My face paled when I heard the door slam open. Just as my stepmother had said, she would be home late—and she indeed came home late, dragging her scowling daughter Minerva behind her.
"It's midnight already! Why are you coming home this late, Minerva?!" she yelled. Minerva quickly covered her ears—she hated being scolded. She locked herself in her room while my stepmother continued ranting outside.
"I'll have a word with that Rosetta! If you ever go to the palace again without my permission, I swear I'll pull both of your hair out!" she screamed, furious. Her eyes were wide with rage at whatever Minerva had done.
I quickly fetched a glass of water and offered it to her. She took it without hesitation and drank it all in one go. When she handed it back, she sighed and rubbed her temple, visibly stressed.
She was worried—she had to prove that the ring she had bought truly belonged to Rosa. On top of that, an elderly male client of mine was investigating the matter. I still didn't know his name. I think he told me once, but I just couldn't remember. I couldn't afford to be careless around my stepmother, especially since the Rosa she was looking for lived under her own roof.
That night, I hesitated before heading to the entertainment house, hoping to find Billy and talk to him about my problem. I arrived at seven in the evening, still wearing my house clothes—completely inappropriate for such a place. Upon entering, a woman even ordered me to fetch her red wine, and I did as told.
"Red wine. Please deliver it to the third table," I told Cecil. Her brown eyes widened, and she immediately brought the tray with four drinks to the table.
"Rowela," Brother Ernie called, pulling me into the kitchen.
"I-Is something wrong?" I asked nervously, unsure why he was taking me somewhere.
He led me to the wine storage, where Billy was seated on an old bench, staring at a pile of checks on the table. His expression was serious. When he saw me, he sighed heavily, gestured for me to sit across from him, and I did.
I swallowed hard—my throat felt dry from anxiety—as I stared at the checks. When I looked at his face, his dark eyes reflected sadness. I feared the worst—maybe those checks came from the man who had been my client. Had he paid Billy to capture me? I looked around nervously, making sure no guards were hiding in the room.
"You probably already know why I asked you here," he said, still staring at the checks. I looked down and nodded solemnly.
"You're my friend, Rowela, and I can't bring myself to betray you. But because of what's happened, my business and this whole place's reputation are at stake. If we don't cooperate with your client to find you, we might be forced to shut down." Tears welled up in my eyes, and I quickly covered them so he wouldn't see. Billy was my friend, but I didn't fully trust his decisions—he could still turn me in to save himself.
"Don't cry—come on!" he chuckled gently. I uncovered my face, blurry-eyed, as he sighed again and began stuffing the checks into a brown envelope.
"I'm returning these to your client, Rowela."
"W-Why?"
"You're like a sister to me. Remember when we were just workers at my father's liquor shop? This place used to just sell booze, but look at it now—it's a thriving entertainment house visited every day. When my father died, you helped me grow this business. Even though I'm only 25, my name has become known, thanks to this place. I only have one request, Rowela, and I hope you understand."
"What is it?"
The next morning, Billy's entertainment house had closed down. He left early with his workers. Before leaving, he asked me for something—I gave him all the money I had saved from selling my jewelry. His earnings weren't enough to start a new business abroad. He had no choice. If he stayed, the pressure from my client might have cost him his life. Maybe it's for the best. What matters now is that I'm safe, and Billy, along with his staff, still believes I'm just Rosa in disguise. I'm grateful for Billy's loyalty, even if the old man had rained money on him just to find me.
I stood in front of the entertainment house, watching as its wooden doors were nailed shut, ready to be replaced. It was gone. And with it, any reason for me to keep sneaking out at night.
When I got home, I cleaned my stepmother's room. She lay silently on her bed, sipping her wine. I noticed her staring at me, and I finally asked:
"Is something wrong?" I asked curiously. She raised an eyebrow as she drank.
"I'm worried about Myra. She refuses to speak to me and hasn't left her room. Maybe Minerva was right—I should just let her and her penniless lover be." She drank again before continuing.
"In this world, we shouldn't follow our hearts. Maybe she's in love now, but one day, that love will fade. When that time comes, she'll regret the life she chose. Don't you agree, Rowela?"
"Yes, you're right, Mother," I replied.
But she shouldn't assume that Myra's life will mirror hers. She can't control someone's heart. No matter how she tries to stop it, Myra will always love Gerald.
"She's neglected her duties at the palace, and now she spends the whole day bedridden, still upset over what I've said. And Minerva—" she rubbed her temples and set down her glass beside her antique clock. She massaged her head and gave me a faint smile.
"Rowela, I have something to tell you that I'm sure will make you happy."
"What is it?"
"I've decided that you'll take Myra's place."
"Take her place?"
"Yes, you'll go to the palace like she used to and fulfill her duties."
I gripped the broom tightly, my hands sweating with frustration. What does she think I am, a replacement she can swap in and out as she pleases?
"You might even find a husband there, Rowela. Just make sure he's rich and gets my approval first," she added.
"I've never thought about marriage. I'd rather serve as a maid for the rest of my life."
"Don't you want to live like a queen? Life would be easier, and you're kind—surely it'll be easy for you to find someone at the palace." I secretly rolled my eyes as she turned her back, but I pretended to be interested.
"Won't Minerva be angry if she finds out I'm replacing Myra?"
"She can't stop me. She's failed at everything I've asked her to do."
"But she's still your daughter. She'll be hurt if she finds out."
"And you've forgotten you're my daughter too—from that lying husband of mine." She suddenly coughed after saying that. Was she disgusted? So what if I'm his daughter? She's never treated me as family—just a servant. Now she dares to call me her child?
"Will I get to wear nice clothes?" I asked, changing the subject.
"Of course—but only if you obey every order I give. Understood?"
"Yes, Mother." I forced a smile, but as I turned to throw out the trash, my eyes narrowed with rage. Before I could leave the room, she spoke again.
"We're leaving this afternoon. Get ready. I'll lend you Myra's dresses."
Thank goodness it wasn't Minerva's. She would've cursed me if it were.
By three o'clock, I'd finished all my chores. I was nervous—my stepmother was up to something. She'd been eyeing me strangely all day. Maybe she already knew I was Rosa?
Myra lent me a pink dress. She loved pink and always wore a corset to make her waist look smaller. I could barely breathe the first time I wore it. The gown's train was so heavy, it felt like I was wearing a curtain. I hated it. I looked like a child, not a noblewoman. Myra, on the other hand, was delighted—she said it suited me so well that I could keep it. But I didn't want it. It wasn't my style, and I wasn't comfortable at all.
I held the hem as I stepped out of Myra's room. My stepmother called me to hers and made me sit before the mirror. She tied my hair and applied light makeup to make me look like an innocent doll. When she finished, I barely recognized myself. I looked nothing like me or even like Rosa.
When we stepped outside, a carriage awaited us. A man helped me climb in—it was high, and you needed assistance to get in or out. The same was done for my stepmother. I almost laughed. So this is what rich people ride? It was beautiful but incredibly inconvenient. I didn't expect it to be this hard for the wealthy too.
When we arrived at the palace, I was stunned. The palace was massive. The gardens were huge, with fountains and a deep blue sea beyond. It looked like a dream—absolutely breathtaking. I was sure the inside would be just as grand.
As I stepped down, I noticed a second carriage behind us—it carried all my belongings. I turned to my stepmother, confused.
"This is where you'll live now. And you'll find a husband here. This is the Palace of Zenon, where nobles from all over gather. Your mission is to marry a wealthy man. Be careful—one mistake, and you'll be removed from the palace," she said, gripping my arm tightly as we entered.
I was nearly blinded by the glittering lights inside. The staircase was enormous—probably exhausting to climb. The red floors were polished so well, I could almost see my reflection.
My stepmother led me to the receptionist's desk and introduced me.
"I'm Mira Escobar, and this is my daughter, Rowela Escobar. Nineteen years old. She's here to join the competition," she said calmly.
Competition? I thought this was a palace. Why is there a competition?
"I'm sorry, but we only have one invitation left—and someone already claimed it." The woman showed us the sealed envelope and tucked it back beneath the papers.
"I don't care about that invitation. I have one too." My stepmother pulled out a golden paper tied with a red ribbon and handed it over. The woman's eyes widened as she examined it.
She wrote my name down and assigned me room number 178.
"You'll be staying temporarily in Room 178, miss. Madam, I'm sorry, but we can't allow guests inside. Only those with invitations may enter."
"I understand," my stepmother replied. Then she turned to me.
I didn't know what came over her, but she suddenly hugged me and patted my back. My heart softened. I forgot, just for a moment, all the cruel things she'd done.
As she left, I realized something: I was luckier than Cinderella. What kind of stepmother dresses you up and sends you off to find a husband? Most of the people here are old, I heard. My life won't be a fairytale—more like a trap. Fairytales aren't real, and if they are, they only come with disaster.
And my stepmother still holds me by the throat—even down to who I choose to marry.