Chapter 7
This is insane. An absolutely horrible, idiotic, reckless decision. One that I can’t help but to be stupidly excited about.
My reflection stares back at me in the small mirror in my room, and I barely recognize the girl I see. From the gorgeous dress to my perfect makeup, flawless manicure, and curled hair with the pastel-blue clip-ins, I look like a whole other person … but I think … I like it.
Maybe if I look like a different person, I may act like one too. Someone who holds their head up high, someone who doesn’t silence her laugh to avoid attention, someone who lets loose and enjoys themselves.
I could be a different version of myself tonight, still a genuine one, still me … but different.
I was worried about my stepmother recognizing me, but those worries have waned since my makeover. Jules and Myra took me to a salon in town, one my stepmother would never step foot in.
While they were getting me ready, a thought came to me. If I am to be Cinderella in this wicked tale, then perhaps Jules and Myra are my fairy godmothers. They might as well have a magic wand with everything they’ve done for me tonight.
After visiting The Golden Wand Salon, they snuck me back into the mansion, and I’ve been hiding out in my room since, mesmerized by the transformation.
Myra even lent me some heels, a perfect pairing to the gown, since I didn’t have anything that would suit me or the dress. Thankfully, we’re the same size.
“It’s me,” Jules calls out before opening my door. Her eyes are big and hopeful, and suddenly, I feel like I might puke. “Are you ready?”
“No,” I say immediately, and my body temperature spikes a thousand degrees at the panic overtaking me. “I don’t think I can do this. She’s going to know it’s me.”
“Babe, I barely know it’s you,” she scoffs. “Seriously, you look incredible, and you’re going to have a great night dancing with rich, hot guys. If you won’t do it for you, then do it for me because I’m going to be living vicariously through you the entire time.”
I sigh heavily. I know I’m just scared and nervous—and not just because Adrianna might recognize me.
I’m terrified that I might go up there and actually enjoy myself. Because if I do, then what?
Tomorrow, I’ll go back to being a servant, and I’ll know exactly what I’m missing if it wasn’t for her coming into my life.
She didn’t have to keep me a secret, like my dad always had. In part, my dad helped her with that, given his privacy and protection all these years. It was easy for her to sweep me under the rug and keep me there.
I just can’t decide if tonight will feel more like freedom or punishment. But I do know that I owe it to Jules and her mom for all they’ve done for me. And I also owe it to myself.
Besides, it’s not like it’ll be like this forever, only until the wedding. Then she’ll give me the house and the few thousand dollars left of my inheritance.
The mere thought of her fuels the fire inside of me, one I usually do my best to ignore. She doesn’t deserve free rent in my head.
My internal pep talk does wonders, and as my eyes meet my reflection in the mirror, I’m standing a little taller than before. “I’m ready.”
Jules shrieks, “That’s my girl. Now come on. Go find yourself a prince.”
I roll my eyes. “I am not going for that.”
“Like I said … vicariously. Find one for me then.” She laughs, closing the distance and pulling me into a hug. “I love you, Cirella. You’re going to do great.”
My heart melts, and I sink into her embrace, feeling my eyes burn. I blink the sting away as much as I can.
“I love you too. Thank you guys for this,” I murmur, my words thick with emotion.
“Hush.” She pulls away, grabbing my shoulders and holding me gently. “Now go up there, look her dead in the eye, and walk on by … or punch her in the face. Either works.”
I chuckle, slipping my mask back down over my eyes. “I will.”
My heels click on the floor as I stride toward the door.
“Cirella?” Jules calls.
“Yeah?” I turn back.
“Don’t forget, you have to be back by midnight,” she tells me as if I’m not the one who told her about Adrianna’s scheduled check-in after the fireworks.
“I won’t be late.”
I sneak up through the staff entrance, running into coworkers who see me every day. Not a single one of them recognizes me. Some even step aside, calling me miss and treating me like an actual guest at the party.
I can’t believe this is really going to work.
Desperate to avoid the announcer who is introducing every guest, like one would at a fairy-tale ball, stating their first and last name and association to the family, I enter through a side hallway.
Adrianna did way too much for this engagement party. It’s far too extravagant. I mean, you’d think actual royalty was getting engaged by the grandiose of it all.
Just a little bit farther down this hallway, and I should be entering the party right beneath the grand staircase that overlooks the foyer. The chatter and live orchestra grow louder as I round the corner, stepping into a whole new world.
My breathing slows, and my eyes devour as much as they can. I’ve worked in this place for a little over a month, and it’s like I’m seeing it all for the first time.
The giant chandelier that hangs in the center of the sky-high room glistens more than ever. The air seems lighter, brighter even.
It’s like I’ve stepped straight onto the set of a Bridgerton ball, florals filling every space, music humming through the room, and a sense of magic in the air.
I never would’ve been here without Jules and Myra. I wish they could enjoy it at my side. They deserve it as much as me.
Next time, I mentally promise them. When this whole deal with my stepmother is done. They deserve to live out of the shadows too.
Every guest followed the dress code, their faces covered from their unique masquerade masks.
I’d like to know how much money was spent dressing everyone tonight. From the lavish gowns and tuxes to the diamonds, gold, and silver dripping from everyone’s wrists, neck, and ears.
My fingers brush my collarbone, barren of any jewels. But I don’t mind, the dress and mask are sparkly enough on their own.
Guests begin turning their heads. I follow, and my blood runs cold, any confidence I had a moment ago leaving my body.
It’s Adrianna.
God, she certainly looks the part of a doting bride-to-be.
She’s decked out head to toe in all the things that I made her. Countless hours upon hours, grinding myself down to the bone to ensure it’d be ready on the tight deadline she had given me.
Anger begins boiling beneath the surface of my skin. I hate her so much.
Most of my time is spent forcing myself to not think of her, to not allow myself to get worked up.
But standing here, hearing every ooh and aah as she walks by, people unaware of the monster she really is, makes me want to burn it all to the ground.
But no matter how much I wish her torment, I could never do so myself. I know I don’t have it within me. Karma will sort her out in due time.
Her eyes skate along the room, getting closer and closer to me.
My heart rate kicks up as her gaze drifts across me. It flicks back for a moment, studying my face. But a second later, she moves on, not batting an eye.
I feel nearly invincible.
I can be and act however I want, and no one will know who I am by tomorrow.
Something settles within me—a calmness that feels foreign but comforting. I can do whatever I wish tonight without consequence.
The problem is … I don’t know who I want to be. Who am I without limitations and rules? I’ve never been set free like this.
I could be brave and dance with a thousand men. Or I could watch from the shadows and take it all in, like I’m doing right now.
I could run around the gardens and make a fool of myself, and none of it would matter because no one would know who I was.
Regardless, the choice is mine and mine alone. That’s what matters most.
Let’s start with a little walk through the room.
Head high. Chin up. Be confident.
I got this.
When I take a step forward, my breath freezes in my throat, all of the blood in my body pooling to my feet.
Oh God, I totally do not have this.
“Cheese stuffed olive, dear?” Steven, one of my coworkers on the Kensington staff, offers me an hors d’oeuvre.
I politely decline. “No, thank you.”
He seems to home in on me more sharply, like he recognizes my voice or me in some way.
But without a word, he nods and carries on.
I hold my breath until he’s gone, moving on to the next guest, handing out the food on his tray until it’s completely empty.
I can’t believe he didn’t know it was me.
I’ve worked with him pretty much every day since I started.
We haven’t spoken much since then, only in passing.
But still, I’m in disbelief that this mask and a few colored extensions have changed me so much.
Although ninety-nine percent of it is likely my demeanor.
Taking a few deep breaths, I relax my shoulders and step fully into the room, letting the light wash over me.
I move across the floor with purpose and drive, even though, secretly, I have no idea where I’m going.
The room is crowded. Couples are dancing, and others are mingling and laughing at each other’s terrible jokes. Every conversation I pass seems to be focused on money or status, and it’s all so exhausting.
Minutes later, as I desperately search for a topic with more meaning, my hope dwindles.
I’ve never felt more joy that I stand out in a room like this. At least I’m not as self-centered and vain as most of them.
Heading down a hallway toward one of the dining rooms—if you can even call a space this large a dining room—I find Adrianna and Everett dancing, holding each other lovingly as they sway back and forth.
No massive audience. No cameras. A moment shared with only a few onlooking guests.
My jaw clenches, and a metallic burst hits my tongue.