The soft hum of traffic outside Cinderella's dorm room window was the only sound that kept her grounded. She sat cross-legged on her bed, surrounded by scattered pages of notes, old photographs, and a thick journal containing details she'd gathered over months—truths hidden behind layers of deception.
Tomorrow marked the anniversary of her mother Caroline's death. Desmond had planned a small memorial at the family mansion—an annual event to honor Caroline's memory. But this year, Cinderella planned something more.
She stared at the picture of her mother, her thumb brushing over the smiling face. So much had been stolen from them. Her childhood, her innocence, her peace. And now, with concrete evidence locked in her possession, she was finally close to justice. But the weight of the truth pressed heavily against her chest.
Was she ready to destroy what remained of her family?
There was a soft knock on her door. Teju peeked in, a concerned look on her face.
"You okay? You've been holed up in here for hours."
Cinderella nodded slowly. "I'm fine. Just... thinking."
Teju stepped in, closing the door behind her. She took a seat beside Cinderella, glancing down at the mess of evidence on the bed. "Still planning to reveal everything tomorrow?"
A shaky breath escaped Cinderella's lips. "I don't know. It felt right before. Like, I had this fire in me. But now... it feels like I'm about to break something I can't fix."
Teju picked up one of the photographs—a blurry image of Rebecca in a heated argument with someone near a familiar car. Another piece of the puzzle Cinderella had uncovered through her silent investigations.
"You won't be breaking anything, Cee. You're exposing what was already shattered. They just covered it up with lies and pretense."
Cinderella dropped her gaze. "But Desmond... He's finally warming up to me. We've been rebuilding something. What if this destroys him?"
"What if it sets him free?" Teju said gently. "You think he wants to live in a house built on betrayal and manipulation?"
Silence lingered between them.
Teju continued, her voice softer. "Your mom didn't get justice. She was treated like a shadow, like a burden. If you walk into that memorial tomorrow and stay silent, you're letting Rebecca win."
Cinderella sniffed and wiped her eyes. "I'm scared, Teju. What if it backfires? What if no one believes me?"
"Then we keep fighting. But knowing you, once the truth is out, it won't matter who believes you first. The evidence will speak louder than any lie Rebecca can cook up."
Cinderella took a long breath and nodded. "You're right. I just... needed to hear that."
Teju stood up. "You got this. Just don't forget why you started."
When she left, the room felt colder.
Cinderella reached under her bed and pulled out a hidden envelope. Inside were screenshots of Rebecca's bank transactions, the altered medical report she had managed to find, and most damning of all—a letter written by Caroline shortly before her death. One that hinted she feared for her life, and that she no longer trusted the people around her.
She tucked everything back in the envelope and placed it inside her backpack.
Just then, her phone buzzed. It was Silvester.
Silvester: "Hey, just checking on you. You've been quiet since yesterday. Everything okay?"
She hesitated before replying.
Cinderella: "Yeah, just a lot on my mind. Tomorrow's the memorial."
Silvester: "Right... It must be tough. Want to talk?"
She considered it. There was a part of her that longed to tell him everything—the secrets, the plan, the fear.
But not yet.
Cinderella: "Maybe after tomorrow. I just need to get through this."
Silvester: "Alright. I'll be around if you need me."
Cinderella stared at his name on the screen for a long moment after their exchange. She knew he suspected something, especially with how distant she'd become. But Silvester wasn't ready to hear the full story. Not yet.
The night crept on. She spent the next few hours sorting through her evidence, rehearsing her words. How would she confront Desmond? What would she say if Rebecca denied everything? Would Penelope retaliate?
She didn't sleep. Her eyes were red, her thoughts loud.
By dawn, she was packed and dressed. A black blouse and a long navy skirt—formal but simple. No more uniforms, no pretenses. She was no longer the girl they once treated like a maid. She was a woman stepping into battle.
The cab ride to the mansion was long. The city felt unfamiliar as it passed by in blurs of concrete and traffic. Her heart thudded with each passing streetlight.
When the gates of the mansion came into view, a cold chill passed through her.
She got out of the car and stood at the entrance, her backpack slung over one shoulder. The house stood tall and proud, like it hadn't once hidden secrets so vile.
Cinderella paused at the front gate, her fingers curling into fists.
She was ready.
Tomorrow would be the day everything changed. But tonight, she stood outside the place where her mother had been betrayed, where lies had festered for too long.
She wasn't just here for Caroline anymore.
She was here for herself.
For the girl who had been silenced.
For the woman who would no longer stay quiet.