WHO SAID CINDERELLA HAD TO BE NICE?

Ella's POV I caught my mate cheating with my half sister, Anastasia. The same woman who has made my life a living hell for the past 22 years. Their erotic moans filled the room. I watched in a silence, tears streaming down my face as he pleased her with his tongue, something he never did for me. He always said he didn't swing that way; I guess, the hole was the problem. He even said she was the sweetest thing he ever tasted, calling me inflexible in bed and a dry well. After everything I did, all the p**n I had to watch and practice just to compensate for his inadequacies. Life is so unfair. I honestly thought he was the one, the one who would compensate for all the hardship I had to face, but I was dead wrong. They were right though, about everything. You can't keep a man who doesn't want to be kept, neither can you please humans. The one thing no one told me was, fairy tales do not exist. The Cinderella story isn't real. Cinderella doesn't get a pretty face, or a slender smooth body. She's has deformed features, and she doesn't get freaking prince charming. No one is gonna save her. She doesn't escape her torments, instead she dies a slow agonizing death. 'Now that I think of it. If I am going to die anyway. I better get some retribution. A man for a man seems just fair'- A menacing thought crossed my mind and a slick smirk crawled onto my face as I took a seat on my tiny dusty wooden stool in front of my shattered hand-seized mirror. ‘I am going to so enjoy sleeping with her mate, and I am going to ensure she witnesses every bit of it.' I glanced back at my crooked reflection. The lady before me– A figure unrecognizable. An image characterized by bones and loose skin. The image was an exact opposite of the young lady I remember. The innocence in my eyes was gone, leaving behind just emotionless sunken eyes characterized by eye bags. On my left eye still lingered the black eye, courtesy of my step mother and her ferocious little daughters. I raised my hand to my nasal root, gently rubbing it against my broken nose. Tucking a handful of hair behind my ear, I rubbed my hand against my burnt skin, a gift from my darling stepsister, Giesel. They had ruined me, and they want to become werewolf royalty– never. Just then the thin sheet if cardboard I use as a door fell open. I swallowed a lump in my throat, turned, hoping for the worst— except it was just the woman I wanted to see. Patra, my best friend. A chubby brown-skinned makeup artist in her mid twenties. She was stylishly dressed as always. She had a frown engraved on her face, in her hands rested two large boxes. I had pleaded with her earlier to prepare me for tonight's ball at the alpha's mansion. “What are you waiting for? Help me!" She commanded, with a hiss. “Oh! right!" I said with a nervous smile, as I rushed to her side, prying the boxes away. To my surprise the boxes weighed almost nothing, so why was she creating a fuss? Patra strided over to my mirror, centered the stool, and commanded me to sit. I nodded. A small smile spread across my face as I strided toward her, taking a seat on the stool. She began by applying some primer, and my shade of foundation. “Chummy are you sure about this? They are going to kill you if they find out" Patra asked as she blended the foundation into my skin. I froze momentarily, I glanced up at her reflection. My eyes meeting hers. They were filled with worry, concern— something more. Her worry was understandable though, going to a mask party for werewolf royals was indeed risky. Not only did I have to deceive my two-faced family members, but an entire ballroom of elites— with little or no chance of attracting Alpha Prince Nick. I let out a small sigh before speaking. “Yes Chummy. I am going to get my pound of flesh. Those monsters have taken one too many things from me. It is my turn to be the victimizer," I declared, my voice stable, packed with venom. That betrayal might have taken place 5 months ago, but till date the image still haunted me, engraved in my very essence. While I am not sure of my success rate, I'm at least certain I won't be able to rest easy knowing Anastasia will be the next Luna of the Clearvine pack. Patra let out a deep breath. “I see..." She halted, ducking to my level. Her face falling into a frown as she continued. “I respect your decision, but you would have to promise to be careful." I nodded in understanding. “I promise I will," I assured, my eyes never leaving hers. I wasn't dumb enough to get caught for something this risky. A smile broke on the side of her lips. “That is what I want to hear," She said, rising to her feet. “Now, get ready for a Christmas miracle." And with that she grabbed her makeup brush and just like Cinderella's fairy Godmother she created magic. My eyes were closed only for a bit, but by the time I reopened them– I was reborn. My mouth fell open as I stared at the beautiful swan on the scattered glass, an exact opposite of the woman I had gotten used to. “What do you think?" She asked, a proud smile playing on her lips. A tear plagued my eyeballs but still I held back, fanning my face fanatically. “It's perfect," I whispered, a small ache lingering within my chest. One of perpetual gratitude. “Thank you..." “You're welcome. Now show them you are not to be messed with," She voiced, and a nemesing laugh crept to my lips. #################