Cinderella's Midnight Contract

Icy mud seeped through the cracked soles of her shoes. Wendy Lin stood before the heavy front doors of Blackstone Estate, her fingers tugging at the zipper of her soaked coat. Rainwater ran down her black, slightly curled bangs, slipped into her collar, and sent a shiver through her. She carried an old leather suitcase with worn corners, lifted the brass door knocker, and knocked. The heavy door swung open with a groan. In the reception hall, dim wall sconces glowed. Warm, dry air laced with cedar fragrance rushed over her—a world away from the wet mud outside. The old butler Morris stood at the top of the marble steps, his silver hair immaculately combed, the collar of his black tailcoat pressed low. He looked down at the mud spreading beneath Wendy's feet, his brow lowering slightly, and made no move to take her luggage. "Miss Lin." Morris's voice was flat and emotionless, carrying a businesslike detachment. "The Van Doren family is providing lodging out of old friendship, but that does not mean you may act as you please." Wendy set the suitcase on the edge of the doormat, wiped the rain from her cheeks, and replied, "Mr. Morris, I know my place very well." "Good that you do." Morris took out a neatly folded parchment card and tapped it twice with his fingertip. "The third floor of the main building and above are Master Lex's private quarters. If you take even half a step onto them without permission, your boarding privilege will be revoked immediately. You are restricted to the attic at the top of the side wing and the ground-floor kitchen. Breakfast is at six thirty in the morning. Do not make any noise that disturbs the master." "Understood." Wendy nodded. A maid carrying a silver tray emerged from the corridor at the side of the hall. The maid, Ada, wore a stiffly starched uniform. On the tray was a gold-rimmed bone china tea set. As Ada passed Wendy, she did not slow her steps; her shoulder heavily brushed against Wendy's wet raincoat. The silver tray tilted. The bone china teacup crashed onto the polished marble floor and shattered. Black tea splashed Wendy's trouser leg, staining a large dark patch at the edge of the carpet. Ada stepped back and raised her voice. "Oh! Why don't you watch where you're going? This is a custom tea set flown in from Europe. A set costs over a thousand dollars!" Several servants standing on both sides of the hall turned their heads. Their gazes fell on Wendy's worn canvas shoes, and their lips curved with amusement. Morris frowned and looked at the floor. "Miss Lin, damaging estate property the moment you enter makes it very hard for me to explain to the master." "My suitcase has been on the doormat the whole time, and my feet have not moved," Wendy said, looking down at the tea and broken pieces on the floor, her voice steady. "When the tray came at me, Ada's wrist turned outward thirty degrees. If you check the security camera above the entrance hall, you should be able to see exactly which hand was doing the pushing." Ada's expression changed slightly. She stepped forward and loomed over Wendy. "You're just a poor relative here on the family's charity, and you dare suspect me? Mr. Morris, she dirtied the carpet and now she wants to shift the blame onto me!" "Enough." From the corner of the spiral staircase on the second floor came a low, clear male voice. The noisy hall fell silent in an instant. All the servants quickly lowered their heads. Even Morris tightened his jaw, took half a step back, and bowed. Lex Van Doren descended the stairs. He wore a sharply tailored dark gray silk dressing gown, the collar slightly open, revealing straight collarbones. His black hair fell loosely across his forehead. He was tall, his steps steady and unhurried. He stood midway down the steps, his gaze lightly sweeping over the broken porcelain on the floor before finally resting on Ada's face. "Since when does Blackstone Estate allow servants to shift their own clumsiness onto a guest?" Ada's face instantly drained of color. Her knees bent slightly, and her voice trembled. "Young Master, I... I was just..." "Go to the accounts office to settle this week's wages, deduct the cost of the tea set, and leave before dawn tomorrow." Lex did not even let her finish. His tone was calm, as if he were disposing of a piece of trash. Ada opened her mouth, her eyes reddening, but she did not dare make another sound. She lowered her head and quickly retreated to the back hall. Wendy stood where she was, no hint of triumph on her face, her posture unchanged. Lex descended the last step and stopped three paces away from Wendy. The air between them mingled the scent of black tea with the crisp woody fragrance of his. He lowered his eyes slightly. His gaze fell on Wendy's fingertips, pale from the cold, then moved to her calm amber eyes. "Thank you, Young Master," Wendy said. Lex's expression did not change. His gaze swept over the pilled cuffs of her knit sweater, and his voice held no warmth. "Don't thank me. I simply despise fools making a racket in front of me." He stepped past Wendy. In the instant their shoulders brushed, he paused for half a second and left a whisper: "Keep your cleverness in check. At Blackstone Estate, the price of breaking the rules is more than you can afford." His footsteps faded, and the door to the second-floor corridor closed. Morris raised his head again. The disdain on his face receded somewhat, replaced by a standard butler's smile. "Miss Lin, please take your luggage. I'll show you to the attic." Wendy lifted the wet, heavy suitcase and followed Morris up the narrow wooden spiral staircase. After a long corridor, the wooden attic door swung open. Inside there was only a single bed, a desk with peeling paint, and an old standing full-length mirror against the wall. "Rest well tonight, Miss Lin." Morris closed the door behind him. The only sound left in the room was the storm outside beating against the glass. Wendy put down the suitcase, took off her soaked shoes and socks, walked to the desk, and sat down, rubbing her stiff knuckles. She pulled open the drawer and took out the speech for tomorrow's opening ceremony at St. Ayles Academy, covered edge to edge with notes. The alarm clock at the corner of the desk ticked, its hands quietly sliding toward half past eleven.