At the will reading the following week, her taunt becomes an unbearable reality—one I don’t think I’ll survive, one I’m not sure I want to.
Over the next six years, I find myself sinking deeper and deeper in the depths of my mind, only content when the world around me seems to fade away.
She continues to leave bruises and scars on my body and soul, until I start to believe the words she spews to be true.
The little girl who once said goodbye to her doting dad is gone. She hasn’t existed for a very long time. In fact, I’m not entirely sure there’s anyone left at all.
I’ve become certain over the years that wishes don’t come true, that fairy tales are make-believe, and that all the fairy godmothers are dead.
Every day, I question my sanity to continue playing my part in my stepmother’s deal. But we’re already a month in, and being this detached from her has honestly been a blessing after the last six years I spent at her side.
“Hey, are you ready?” Jules bursts into my room without warning. I would say it’s out of character, but I can’t.
My eyes fly to the clock on my nightstand, and I audibly gasp.
Shoot.
Panic bolts through me—both because I almost inhaled the pins between my lips and because it’smuchlater in the morning than I realized.
“Ciri, we do not have time for this right now. We’re going to be late for the morning roll.” She rushes over to me, softly giggling. “Step away from the mannequin … or else!”
Shoving the pins from my mouth into the dress form, I drop the scissors onto my workshop table, fumbling to put my hair up into a ponytail as fast as I possibly can.
“Crap. Sorry! I lost track of time,” I shout, rushing through the motions of getting dressed as quickly as possible, changing from my pajamas into my work uniform.
Jules checks her watch. “We still have three minutes.”
“Okay, okay, good.” I exhale, shimmying my pants up my legs.
Scrub joggers—check.
Scrub top—check.
Waist apron—check.
Tennis shoes—check.
Watch—check.
Deep breath—check.
Jules’s toe tapping keeps my anxiety at an all-time high as I slide my phone and headphones into my apron and rush out of the door behind her, locking it with the push of a button.
It doesn’t matter how many mornings I wake in this house …mansion… ridiculously large, opulent estate. I’m never used to the sparkly marble floor, sky-high vaulted ceilings, elegant chandeliers the size of cars, and ornate furnishings that belong in a museum.
We race up to the main level, rushing toward Ms. Ravi’s office, slipping inside just as her old clock chimes through the room.
Her stare is already on us, intense and pointed. “Close call this morning, ladies.”
We both nod, tucking our chin to our chest in embarrassment, more me than Jules as Ms. Ravi is her mom.She starts making her way through roll call, and all twenty-four servants answer in response when it’s their turn.
After a speedy rundown of the day, questions, and concerns, we are all dismissed to begin our duties. Jules and I, along with the others in our group, make our way to the main house, through the corridor that connects to the staff wing of the house, following the same steps we do every morning. Well, at least on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays when Jules and I work.
We’re only part-time since we’re enrolled at Happily Ever After University. Part of our job with the Kensington household is that we serve their family during the duration of our schooling and they cover tuition, room, and board.
It’s a very generous program. Receiving a golden-ticket diploma from HEAU can land practically any desired job in any career field across the board. Which is exactly what I need to finally and officially get away from my stepmother.
Retrieving our carts, Jules and I head to Mr. Asher and Mr. Dean’s wing while the rest of the group breaks off to tackle other parts of the house.
