“Cinderella! Cinderella!”

Ella goarn as she heard the annoying sound of the voice of her stepmother calling her.

Ella groaned as she dragged herself out of bed, resenting the early morning call to action. The creaky door protested as she swung it open, revealing a room filled with the remnants of her restless night. "Why does everything have to be so complicated?" she muttered, eyeing the disarray of clothes and books scattered around.

With a heavy sigh, Ella embarked on the journey downstairs, her steps echoing in the silent house. As she descended, the weight of the day's impending chores settled on her shoulders like an unwelcome burden. "Of course, she'd give me the most tedious tasks," she mumbled under her breath, a scowl forming on her face.

The kitchen came into view, and there stood her stepmother, an authoritative figure with an unwavering expression. Ella couldn't help but roll her eyes, anticipating the list of chores about to be handed down like a royal decree. "Morning," her stepmother greeted, her tone devoid of warmth.

Ella's response was a half-hearted mumble, her eyes narrowing as she braced herself for the inevitable. "You know, I have a life too," she grumbled quietly, but not quietly enough to escape her stepmother's notice.

Her stepmother handed her a list, a detailed account of tasks that seemed to multiply with each passing day. Ella scanned it, her frustration growing with every item. "Scrubbing floors, washing dishes, and what's this? Polishing every piece of silverware? Is she trying to turn me into a maid?" Ella muttered, crumpling the list in her hands.

As she began the first chore, Ella's grumbling continued, a constant background noise to the clatter of scrubbing brushes and the swish of water in the sink. "Why can't she ask the stepsisters to do some of this? Oh no, that would be too much to ask," Ella huffed, the resentment building within her.

Her mind drifted to dreams of freedom, of a life not bound by endless household duties. "Someday, I'll escape this monotonous routine. I'll find a way to break free from this never-ending cycle of chores," she thought, a spark of determination flickering in her eyes.

Yet, reality crashed back as she moved to the next task, each one feeling like a step deeper into servitude. "If only she knew how much I despise this," Ella whispered to herself, fervently scrubbing at a stubborn stain on the kitchen counter.

The monotony of chores continued, Ella's grumbling evolving into a silent rebellion. With each sweep of the broom and each wiped surface, she yearned for a life beyond the confines of her stepmother's demands. "I deserve more than this," she thought, a fire burning in her eyes despite the weariness in her bones.

As the day unfolded, Ella's inner dialogue persisted, a constant companion to her mundane activities. "I won't be trapped forever. There has to be a way out," she vowed silently, the promise echoing in the quiet corners of her mind.

And so, Ella carried on, a reluctant servant on the surface but a determined dreamer beneath it all. The grumbling persisted, but within it lay the seeds of resilience, waiting for the right moment to sprout into a story of liberation and triumph.

Ella, finally free from the clutches of household chores, retreated to her room with a mix of relief and exhaustion. The list of tasks her stepmother had assigned seemed endless, but now, a new chapter awaited her outside the confines of her home.

As she scanned her closet for suitable attire, Ella couldn't shake the bitterness that lingered from the morning's chores. "One day, I'll have my own kingdom, and it won't involve scrubbing floors and polishing silver," she muttered defiantly, her reflection in the mirror echoing her determination.

With a deep breath, she chose an outfit that seamlessly transitioned from servant to professional. Ella wasn't just a maid; she was also the unsung hero behind the scenes of her late father's event company. Today, like any other day, she would step into the administrative section, where her true talents shone.

Arriving at the office, Ella navigated through the sea of cubicles, her presence met with nods of recognition and sympathetic glances. The once vibrant and lively atmosphere of her father's company had dulled under her stepmother's management. "This place used to be full of life," she sighed inwardly, lamenting the changes that had taken root.

Entering her cramped office, Ella was greeted by the stacks of paperwork that seemed to multiply in her absence. "It's like the chaos follows me from home," she grumbled, tossing her bag onto the desk. The weight of responsibility rested heavily on her shoulders as she sifted through the mess left by her stepmother's neglect.

As she delved into the administrative abyss, Ella couldn't help but reflect on the stark contrast between her father's vision and the current state of affairs. "Dad built this from the ground up, and now it's crumbling in her hands," she whispered to herself, the frustration evident in her furrowed brow.

Throughout the day, Ella worked tirelessly, attempting to salvage what remained of the company's reputation. She fielded calls, organized schedules, and handled the myriad tasks that her stepmother seemed to dismiss as inconsequential. "Doesn't she see what she's doing to Dad's legacy?" Ella questioned, her fingers dancing across the keyboard in a rhythm fueled by determination.

Despite the challenges, Ella found solace in her work. The administrative section became her sanctuary, a place where she could channel her grief and frustration into something productive. "I won't let this crumble. Dad's dream deserves better," she vowed silently, a fierce glint in her eyes as she battled against the tide of mismanagement.

As the day wore on, Ella's colleagues observed her resilience with admiration. "If only she were in charge," they whispered among themselves, acknowledging the stark contrast between her dedication and her stepmother's negligence. The office walls echoed with the collective hope for change.

Exiting the office that evening, Ella couldn't shake the weight of responsibility that clung to her like a shadow. The company, once a beacon of success, now teetered on the brink of decline. "I won't let it fall apart. I can't," she muttered, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon as if seeking guidance from her late father.

Despite the challenges at home and work, Ella carried the torch of determination. She was more than a servant and more than an employee; she was the guardian of her father's legacy. As she stepped into the fading sunlight, the echoes of her grumbles transformed into a silent promise – a promise to restore the company to its former glory, to defy the odds, and to rise above the hardships that sought to define her.

The evening shadows clung to Ella as she wearily made her way back home, leaving the remnants of her workday behind. The weight of responsibility followed her like a ghost, lingering in the air as she approached the familiar doorway. With each step, the contrast between the vibrancy of her father's company and its current dilapidated state gnawed at her resolve.

Upon entering, the chores awaited her like faithful companions. Ella moved through them with practiced efficiency, the routine a familiar dance. As she scrubbed and cleaned, her mind whirred with thoughts of the company's future, a future that seemed increasingly bleak under her stepmother's misguided management.

Once the last dish was dried and the final surface polished, Ella retreated to her room. The dim light cast a somber glow, accentuating the seriousness of her contemplations. Seated at her desk, she surveyed the room, a battlefield of dreams tarnished by the harsh reality of her stepmother's incompetence.

A deep breath steadied her nerves as Ella began to brainstorm, a cascade of ideas flooding her mind. "I need to save Dad's company," she whispered, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the worn-out desk. The weight of the challenge ahead seemed insurmountable, but determination burned in her eyes.

The first step was clear – she needed to regain control. Ella envisioned a strategic plan to reallocate resources, streamline operations, and rekindle the spark that had once defined her father's company. "I can't let it crumble under her watch," she vowed, scribbling notes and diagrams on a notepad.

As she delved deeper into her thoughts, Ella's room transformed into a command center, papers scattered across the desk like a roadmap to redemption. The daunting task ahead required not only organizational prowess but also the ability to navigate the delicate balance between honoring her father's legacy and steering the company towards a brighter future.

The hum of the city outside faded into background noise as Ella immersed herself in her mission. The possibilities and challenges danced before her like shadows, each one demanding a thoughtful response. "I won't let his dream die," she declared with a quiet resolve, her gaze fixed on the flickering candle casting a warm glow on her determined face.

In the quiet solitude of her room, Ella found solace in her pursuit of a better future for her father's company. The night unfolded with the rhythmic scratch of her pen against paper, a symphony of ideas taking shape. As she lay down to rest, exhaustion mingled with anticipation, for tomorrow held the promise of a new beginning – a chance to defy the odds and reclaim what was rightfully her father's legacy.

In the quiet hours of the night, just as Ella was drifting into a realm of dreams, a sudden announcement echoed through the room. The television, a source of intermittent background noise, suddenly grabbed her attention with a captivating revelation.

"Breaking news," the news anchor declared with a tone of excitement, "Eric, the fourth son of the Alpha of the Royal Moon Pack, is set to marry Anna, the sister of the Alpha of Dark Lunar Pack. A union of two powerful werewolf clans that promises to be a celebration of grandeur and tradition."

Ella's ears perked up at the mention of the upcoming wedding. The revelation, like a spark in the darkness, ignited a flicker of inspiration within her. She sat up in bed, the possibilities swirling in her mind like a whirlwind of stars. The wheels of her imagination turned with newfound vigor.

An idea took root, blossoming in the quiet recesses of her thoughts. "What if I could secure the contract to plan their wedding?" Ella whispered to herself, the notion growing into a full-fledged plan. The prospect of orchestrating a union between two prestigious werewolf packs presented an opportunity to elevate her father's company from the shadows of neglect.

With renewed determination, Ella envisioned the grandeur of the event, the intricate details, and the flawless execution of every aspect. "This could be the breakthrough I need," she mused, a smile playing on her lips. The wedding of Eric and Anna, a union of significance in the supernatural world, could be her ticket to financial independence.

As sleep claimed her, dreams of elegant decorations, ethereal moonlit settings, and joyous celebrations danced in her mind. Ella, now the architect of this majestic event, saw herself navigating through the complexities of werewolf traditions and pack dynamics with finesse. The moonlit night became her canvas, and the wedding, her masterpiece.

Morning arrived with a sense of purpose, and Ella woke with the residue of her visionary night still lingering. The thought of acquiring the contract fueled her steps as she navigated through the routines of the day. "I can make this happen. I can save Dad's company," she affirmed, a newfound determination glinting in her eyes.

Armed with a plan, Ella delved into the world of event proposals, intricate designs, and persuasive pitches. The Royal Moon Pack and Dark Lunar Pack were renowned for their discerning taste and uncompromising standards. Ella knew she needed to craft a proposal that not only met but exceeded their expectations.

Days turned into nights as she tirelessly worked on her proposal, meticulously detailing every element of the envisioned celebration. The anticipation of presenting her ideas to the Alpha families fueled her efforts, and as the proposal took shape, Ella felt a surge of pride. This wasn't just a job; it was her lifeline to freedom.

With the polished proposal in hand, Ella secured a meeting with the Alphas. As she stood before them, confidence radiated from her like a beacon. She painted a vivid picture of a wedding that would be remembered for generations, a union that transcended tradition and embraced innovation. The Alphas, captivated by her vision, nodded in approval.

The contract was hers, and with it, the promise of a financial windfall that could sever the chains of her stepmother's control over her father's company. As she left the meeting, Ella couldn't contain the triumphant smile that adorned her face. The path to reclaiming her father's legacy now lay before her.

That night, as she lay in bed, sleep came with ease. Dreams of a successful wedding planning venture and the prospect of reclaiming her father's company painted a serene landscape in her mind. Ella drifted into a peaceful slumber, the smile on her face reflecting the hope and determination that now fueled her journey.

Every year, on the inevitable occasion when Alpha Xenon found himself compelled to depart from the sanctuary of the castle, his return marked a transformation into a foul-tempered beast. The outside world held scant allure for him, and participating in its affairs felt like an onerous burden, one that bore down heavily on his shoulders. The respite from this ordeal only came when he could finally soar above the landscapes in his helicopter, abandoning the cities that begrudgingly demanded his presence. As he ascended into the skies, leaving civilization in his wake, the helicopter navigated over the renowned alpine forests that adorned the mountainous ridges. The very same ridges that had become synonymous with the castle he had, for the past six years, called home. With every passing moment in the air, the distance between him and the outside world increased, and the anticipation of returning to the castle intensified. The journey back was not just a physical return but a retreat into the solace and familiarity of the castle, where the oppressive weight of the world outside could be left behind, and the tranquility of his haven could once again envelop him.

It rose from the cliff faces like a specter of magic. On cloudy afternoons, the turrets of the towers appeared almost to hover, free-floating miles above the ravines that fell all the way to northern Italy, and, despite the romantic beauty of the centuries-old towers, Alpha Xenon felt an affinity with the ruggedness of their positioning.

They too did not belong.

And so here they stayed, two outcasts on the edges of civilization. It was almost impossible to remember now the parties his parents used to throw here, the way the castle used to hum with life and joy.

As Alpha Xenon brought his helicopter lower, circling around the castle to the landing pad at the rear, he saw something that made him swallow a dark curse.

A car.

Small and black, parked right near the front door to the castile.

Alpha Xenon found immense satisfaction in the castle's remoteness, relishing the narrow and winding road leading to it. The road, though existing, deterred casual tourists, ensuring that the natural conclusion of their journey remained the castle, preventing any further traffic intrusion. In this secluded haven, he reveled in the solitude, relishing the complete absence of others, a circumstance that suited his preferences perfectly. The day had commenced with him waking up in a foul mood, a common occurrence whenever the necessity of travel loomed. As the hours progressed, his mood only soured further, exacerbated by an insatiable desire to return home. All he yearned for was the solace of his dwelling, a place where he could cleanse himself in the sanctuary of a shower, liberating his mind from the lingering memories of people, his tumultuous past, the weight of history, and the burden of guilt that shadowed him relentlessly.

He cut the rotor blades but stayed in the helicopter as they slowed, trying to bring his temper under control. He expelled a long, slow breath, his nostrils flaring, then pushed open the side door. It was crisp up here, despite the fact that spring was reaching through the rest of the northern hemisphere, bringing flowers, sunshine and optimism. At the top of the world, the clouds were gray, the trees heavy with fallen snow. He stepped out of the helicopter, slamming the door and stalking towards the steps that would lead to the back door of his palace.

He didn’t know who’d dared to breach his sanctuary, but he would tell them to leave, in no uncertain terms. Alpha Xenon Lucas was not in the mood for being nice.

***

Ella's anxiety surpassed mere nervousness; it was an overwhelming sensation that enveloped her entirely. Her unease stemmed not only from the audacious act of arriving uninvited at the castle of a notoriously reclusive billionaire, a proposal clutched tightly in hand, but also from the profound implications this proposal held for her future. The prospect of becoming the events coordinator for his sister's wedding carried a weight that extended beyond the ordinary. Should he choose to accept her proposition, it had the power to fundamentally transform Ella's life. The financial remuneration alone promised a substantial windfall, enough to secure a significant bank loan. This, in turn, would enable her to liberate herself from the clutches of her detestable stepmother, finally reclaiming control of her late father's business.

Yet, the significance of this opportunity transcended monetary gain. It was a chance for Ella to prove her mettle, not only to herself but also to those who had doubted her capabilities. Securing this pivotal role was not just a career advancement; it was a personal triumph, a validation of her skills and potential. As she approached the daunting task of convincing the elusive billionaire that she was the perfect fit for the job, Ella recognized that success in this endeavor would mark a turning point in her life, one where she could assert her competence and defy the skepticism that had long shadowed her aspirations.

There wasn’t a lot of information about Alpha Xenon on the Internet. Up to a point, there were tons of photographs: a young, handsome party-boy bachelor who seemed to go from one event to another—she was familiar with the type. But when tragedy struck and his parents were killed in a house fire, he disappeared from the public eye. For the last six years, he’d almost faded from existence, so it took some sniffing around for Ella to secure the address of his hideaway here in the Alps, on the border of his Pack.

His younger sister, Anna, was easier to research. While she kept a low profile, she’d recently become engaged to Eric the fourth son of the reigning Alpha of the Royal Lunar Pack, and so there’d been a spate of interviews. Lucinda had spent weeks analyzing them, studying them, learning what she could about the soon-to-be Princess and weaving those titbits into her proposal. Sheknewit was good. Great, in fact. She just had to convince Alpha Xenon Lucas of that.

If he ever turned up!

Having arrived at the castle some hours earlier, she’d waited in her car a while, before moving into the foyer of the house and then, finally, going a little deeper, when the tea she’d had on the drive up had caught up with her and she’d needed to relieve herself. Only the search for amenities had taken her past the most stunning library, with triple-height ceilings and walls lined with ancient books. Was there really any harm in waiting for him there? She had decided not, and so it was here, in the library, curled up in an armchair with a very old copy ofWar and Peace In her hands, that Alpha Xenon discovered her.

Ella wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting. His good looks were well established. She’d seen photographs of him online, taken years earlier, with his swarthy complexion, eyes darker than night, brows thick and straight, nose aquiline, jaw square—but the man who strode into the library looking as though he wanted to strangle something or someone was very, very different. Oh, his face showed the relics of that handsome young man, but his expression was so angry, so serious, that it was impossible to reconcile him with the smiling, carefree bachelor. And he was such a man—all six and a half feet of steel and strength; there was a darkness to his energy that was overpowering. Lucinda scrambled to her feet, thrusting the book guiltily onto the armchair, all professionalism forgotten in the face of Alpha Xenon’s overt masculinity.

‘Who the hell are you?’ His accent was crisper than the temperature outside. His voice was rough, thick and hoarse, as though he didn’t use it often. As though he was angry to be using it now.

Lucinda swallowed past a bundle of nerves.

‘Alpha Xenon Skartos?’

‘You are in my house,’ he said succinctly. ‘Do you think you have any right to ask me questions?’

She had not expected this degree of animosity. ‘I have been trying to contact you via phone,’ she responded haughtily, forgetting for a moment how badly she needed his business. ‘You haven’t returned my calls.’

‘Most people would take that as a hint.’

‘I’m not most people.’

His nostrils flared as he crossed his arms over his chest, staring at her wordlessly, so Lucinda’s pulse ratcheted up without warning, without explanation. She bit down on her lower lip, then quickly stopped, when his very dark eyes dropped to the gesture, slowly appraising it, and then, her face.

‘You are not welcome here.’

‘I just need a moment of your time.’

Skepticism tightened his face. ‘Do you not understand English?’