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“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.

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