Never meant to be
That flicker lasted about ten seconds.
“Well, if it isn’t Cinderella herself,” a saccharine voice drawled behind me.
I turned to see Clarissa, my new stepsister, looking me up and down with an expression that screamed condescension. She was dressed to the nines, of course, in a figure-hugging red gown that practically screamed for attention.
“Clarissa,” I greeted, my voice flat.
She tilted her head, her smile cold and calculating. “You know, I wasn’t sure how you’d clean up, but I suppose gold does a decent job of hiding flaws.”
Bab Populer