The slipper slid onto Cinderella's foot like it was made for her.
Which, obviously, it was.
The whole house froze. Even our mother's eyebrow stopped moving.
The Prince stared at Cinderella like someone who suddenly remembered where he left his wallet.
"I think I know you," he said.
Cinderella looked ready to faint or maybe run. Hard to tell with her.
But Drizella—bless her overly logical brain—jumped in before romance could ruin the moment.
She crossed her arms.
"You think you know her? That's vague. Could also mean you don't."
The Prince blinked.
"I do know her."
Drizella nodded, now in full detective mode.
"Fine. Then answer questions. Mystery girl from ball—hair color?"
"Blonde," the Prince answered instantly.
"Eye color?"
"Blue. Blue like morning sky."
Drizella squinted at Cinderella's face.
"Checks out."
Then she pointed again.
"Height?"
"About here," he said, gesturing level with Cinderella's head.
"Voice?"
"Soft," he said, "and polite. Not sharp or squeaky."
Drizella considered it.
"Okay. So not me."
I snorted. Mother elbowed me.
Drizella kept going.
"Dress color?"
"Blue," said the Prince, "same as a summer cloud-shadow."
"And gloves?"
"White. Long."
Drizella nodded again very slowly like she was judging ripe fruit.
Then she leaned in for the big one.
"Three days after ball, can you still remember her face?"
The Prince didn't even blink.
"Yes. Perfectly."
And weirdly, I believed him.
Cinderella looked like she wanted to melt into the floorboards.
Then Drizella held up a finger.
"Last question. The girl at the ball lost one shoes. Where is shoe number two?"
My head snapped toward her. And that was all I needed.
Before anyone could say another dramatic thing, I yelled:
"I'LL BE RIGHT BACK!"
Then I ran. Full speed. Skirts flying. Nearly tripped over the geese.
I headed straight to the stable which is the most safest place to hide something from mother.
It was still there under straw, like a tiny, fancy treasure.
I grabbed it and ran back, covered in mud and straw and bad decisions.
When I burst into the house, panting, Drizella was still interrogating like a tiny lawyer.
"If you really know her, then say her name."
The Prince paused—not because he didn't know, but because he wanted to say it right.
"Ella."
Cinderella froze.
I held up the second shoe like I'd just solved a murder mystery.
"FOUND THE OTHER ONE!"

Everyone gasped.
The guards stared.
Mother looked ready to pack her bags and move to another kingdom immediately.
Cinderella looked at me. Really looked. And she smiled.
The Prince smiled too, like he'd finally connected all the puzzle pieces.
He took Cinderella's hands.
"Ella," he repeated softly.
And she didn't argue with him. Not even a little.
The room went silent for all of two heartbeats. Then Mother exploded like a tea kettle left too long on the fire.
"IMPOSSIBLE! SHE DID NOT GO TO THE BALL!"
She practically screeched it. I swear birds on the roof flew away.
Cinderella blinked at her with a tiny smile like,
Actually yes I did, mother dearest, sorry for the emotional damage.
Mother stomped closer, finger shaking.
"She was locked in the House— I mean— left in the house! She could not have gone!"
Drizella and I exchanged a look.
This was it. Time for truth bombs.
"Mother," Drizella sighed dramatically, "We helped her."
Mother gasped.
I nodded very helpfully.
"We helped her with her mother's gown and that crystal shoe. Even made an escape plan with her."
The Prince's eyebrows shot up. The guards looked mildly impressed too.
Mother looked betrayed on a spiritual level.
I shrugged.
"We wanted her to come with us but you denied. That was the only option."
Cinderella avoided everyone's eyes like she was suddenly shy about being a criminal mastermind.
The Prince didn't care. He looked at Cinderella like she might float away if he didn't keep staring.
"Ella," he said softly, taking her hand, "come with me."
And like that, she stepped toward him. Happiest. Girl. Alive.
The guards opened the carriage door, and I thought:
Well, that's that. Cinderella becomes Princess. We go home and eat sad soup forever.
But then—
The Prince turned to the guards, face shifting into Serious Royal Mode.
"Take them."
We froze.
"Excuse me?" Mother squeaked.
The guards moved faster than I could say "Wait I'm innocent but also not really."
They grabbed Mother, Drizella, and me.
I yelped.
"WHY ARE WE BEING CAPTURED? WE HELPED! WE'RE VERY SUPPORTIVE!"
Drizella tried dignity.
"Is this normal? Is this a new wedding custom? No one told me about this!"
Mother shrieked.
"I KNOW MY RIGHTS!"
Which she did not.
Cinderella looked horrified.
"Adrien! What are you doing?! They're my family!"
The Prince actually had the nerve to look calm.
"No punishment. Just containment. I've seen how fast your family gets 'ideas.'"
Okay. Fair.
I kicked at the air as a guard dragged me.
"WE'RE BEING CONTAINED LIKE DANGEROUS CHICKENS!"
The Prince pointed at Mother.
"Especially that one."
Mother hissed at him like a cornered cat.
The carriage rolled forward—Cinderella inside like a princess, the rest of us hauled behind like questionable luggage.
Honestly?
Most exciting day of my life.
Being dragged to the palace felt a bit dramatic if you asked me. None of us were fighting. Well—Mother was fighting, but that's her hobby.
"UNHAND ME! I AM NOBILITY!" she shouted, kicking a guard in the shin.
I waved cheerfully behind her.
"Yes, but minor nobility! There is a difference!"
Drizella pinched my arm.
"Stop helping."
Anyway, we arrived at the palace courtyard where Prince Adrien stood like a majestic judge in a fairytale courtroom. Cinderella hovered beside him looking worried and angelic which—honestly—was annoying at that moment.
A guard shoved the three of us forward.
Adrien pointed dramatically.
"These are the women who mistreated Ella."
My jaw dropped so fast it almost cracked the stones.
"MISTREATED?" I yelled. "We shared bread! And hair ribbons!"
Drizella folded her arms like she was preparing to win a debate championship.
"Exactly. We also let her use the nice soap—on birthdays."
Cinderella gasped softly.
Mother hissed.
Adrien ignored us and spoke in royal outrage mode:
"She was made to cook! Clean! And treated as a servant!"
I felt my heart crack.
Servant?
No one told me she felt like that. I mean, yes, she DID chores… but we also did… well… fewer chores, but SOME chores!
I pointed at Cinderella.
"Ella, did you really think we were treating you like a servant?!"
She bit her lip.
Did not deny it.
Betrayal. Absolute betrayal.
Drizella jumped in, voice serious and oddly mature.
"For the record, Your Highness, it is very common for younger household members to have tasks. We also lost our source of income, we can't afford maids."
I nodded with agreement.
Drizella went on.
"Furthermore, if we were her tormentors, why did we help her escape to the ball?"
Adrien's eyebrows shot up.
Mother glared daggers at us.
We ignored her for the sake of justice.
I puffed up with anger.
" How could you do that Ella. I admit we used to treat her badly but that was a mutual misunderstanding. We even talked it out. Treated you better. And you still choose to be a snitch. WOW...!"
Adrien glanced at Cinderella, confused.
"Is that true?"
Cinderella whispered:
"Um… yes."
Adrien looked… slightly less judge-y.
But I still felt betrayed enough to sigh loudly.
"I thought we were friends, Ella."
Cinderella sniffed.
Mother rolled her eyes.
Drizella crossed her arms and delivered her closing statement like a real lawyer:
"In conclusion: Not perfect sisters, but not villains. Also Cinderella never told us she was miserable. Communication matters."
Adrien stared at us, clearly processing.
Cinderella wrung her hands.
Mother attempted to look pitiful.
I tried to look heroic.
Drizella adjusted her hair, ready for round two if needed.
Honestly?
I think the Prince realized he just kidnapped VERY complicated in-laws.
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SIDE NOTE: Even I don't know why I added this twist. Maybe I just wanted a bit of drama. And who said good girl Cinderella can't create drama. She is a normal human being after all 🤣🤣
If you like my story then give it a star and share it with your friends, this will help me to keep motivated and write new stories.