Stealing Cinderella(5)
When I collapse onto the bed, I’m exhausted, but my guilt won’t let me rest. I promised Olivia I’d give her the money from my sewing projects this week, and now I have to break that promise. That money was supposed to go toward food or vet bills, but instead, it will probably go straight into a Botox injection for Narcissa’s face.
Reaching for the notepad on the bedside table, I consider writing another letter to the prince’s secretary. During my research some time ago, I’d discovered that I could nominate a charity for the royal family to review. But first, it has to go through the secretary, and the secretary will only pass it on if they believe it to be something of interest. I’ve been trying for months, but so far, it’s gotten me nowhere. While I’ve submitted to several members of the royal family, I believe Prince Aston is my best bet. He seems to be more approachable, and I noticed he’s already working with several other animal charities.
My pillow vibrates, and I peek at the door to make sure I’m in the clear before I retrieve the phone Charlotte gave me. My best friend since primary school, Charlotte comes from a well-to-do family. She has a weekly allowance from her parents and a brand-new car, and she insisted that I had to have a mobile phone at the very least. I accepted it reluctantly, but Narcissa can never know I have it.
When I check the notifications, I find two texts from Charlotte, both asking me to video chat her when I’m not busy. Pulling up the app we use to communicate, I click on her name. After two rings, her face pops into view, her blue eyes wild with excitement.
“Oh my God, Ella!” she squeals. “I have the biggest news ever. You aren’t going to believe it!”
“Bigger than your engagement last week?” I arch a brow at her. “That seems unlikely.”
“Even bigger than that.” She nods eagerly. “Did you hear about the royal ball?”
“All night long.” I roll my eyes. “Narcissa and the girls are planning their attack as we speak.”
“Okay, well, forget them for a second and picture this.” She waves the phone around as she speaks, making me dizzy. “You’re in a beautiful ballgown at the royal palace, chatting up Prince Aston himself.”
“Are you high? Did you get into your father’s edibles again?”
“No, I’m not high.” Her eyes sparkle with laughter. “Ella, this is real. I wouldn’t even tease you like that.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask reluctantly.
“I got an invitation to the masked charity ball!” she sings. “And as much as I’d love to go, Oliver and I have plans that night.”
“So, you think I’m going to go?” I stare at her as though she’s lost her mind. Forget the edibles. I think she’s on an acid trip.
“Obviously!” She fluffs her hair in the reflection of the screen. “How many chances do you think you’ll get to talk to the prince about Hilliard Sanctuary in person?”
“I wouldn’t get within ten feet of him.” I laugh. “I’m sure he’s just there to make an appearance.”
“No.” Charlotte wags her finger. “He’s on the list of eligible royal bachelors. And I bought you a charity ticket for a speed date. So, if you play your cards right, you can have a full uninterrupted five minutes to pour your heart out to him.”
“What do you mean you bought me a charity ticket?” I can’t hide my shock. “That must have cost—”
“A fortune,” she finishes for me. “It did. So, this is why you HAVE to go. No backing out.”
“Charlotte, why would you do that?”
“Because I love you, and you never get to do anything like this. That’s what BFFs are for. Besides, I know how much that sanctuary means to you. I can’t stand the thought of it going under either. This is what you’ve been working toward. This is your golden opportunity.”
It sounds like the craziest idea ever. But even as I tell myself that, I’m nodding along because she’s right. When will I ever have a chance like this again? There’s a real possibility I could put an end to the sanctuary’s financial troubles for good. I could save everything Olivia’s been working for and ensure the animals have a place to stay.
“There’s just one problem,” I say.
“What?” Charlotte quirks her brow.
“The whole family is going. Somehow, they managed to get tickets too.”
“Don’t worry.” She grins. “I have a plan, Ella. I always do.”
2
Thorsen
“How are you feeling today, Thorsen?”
Dr. Blom studies me as I tinker with the scattered pieces of the model sailing ship on my desk. I’d imagine he’s tired of this routine by now, but there isn’t a Tuesday when he doesn’t show up. Every week for eight years, just like clockwork. Dr. Blom is my father’s solution for my unfavorable mental state or more aptly, my disagreeability.
“I feel fine.” I adjust the hull, sliding another piece into position.
“You’re making some progress there,” he notes.
My eyes skim over the pieces in search of the cannons. I manage to retrieve one from the pile before he fires off another question.