1. Cinderella in modern era

Clara's perspective:

I remembered the story of Cinderella. It has always been my favorite since I was a child. Little did I know that it would soon become my reality. However, unlike Cinderella, my story does not seem to have a happy ending anytime soon.

The main difference between Cinderella and me is that I am fully aware of the reasons behind my suffering. Moreover, we are a wealthy family, for which I am grateful. I do not have to perform all the household tasks. But is this life any easier than what I am currently enduring? Living here without any dignity is a struggle that I face every single day.

"Sister, did Grandma scold you again?" Paxton inquired, holding my hand. He is remarkably mature for his age. One of the reasons I endure everything here is because of my brother. He is too precious to me and I can do anything to save him from these people.

"She can keep trying, but I will not give her the satisfaction of breaking me," I reassured Paxton, planting a kiss on his forehead as he shyly smiled. He truly is adorable.

“Why don’t you share this with Father? I am sure he will teach her a good lesson.” Paxton said in a sad tone.

Father's love for me was undeniably doubtful. However, his question about why I didn't share everything with him brought back painful memories. The day when I lost my lovable father forever.

Flashback

Long before Paxton entered my life, a traumatic incident occurred.

"Dad, I'm telling the truth. Grandma did it on purpose," I sobbed as I showed him the burn marks on my legs. I was barely 6 years old at that time.

"Master, I didn't do this. I promise. Baby Clara fell on her own. I tried to save her and even injured my hands," Elena, the elderly head housekeeper, spoke with fear evident in her trembling voice. However, she would occasionally glare at me, sending shivers down my spine.

"Dad, she's lying." I received a scorching slap across my face. My father, who had always been the best dad in the world to me, not only believed that I was lying but also punished me for something I did not know of. I felt utterly betrayed.

"I can see that you've started lying to me. All of this is because of your mother," my father screamed and my mom intervened to defend me. But I could not take my eyes off my dad, unable to comprehend what had just happened. While my mom embraced me, I no longer shed tears. I witnessed the lady's victorious smile.

Was it her plan all along? But was it really her fault? Not at all. It was my mistake to trust my dad.

The flashback came to an end.

That marked the final day I referred to him as my father. However, in the days that followed, I limited my conversations with him to only necessary matters. I refuse to dwell on the countless events that led to the disintegration of my family. I have no desire to shed tears over the past. My focus has always been on creating a brighter future. I am well aware of the steps I need to take in order to distance myself from these individuals.

"Remember, power and status are the only means by which we can protect ourselves from malevolent individuals. Learn while you are young, and apply that knowledge when the time is right." I consistently impart these teachings to Paxton. Although he is still young, I do not wish for him to remain small forever. I want him to grow strong swiftly.

I descended from the room, eager to escape this torment even if only for a brief respite.

"Clara, have your breakfast, my dear," I am accustomed to this charade. I glanced at the familiar elderly woman.

"No, I am not hungry," I replied, determined to leave the premises as soon as possible. I feel suffocated in this environment.

"Do not direct your anger towards the food, my dear," Elena said with a smile, while Ron Taylor, my father glared at me with fury. He despises it whenever I show disrespect to anyone within this family.

"They have prepared food for you as well. Do not create a scene every day," Mr. Taylor shouted at me. His tone made me recoil, but I silently approached the table and took a seat.

"You always enjoy pasta, don't you?" Elena served me a steaming plate of pasta. I took a slow bite, fully aware that this woman took pleasure in seeing me distressed. It was excessively spicy. I swallowed it down without a word of complaint. I took another bite, followed by a third. Damn it, tears welled up in my eyes as Elena smirked at me.

“Are you feeling all right, my dear?” Bella Taylor, Elena's daughter, is approaching. Now everyone will be aware of Elena's intentions for that day. Undoubtedly, she planned to make her daughter Mrs. Taylor by getting rid of me and my mother. However, I am still here as my mother passed away a long time ago.

"I have a crucial meeting," I muttered. I got up and left my food untouched. I didn't want to listen to Mr. Taylor's shouting.

I ran into another obstacle early in the morning. Oh, what a day and what a mood.

"Hello, dipstick. Everyone has eyes, but I can't seem to find them in you," Elsa, my step-sister who is just a year and a half younger than me, said with a cunning smile. She always enjoys taunting me.

"Just like everyone has a brain, I hope you find yours," I didn't stick around to hear her response. I always retaliate with words. However, I know that each time, my response will only make matters worse. She will complain to her grandmother, who will then conspire against me.

Didn't I mention that I am like Cinderella in the first part? Well, she doesn't fight back or respond. But my mouth always gets me into trouble. I can't just sit back like a damsel in distress. My own words are my worst enemy.

"Did you enjoy the spiciest pasta? It was for flirting with my friend to impress him," Elsa said, reminding me of the conversation with her friend, James. However, it was he who was flirting with me. Regardless, Elsa always finds ways to torment me. I don't understand why she holds so much animosity towards me.

"I absolutely loved it. Tell your grandmother to put in a bit more effort. It's becoming quite dull around here," Once again, my mouth got the best of me. My mouth was already on fire, and I couldn't control my words. These people will only make things worse. Should I just give in to them?

I departed from the location to avoid escalating the situation any further. Upon arriving at my residence, I reflected on the significance of My Shopaholics, my fashion house, and my mother's fashion house. The only request I made to Mr. Taylor was the only instance where I compromised my self-respect and engaged in conversation with that individual.

"Ma'am, Miss. Florida is offering a higher amount for you to consider," Jenny exclaimed as I entered the office.

"Jenny, I am not driven by business or money in this endeavour. It's my passion, and I will select my projects. I have no interest in working with Florida. I do not wish to design for her daughter's wedding," I stated softly. Her daughter was my classmate and Elsa's friend, and that was the end of the matter.

"Do not disturb me. I am going to rest now," I declared, reclining on my couch. It was my favorite spot. The weight of my daily routine burdened my heart. Why must I endure this?

Whenever I lay on this couch, I feel as though I am sleeping on my mother's lap. Tears welled up in my eyes involuntarily.

"I miss you, Mom," I whispered as tears streamed down my face. I longed for her presence. Perhaps she would appear like the fairy godmother in Cinderella and grant me any wish.

***********

In a renowned restaurant:

A reporter grinned as he prepared to capture an exclusive picture, having received a tip that the great Alexandar is dating a model and they are about to meet there. Victoria, a famous diva in the modelling world, entered the restaurant with a smile. She noticed the reporter and smiled even more, seemingly aware of what was about to unfold. She simply wanted to be featured in a news column with Alex to get closer to him.

"I have arrived," Victoria stated in a phone call.

"Just ten more minutes," the person on the other end replied abruptly before hanging up, much to Victoria's annoyance.

After ten minutes, someone approached and sat in front of her. The reporter snapped a picture instantly, only to have his expression fall when he realized who had arrived.

"Hello, Miss Victoria. We are pleased to collaborate with you on the upcoming project. Here are the agreement details for your consideration," Mac, Alex's secretary, said with a smile as Victoria glared at him with a stoic expression.

"I was expecting Alex to be here," Victoria expressed in a disappointed tone.

"He can't personally meet every model, can he?" Mac emphasized the word 'model' loudly enough for the reporter to exit the premises disheartened, leaving Victoria feeling embarrassed. She was just another model to him.

"I sincerely hope that you refrain from engaging in such deceitful actions in the future. And please remember, his name is Mr. Fernandez, not Alex," Mac cautioned her with a stern tone.

"He will not show any leniency if this happens again." With that, Mac departed, leaving Victoria to clench her teeth in frustration.

Inside the car, Alex glanced at her through his window and tightened his fist. The audacity of this girl.

"Dad really needs to put an end to this," Alex muttered, grasping the situation perfectly. No girl would possess the courage to confront Alex unless she had someone supporting her, and that someone could only be Frank Fernandez.

Alex received a notification and a smile formed on his face as he read the contents.

"Life is too short. Make mistakes and learn from them. If someone disagrees with you, give them a high five to their face." Alex chuckled heartily as he read the quote.

He had recently stumbled upon this blog and was captivated by its quotes. Nothing had ever caught his attention like this before, except for this mysterious stranger.

"Fascinating. Who is she?" Alex pondered aloud as he observed her signature, a stylish S with a C.

In Shopaholics

Clara closed her blog. It's her only solace. She has no readers but she feels happy to pen down her emotions like this. Her signature was composed of her letter and her mother’s name, Stella.