Chapter 1 From Diamond to Dust

Once, Ella Hart walked on marble floors like a princess.

Now, she scrubbed them on her knees.

The grand chandelier above the Hart estate still sparkled, just as it had when her father was alive. But the light no longer warmed her soul-it only cast sharp reflections on the cold tiles she cleaned every morning before the household awoke.

"You're not to be seen when Mr. Blackwell arrives tonight," snapped Vivian Hart, her stepmother, descending the stairs in heels that clicked like a countdown to doom. Her tone was laced with venom and vodka. "This is a private dinner. No maids. Especially not you."

Ella swallowed hard, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yes, ma'am."

She had learned not to protest. Her father's death six years ago had been the end of her freedom-and the beginning of her servitude.

Once the darling of Manhattan's elite, she was now the forgotten girl in rags. Her once-glamorous life reduced to hand-me-downs, chores, and the cruel laughter of her stepsisters, Clara and Ivy.

She wore her pain in silence, her beauty hidden under baggy clothes and frizzy buns. No one noticed her. And that was exactly how her stepmother wanted it.

But deep down, Ella dreamed.

Of freedom.

Of fashion.

Of love.

And sometimes-only sometimes-of revenge.

---

By evening, the mansion glittered like a diamond under moonlight. Velvet curtains, golden plates, and endless bottles of imported champagne lined the table.

Tonight's guest?

Liam Blackwell.

Billionaire CEO. Manhattan's coldest, richest prince.

And her stepmother's latest scheme.

Vivian was desperate to marry one of her daughters into the Blackwell empire. She had pulled every string to get Liam to agree to this dinner. Now, Clara and Ivy fluttered down the stairs in designer gowns, their lips painted red like blood, ready to throw themselves at the man who could change their lives forever.

Ella, meanwhile, watched from the hallway shadows.

Invisible. Unwanted.

Until she heard the front doors burst open.

A man stumbled inside, soaked in rain and gripping his side. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead.

Ella gasped.

"Sir?" she whispered, rushing forward before her mind could catch up.

He looked up. Piercing gray eyes met hers. Mysterious. Powerful. Lost.

"I was... attacked," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "Someone followed me..."

She didn't ask questions. She grabbed his arm, slid it around her shoulders, and helped him to the servants' entrance before anyone could see.

Her heart pounded. His suit was soaked. His body was warm. And under the blood and bruises... he looked like a man who ruled the world.

They didn't speak as she led him to the old guestroom in the east wing, hidden from the rest of the house. She cleaned his wound with shaking hands, every brush of her fingers against his skin making her breath catch.

"Who are you?" he asked quietly, staring at her through half-lidded eyes.

"No one," she whispered. "Just... a maid."

His lips curved slightly. "No one would've helped me the way you did."

Ella looked away, flushing.

"I'll be gone by morning," he said. "Don't tell anyone I was here."

She nodded.

And just like that, he closed his eyes, trusting her. A stranger. A nobody.

But in that moment, something sparked.

An invisible thread tied their fates together.

A billionaire prince.

And a forgotten Cinderella.

Neither of them knew that their lives would never be the same.