The wind howled outside the narrow windows of the house Penelope now shared with Stephen. A far cry from the lavish estate they'd once called home, this place—once their mother's old residence before marrying Desmond—was now their forced reality. The wallpaper peeled at the corners, the plumbing rattled, and every creak of the wooden floor echoed the absence of luxury.
Penelope Harper, once the proud, diamond-polished daughter of the Harper household, now sat hunched on a rickety chair in the cold, poorly lit kitchen. The designer clothes were long gone, replaced by off-brand sweaters and old jeans. Her perfectly manicured nails chipped and broken. Her phone had been confiscated during Rebecca's arrest, and even her social media pages had been deactivated—Desmond's legal team made sure of it. She was no longer a Harper in the eyes of society.
Stephen, brooding and angry, slammed a cupboard shut, startling her. He had grown more distant since their exile. His dreams of becoming a tech mogul, of living in wealth and admiration, were shattered. He had returned from abroad to a wrecked home, a ruined reputation, and the weight of a crumbling legacy. For him, Penelope was part of that downfall.
"You're the reason all this happened," he snapped, turning to her with bitter eyes.
Penelope glared. "Don't put this on me, Stephen. You think you're so innocent? You tried to humiliate Cinderella in front of Dad. You exposed yourself."
He scoffed. "At least I didn't drag Mother into a murder investigation."
That cut deeper than he intended. Penelope turned away, her eyes stinging. The trial hadn't started yet, but the newspapers had already begun painting Rebecca as the villain in Caroline's death. The whispers, the accusations—they followed Penelope like shadows. She could barely step outside without feeling judged. Even their old friends had deserted them. Once adored, now ostracized.
Their fridge groaned. Empty. The bills piled up on the counter. Neither of them had a job, and Desmond made it clear: they were on their own now.
Later that week, Penelope found herself at a local café, one she never would've glanced at twice before. She had been walking for hours, trying to clear her head. The waiter didn't recognize her—not that she expected anyone to anymore. She ordered a simple cup of coffee and sat by the window, watching as people passed by. Happy couples, busy mothers, students laughing.
She envied them.
In the corner of the café, she spotted a familiar face—Eloise. Cinderella's friend. And beside her, Heather. They were laughing over brunch, heads bent over their phones, sharing pictures.
Penelope's stomach twisted. Once, she would've rolled her eyes at such a scene. Now, she wished she were a part of it. She longed for friendship, for warmth—for normalcy.
Eloise spotted her.
Their eyes met.
Penelope looked away quickly, pretending to be engrossed in her coffee. But the damage was done. She'd been seen.
Heather leaned in, whispering something.
Penelope didn't wait to find out what. She left cash on the table and rushed out. As she turned the corner, she finally allowed the tears to fall.
Back at home, Stephen was on the phone. Angry. Again.
"No, I told you, I'm not paying extra! That's not what the lease said—"
She walked past him, up the stairs, and locked herself in her room. The once-proud Penelope collapsed onto the creaky bed and stared at the cracked ceiling.
Why had she done it all?
For love?
For revenge?
For power?
None of it mattered now.
No one wanted her.
Not Silvester.
Not Desmond.
Not even Stephen, her own brother, could stand her.
For days, she stayed quiet. Barely speaking. She tried to reach out to one of her old friends—Cassie—but Cassie blocked her. Another door slammed.
She found herself watching Cinderella's old vlogs online. The ones that hadn't been deleted. In one, Cinderella was laughing with her late mother. In another, she was reading a poem aloud at a university competition.
Penelope had to admit it—Cinderella had a quiet strength. One she had underestimated.
She envied it now.
Stephen finally burst one evening. "You just going to rot here? Do something. At least I'm trying to freelance. What are you doing? Pouting in your room and crying every night?"
She glared. "Shut up. You don't know what I'm feeling."
"Oh, trust me," he growled, storming out, "I feel every single consequence of your stupidity."
Penelope stared at the wall long after he was gone.
Maybe he was right.
But what could she do?
She wasn't Cinderella.
She wasn't strong.
She was broken.
And it would take everything she had to even begin picking up the pieces.
---
Meanwhile, in the Harper estate, Desmond sat in his study with Cinderella. The room was quiet save for the ticking of the old grandfather clock. He was holding a letter—Penelope had written.
"She says she's sorry," he murmured, voice low.
Cinderella looked at him. "Do you believe her?"
He sighed. "I want to. But forgiveness doesn't mean forgetting."
Cinderella nodded. "I know. And I don't think she's ready for forgiveness yet."
He placed the letter down. "She's facing her punishment now. Life without luxury. Without status. Without the lies she once clung to."
Cinderella said nothing.
Desmond turned to her, his expression softening. "I want you to know—I see you. I see how far you've come."
She smiled faintly. "Thanks, Dad. That means a lot."
And in that quiet moment, while Penelope sat in a cold room with regret as her only companion, Cinderella finally felt a sense of peace.
Justice wasn't always about trials or punishments.
Sometimes, it was just life correcting itself.
And in that correction, Cinderella was finally free.
Penelope, however, wasn't one to sulk for too long. She was determined to claw her way back into the world she had once dominated. But it didn't take long for her to realize that the world had closed its doors.
Her first stop was a boutique fashion store in town, one she used to scoff at when she was chauffeured past in luxury cars. Now, standing in line in borrowed heels, she handed over her resume to the manager with a strained smile.
"We'll get back to you," the manager said with a tight-lipped expression.
But they never did.
Every job she applied for was met with awkward glances, hesitant smiles, and ultimately rejection. The unspoken judgment was suffocating.
At one point, she turned to Stephen.
"Do you think your internship contact could help me?" she asked.
Stephen scoffed. "They already told me they're not interested. Once they heard the name Harper… it was over."
Penelope's stomach twisted.
The rumors had spread like wildfire. Every whispered conversation seemed to carry her name. Some people said she had helped cover up Rebecca's crime. Others claimed she had bullied Cinderella so viciously, Desmond himself kicked her out.
And in a way, all of it was true.
She walked the streets with her head low, no longer the queen bee but a pariah. Even old acquaintances from school crossed the street to avoid her.
One afternoon, she visited a friend from her old dance class, Olivia, hoping to ask for help finding a job.
Olivia welcomed her in with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"I heard what happened," she said, pouring juice into mismatched glasses.
Penelope tried to smile. "It's not all true, you know. People exaggerate."
Olivia looked at her for a long moment before replying. "You made life hell for a lot of people, Penelope. Cinderella wasn't the only one. Maybe this is karma catching up."
Penelope left without finishing her drink.
Desperation finally drove her to consider applying for an opening at a local diner.
"Waitressing?" she whispered to herself, staring at the ad on the bulletin board. But pride warred with necessity, and for now, pride still won.
She returned home to find their mailbox stuffed with bills. Their father's old savings were draining fast. Stephen barely spoke, spending more time on his laptop than anything else. He claimed he was trying to secure something abroad, but Penelope knew better.
One night, she sat in the living room, scrolling through her phone, watching as Cinderella's name popped up in photos online—smiling, glowing, happy.
She hurled the phone across the room.
It wasn't fair.
But deep down, she knew it was. Cinderella had earned every bit of her peace, while Penelope was now living with the consequences of her own cruelty.
The world she once ruled with snide comments and glittering charm had turned its back on her.
And this time, no amount of charm or manipulation could fix it.