Ella Langston's world had always been one of contradictions. Before her mother’s death when Ella was just six, her life had been filled with love and warmth. Her father, Henry Langston, doted on her, and their home, the sprawling Langston mansion, was a sanctuary of laughter and quiet evenings. They would spend hours reading or talking about the future, a time of security and comfort. But everything changed when Vivienne Tremaine entered their lives.

Ella had learned to live with grief from an early age. Her mother, Lillian, passed away after years of battling leukaemia. Ella still remembered the faint hospital smell that clung to her mother’s favourite cardigan and the way her dad would carry her on his shoulders during hospital visits, always trying to cheer her up. Lillian’s death was a blow that Ella would never fully recover from, but her father, Henry, stepped up.

In the wake of the loss, Henry poured all his love into raising Ella while managing Langston Ventures — a multinational company that dealt in high-end real estate, tech investments, and luxury resorts. For years, it was just the two of them, navigating life in their grand home. Yet, despite the wealth and success, grief lingered in the corners of their lives. Henry's long hours away on business didn't help, and the emptiness left by Lillian's absence grew more pronounced.

...

When Ella turned thirteen, everything changed. That was the year Vivienne Tremaine entered their lives. She wasn’t just any assistant — Vivienne was Henry’s personal assistant; a glamorous woman who embodied everything Ella’s mother wasn’t. Polished, fashionable, and endlessly ambitious, Vivienne always wore Louboutin heels and carried a designer handbag to match.

Vivienne’s cold ambition and sharp social climbing soon began to overshadow the warmth that once filled their home. Along with her came her twin daughters — Drizella and Anastasia — whose presence only deepened the growing tension in the house. While Vivienne presented herself as a refined, grieving widow, behind closed doors her controlling nature and manipulative charm slowly took root.

Leah Marie, the younger sister of Ella’s late mother, Lillian Marie-Langston, saw through Vivienne’s carefully crafted façade from the beginning. She warned Henry to be cautious and not to fall for Vivienne’s carefully spun lies. But Henry, caught between grief and the hope of rebuilding a family for Ella, dismissed Leah’s concerns — believing she was simply being possessive or perhaps resentful. He even accused her of not wanting Ella to have a new mother, and worse, of suspecting him of betraying Lillian’s memory. With his heart clouded, he brushed Leah off, unknowingly setting the stage for everything that followed.

“She’s not replacing your mother,” Henry assured Ella when Vivienne first started coming around for “family dinners”. But by the time Ella hit eighth grade, Vivienne and her twin daughters, Drizella and Anastasia, were moving into the Langston mansion.

A successful businessman and political ambassador, Henry Langston was tragically killed in a plane crash, just two years after marrying Vivienne. His sudden death left Ella completely vulnerable.

As his lawfully wedded wife, Vivienne was named the legal guardian of his only child, the keeper of his assets, and the sole executor of his will. Everything—his estate, his wealth, and all decisions regarding Ella’s future—fell under her control. What was once a home filled with hope and love became a gilded cage, with Ella trapped inside, powerless to fight the woman her father had trusted most.

The twins were everything Ella wasn’t — loud, superficial, and vain. Their days revolved around social media followers, shopping sprees, and the relentless pursuit of appearances, brands, and status. Ella found herself stuck in servitude, picking up after them, running errands, and doing whatever she could to keep Vivienne’s world running smoothly.

One evening, Drizella ordered from the couch, “Ella, get me my Chanel. I need another selfie for my followers.” She tossed the purse to the floor like it was trash and kept scrolling, expecting Ella to fetch it.

Anastasia, lying beside her in a Juicy Couture hoodie, let out a smug laugh. “Ugh, my selfie from this morning is blowing up,” she said, flipping her screen around. “Hundreds of fire emojis and tons of DMs already. I'm literally an icon.”

Ella bent down to pick up the purse, her hands shaking but her mouth silent. She’d learned to be invisible, enduring their teasing and constant demands in silence. The twins didn’t just ignore her — they actively humiliated her, making her life harder with every passing day.

Drizella and Anastasia were obsessed with social media, spending their time perfecting TikTok dances, cancel culture rants, and thirst traps for attention, plus convincing Vivienne to fund endless shopping sprees at Louis Vuitton or Gucci.

They had no interest in work or school. At twenty-five, they were jobless and content to leech off their mother’s wealth — or rather, Ella’s father’s wealth.

“Mom, when are we going to the Maldives again?” Anastasia whined one morning during brunch, scrolling through Instagram while sipping from a green smoothie she didn’t even like.

“You promised a summer trip in Fiji,” Drizella chimed in, lifting her head from her iced latte long enough to pout dramatically.

Vivienne sighed dramatically, brushing back her perfectly styled strawberry blonde shoulder-length hair. “Girls, I’m working on it. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to run a company?”

Ella bit her tongue, watching from the kitchen. She knew the truth—Vivienne didn’t ‘run’ anything. She let a team of overqualified executives keep Langston Ventures afloat while she focused on Botox appointments and Instagrammable luncheons.

The twins, however, didn’t care. They continued to talk about their favorite YouTuber’s new merch drop and whether they should DM him for a collab “just for fun.”

The Langston mansion, once filled with warmth and laughter, had become a cold, hostile place. Vivienne took over every aspect of the household — redecorating the library into a minimalist lounge no one used and she threw out all of Lillian’s garden furniture, calling it “too rustic.”

Ella had overheard Drizella once sneering, “We’re getting rid of that crusty old furniture from the backyard, right? It’s literally giving antique store dumpster.”

Vivienne shrugged. “Sentimental nonsense. Everything from your side of the family is irrelevant now.”

Ella’s heart sank. Every piece of her mother’s memory seemed to be disappearing, and she had no control over it.

But despite it all, Ella clung to a dream. Each night, she wrote in her journal, sketching out her escape, mapping routes toward a life where she could breathe. A future built on her own choices, not someone else’s control.

Ella spent most of her time in her attic bedroom, the one space Vivienne hadn’t bothered to touch. Cramped but cozy, it was filled with well-worn books, a tiny desk covered in old competition trophies, and a corkboard pinned with debate team snapshots, hand-scribbled quotes, and Polaroids of her best friends, Jacqualine and Augustine.

...

At seventeen, Ella thought she’d finally found a way out. She had been accepted to Harvard’s prestigious Law and Business program — a dream she had worked tirelessly toward. But Vivienne crushed that dream instantly.

“Harvard?” Vivienne said, raising an arched brow as she held the letter like it was trash. “That’s cute, but who’s going to pay for it? You think scholarships cover everything? Be realistic, Ella. You belong here — with your family.” Even though Ella knew she didn’t mean the ‘family’ part, not really. It was just another leash, disguised as love.

Ella later discovered that Vivienne hadn’t just intercepted the letter, but the follow-up emails as well. She had no intention of letting Ella leave, especially not to claim the future her father had envisioned for her.

Vivienne had caught wind of Ella’s plans to escape and sabotaged them. Ella’s acceptance letter was "lost in the mail" — except it wasn’t. Vivienne had intercepted it, convinced that Harvard would make Ella’s position in the family even more dangerous.

When Ella confronted Vivienne, she was met with cold, dismissive words.

“You’re staying here, Ella. That’s what matters,” Vivienne had said, her voice chillingly firm. “You really think you’ll make it out there? What do you think you’ll do, live in some cramped dorm room? Harvard’s not for girls like you. You’re not that smart. You can’t possess the knowledge, not in a place like Harvard. You’d be a laughingstock, just a small-minded girl pretending she belongs.”

Ella's heart sank as Vivienne’s words cut through her.

...

After graduation, with the constant tension at home, Ella clung to any shred of normalcy she could find — like the occasional meetups with her childhood friends, Jaq and Gus. One afternoon, after running errands and picking up groceries for the family, she met them at the supermarket.

Jaq — tall and thin, always with her brown hair pulled into a ponytail and glasses perched above her freckled nose — greeted her with a warm smile. Gus, chubby and more reserved, stood quietly by her side, eyes half-glued to the game on his phone.

“Ella, don’t let them get to you,” Jaq said, as they walked through the aisles together, catching up.

The twins had been flaunting their latest shopping spree in front of Ella, and the humiliation from their constant taunting had nearly broken her.

“I can’t help it,” Ella murmured, picking up a carton of eggs. “They make me feel like nothing.”

“They’re just jealous,” Gus added softly, his voice warm with understanding. “They see how hard you work, and they’re afraid of what you could do if you got out of here.”

Ella sighed, grateful for their kindness, but the weight of her situation was always heavy. She couldn’t get out — Vivienne made sure of that.

As they turned the corner into the baking aisle, an awkward silence settled between them. Jaq kept glancing at Gus, who seemed suddenly very interested in the label of a flour bag. Ella noticed.

“What’s going on?” she asked, eyeing them both.

Jaq shifted uncomfortably. “There’s something we’ve been meaning to tell you… but we didn’t want to upset you.”

Ella paused, arms crossed loosely over the shopping basket. “You’re not pregnant, are you?” she teased, trying to break the tension.

Jaq gave a nervous laugh. “No, but… we both got in. University. Our dream choices.”

Ella blinked. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Gus said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m going to London. Games Programming. It’s a whole thing — coding, design, even VR.”

Jaq smiled shyly. “I got into the University of York. Psychology in Education.”

For a second, Ella just stared at them. And then, unexpectedly, her eyes welled up with tears. She laughed, shaking her head, trying to wipe them away but failing.

“You’re crying,” Gus said gently.

“I know,” she sniffled, grinning. “But I’m so — God, I’m so happy for you guys. Really. Like... my heart feels too full.”

“You’re not mad?” Jaq asked, visibly relieved.

“Mad?” Ella shook her head, tears still spilling. “No. You guys made it. You’re doing the thing we always dreamed about when we were twelve and hiding in the treehouse, remember?”

She reached out, and they all clumsily pulled into a tight group hug, right between shelves of sugar and cake mix.

For a moment, everything else — Vivienne, the twins, the weight of home — melted away. There was only this: their laughter, the warmth, and the promise that not all stories end in cages.

...

By twenty-three, Ella’s life felt like a never-ending episode of survival. She handled most of the household chores, ran errands, and even managed Vivienne’s over-the-top requests, like organizing catered dinners for her “business associates.”

Vivienne, of course, insisted that Ella stay out of sight during these events.

“It’s not personal, darling,” Vivienne said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “There’s a certain standard here. I’m just trying to save you from feeling... awkward.”

Drizella and Anastasia were no better. They constantly found ways to humiliate Ella, from spilling drinks on her in public to sneaking into her room and posting embarrassing photos online. Even in high school, Ella had saved up for months to buy a simple, elegant dress for prom — a strapless number in a soft lavender hue. On the day of the event, Ella found the dress shredded in her closet, accompanied by a glittery handwritten note on her desk:

“Lavender’s not your colour, dear. Try black — it’s slimming!”

It didn’t take a detective to figure out who was behind it. Drizella and Anastasia showed up at prom wearing near-identical sequined bodycon gowns — one in emerald green with an open back, and the other in blood red, cut to show cleavage. They flaunted their outfits, ensuring everyone noticed Ella’s absence.

“Still reading those old books?” Drizella sneered one afternoon, finding Ella nose-deep in a hardcover. “You know no one cares about how smart you are, right?”

Anastasia cackled, holding up her phone. “Maybe we should post this on TikTok. ‘When your stepsister thinks she’s still in high school.’”

"We should totally post this," Drizella said, giggling. “Or maybe...‘Do you think Goodwill does returns? Because that outfit is a cry for help.’”

"Smile, Ella!" one of them called out, snapping a photo without even asking. The sound of the shutter felt like a slap in the face.

"Let’s see those pearly whites!" she added with a forced cheerfulness.

Ella ignored them, retreating upstairs with her book. If there was one thing she had learned, it was how to tune out the noise.

"Lil bitch can’t even take a joke," one of them snorted.

"Hahaha, is it though?" the other one shot back with a mock innocent look, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

...

Suddenly that evening, the house was unusually loud. Ella was in her room, halfway through reorganizing her bookshelf, when the twins’ shrieking echoed from the living room.

“You’re kidding!” Anastasia screamed.

“No way,” Drizella added, her voice rising with excitement.

Ella sighed, debating whether to ignore them, but curiosity won. She made her way downstairs, lingering at the edge of the room. The twins were huddled around Vivienne, who was holding her phone like a prized possession.

“What’s going on?” Ella asked cautiously.

Vivienne looked up, her red lips curving into a smug smile. “Oh, Ella. Don’t you know? The King and Queen just announced a royal ball. Everyone’s talking about it. It’s all over TikTok and Instagram.”

Ella frowned. “A royal ball?”

Vivienne nodded. “Prince Carnelian Charming is finally looking for a bride. The palace sent out an open invitation to every eligible young woman in the kingdom. It’s the social event of the year.”

The twins practically vibrated with excitement. “We’re going,” Drizella declared, as if it were already decided. “Mom, we need dresses. And makeup artists. And hair stylists. Oh my God, we need to book them now.”

“Relax,” Vivienne said. “We’ll make it happen.”

The twins, of course, were ecstatic. Drizella had already started researching dresses, while Anastasia declared she would “do whatever it takes to catch the prince’s eye.” Vivienne’s excitement had only fuelled the girls’ superficial plans.

Ella hesitated, her heart skipping a beat. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to dream. A royal ball could be her chance to escape — even for one night.

But then Vivienne’s gaze snapped to her. “And don’t even think about it, Ella. You’ll be too busy helping us prepare. Besides, that kind of event isn’t for someone like you.”

Drizella laughed, her voice a cruel, high-pitched sound. “Maybe you can dust the mansion while we go live it up,” she said, and Anastasia giggled in response.

Ella’s chest tightened. Of course, Vivienne would never let her go.

That night, Ella lay awake in her tiny attic room, staring at the ceiling. She thought about her parents, her dreams of Harvard, and the life she had been robbed of.

But as tears threatened to fall, she shook her head, determination bubbling up inside her.

Someday, they’ll see me for who I really am, she thought. Someday, I’ll write my own story.