The weeks passed in a haze of calculated moves and quiet triumphs. Cinderella's covert partnership with Dr. Cole had begun to take shape. The evidence was stacking up, the testimony was coming together, and the hope that had once felt like a fragile thread was slowly solidifying into something far more tangible.
But even amidst her growing sense of purpose, there was one person who remained a constant source of distraction—Silvester.
At first, Cinderella had convinced herself that her bond with Silvester was nothing more than a friendship. They had been through too much together—had shared too many quiet moments and long conversations about life, about the future, about everything and nothing. But recently, there had been a shift. Silvester had been increasingly attentive, more concerned than usual about her well-being. He was starting to notice the small things—the way Cinderella would flinch at certain words, the way she avoided talking about her family, and the way she seemed constantly exhausted.
It hadn't escaped his notice either that Penelope had been growing bolder in her manipulations. Silvester had always been skeptical of his sister's behavior, but he had never fully understood the extent of it. He saw the petty quarrels, the passive-aggressive comments, but it wasn't until he began to notice how Penelope would often set up Cinderella—either by making her the target of her cruel remarks or by twisting events to make Cinderella appear in the wrong—that his suspicions truly grew.
It started with one comment, and then another. Silvester had always believed his sister was just a little too dramatic, a little too obsessed with appearances. But lately, it was as if a darker side of Penelope was coming to light.
One evening, as Cinderella sat in the living room, her nose buried in a textbook, Silvester entered the room, his brow furrowed. He looked at her for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. The tension in his posture was almost palpable.
"Cinderella," he said softly, taking a seat beside her. "We need to talk."
Cinderella's heart skipped, but she forced a smile, setting her textbook aside. "About what?"
Silvester hesitated. He glanced over at Penelope, who was lounging on the couch, absorbed in her phone. It was clear she hadn't noticed the serious conversation unfolding right in front of her. The only sound in the room was the distant hum of the television, the noise of an advert playing on mute.
"Is everything alright between you and Penelope?" Silvester asked carefully, keeping his voice neutral but his gaze sharp.
Cinderella blinked, caught off guard by the question. "What do you mean?" she asked, trying to sound casual. But her heart began to race as she had an inkling where this conversation was headed.
Silvester looked over at Penelope again, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I've noticed… things." He sighed, as if unsure how to express his growing suspicions. "She's been treating you differently, Cinderella. And I can't help but wonder… is it just me, or is she manipulating you?"
The word sent a jolt through Cinderella's chest. Manipulating? She had suspected Penelope for a long time now, but hearing Silvester—someone she had known for years—say it aloud, was something entirely different. It confirmed what she had been quietly dreading.
Cinderella opened her mouth, but no words came. How could she answer him without exposing too much? How could she explain the full scope of Penelope's cruelty without involving him too deeply?
Silvester leaned forward, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone. "Look, I've seen how she twists things. How she makes it look like you're the one causing problems when all she's doing is playing games." He paused, letting the words sink in. "You've been so focused on surviving, I don't think you've noticed, but I have. She's not as innocent as she pretends to be."
Cinderella was silent for a long time, letting his words hang in the air like an unspoken truth. Silvester had always been perceptive, but this was different. His tone wasn't just concerned—it was laced with doubt. He had seen through Penelope's façade, and now, she couldn't hide it any longer.
"I've known for a while," Cinderella admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I had to be careful. I couldn't risk making things worse."
Silvester looked at her, his expression softening. "What do you mean, 'making things worse'?"
Cinderella hesitated, then slowly met his gaze. "Penelope isn't the person you think she is. She's been playing you, Silvester—playing both of us. She manipulates situations, twists the truth, and makes me out to be the problem when, in reality, she's the one causing the chaos."
Silvester's face shifted as the weight of her words sunk in. He opened his mouth to say something but paused, as if trying to process what she had just told him.
"I didn't want to believe it," he said, his voice barely audible. "I thought maybe she was just going through a phase, but now... now I see it. I've been blind."
Cinderella reached out, touching his arm gently. "You're not blind, Silvester. You've just been caught up in it. It's not easy to see the truth when it's right in front of you, especially when it's someone you care about."
He nodded slowly, his face etched with regret. "I wish I'd seen it sooner. I could've helped."
"You are helping," Cinderella replied, her voice firm. "Just by believing me. That's all I need right now. That's all any of us need."
There was a long silence between them as Silvester absorbed what she had said. Finally, he sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "What do we do now?"
"We keep going," Cinderella said with quiet determination. "I have a plan. I'm gathering evidence—proof of everything that's been happening. Once we have enough, we'll expose her. But for now, I need you to keep an eye out. Watch how she behaves, what she says, and who she talks to. We can't afford to make a misstep."
Silvester looked at her, a mixture of admiration and guilt in his eyes. "You really have been handling everything on your own, haven't you?"
Cinderella smiled faintly. "I didn't have a choice."
The room felt a little lighter after that conversation. Silvester's trust in her, his newfound awareness of Penelope's manipulation, was the first step in dismantling the carefully constructed web that Penelope had woven around their lives. For the first time in a long while, Cinderella felt that she wasn't alone in this battle. She had someone in her corner—someone who knew the truth.
---
The next day, as the sun began to set, the buzz of the household shifted. The holiday was finally over for Stephen, and he was returning to school. His brief break had been filled with subtle tension—his family's ongoing dysfunction, and his quiet, brooding presence, had only added to the pressure. Cinderella hadn't expected him to leave so suddenly, but as he packed his things into the back of the car, she couldn't help but feel a wave of relief.
Stephen had been a constant source of anxiety. Though his aggression had lessened over the past few weeks, it was clear he still harbored a deep-seated anger. It was almost as if he were on the edge of something—something she couldn't quite place.
As he loaded the last of his bags into the trunk, he turned toward Cinderella, his expression unreadable. "I'll be back sooner than you can imagine," he said, the words seemingly lacking emotion. "Don't expect any drama."
"Good luck with your studies," Cinderella said quietly, forcing a smile.
He didn't respond, just gave a brief nod before sliding into the front seat. Penelope, who had been glued to her phone, finally looked up and shot a glance at Cinderella, her eyes hard and calculating.
But Cinderella didn't care anymore. She had something bigger on her mind now. A plan. A strategy. The pieces were slowly falling into place, and soon, the web of lies would unravel.
As the driver drove off into the distance, Cinderella turned to Silvester, who stood beside her.
"He's gone," he said quietly. "Do you feel better?"
Cinderella nodded. "I do. It's one less obstacle."
But she knew better than to feel completely at ease. This was far from over. And as long as Penelope was still in the picture, there was always the chance of more manipulation, more lies. But at least now, she had allies—people who saw through the deception, people who could help her fight back, people who stood by her to embrace her into their arms.
And that, for the first time in a long time, gave her hope.