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A fractured fairy tale that twists the story of Cinderella into a dark and sinister retelling. I'm not who they think I am. A docile girl who meekly obeys her stepmother and stepsisters. Some kind of sick angel who cheerfully bears their mistreatment. That's what I WANT them to think. Because then they won't suspect what I'm really up to. The ball, the prince - it's all part of my plan to come out on top. Stepmother and her demented daughters will pay for every floor I have scoured, every sneer I have borne. They don't know about the white magic, how I use it to enhance myself. They can't see that my heart is black as midnight, rotten as a poisoned apple. They're about to find out.
That prince is mine.
Not yet, of course. But I’ll get him. And his castle. And his kingdom! Mine. Then I’ll flaunt my victory in my stepsisters’ faces, rub their crooked noses in it. But they won’t get to taste my wealth, not a crumb.
Trouble is, I can’t do it until I’ve saved enough white magic. And to do that, I have to be good.
I hate being good.
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