“This is Gus.” I give him a small kiss on his tiny head. “One of my best friends.”
Jules gasps, not of fear, but of adoration. “Oh my gosh, is he wearing a shirt?”
I adjust the material on his back, as it rode up, fixing the pastel-green hoodie I made him. “He sure is. He can’t be running around naked. That’d be absurd.”
Jules and Myra giggle, and for a moment, I feel light as a feather with my three best friends. It’s at this second that I know what my decision will be for tonight.
“I’m going to need a little help,” I beam, watching both of their faces light up.
“Of course, my lady.” Jules playfully curtsies, winking at me. “Anything you need.”