The fleeting moments of our semester break have come to an end, signaling the return to the rhythm of my everyday life. Claybourne is calling my name as I plan a visit to see my father, and the anticipation builds even further knowing that my brother will be joining us in December. Excitement bubbles inside me, eager to embrace the upcoming moments.
As I immersed myself in my activities, I suddenly felt a vibration in my bag, an indication of an incoming text message. With the day drawing to a close, it was our final class. I glanced at my phone and read the unexpected message: 'I will pick you up; I need you for an event.' An eyebrow raised, surprised at his audacity to enlist me for yet another errand. It seemed he had grown accustomed to relying on me.
Taking a deep breath, I reassured myself that I could handle it. I would tolerate his demands for now, but the days of being under his control were numbered. 'You don't have to pick me up; I'll make my own way there,' I replied, determined to assert my independence.
The rumors swirling around Logan and me were no secret. It didn't take a genius to figure out who was spreading those false stories—Maribeth and her followers, driven by their own insecurities. Their presence had become a nuisance in my life, fueled by envy towards what I possessed. They were nothing more than a group of narrow-minded girls.
After the class, I embarked on my journey toward the mansion, contemplating the nature of the event taking place. As I entered, the grandeur and elegance hinted at a formal gathering. Navigating through the crowd, my mind raced with thoughts of finding a way to slip through to the back of the hall. The sheer number of high-profile individuals only added to the challenge.
Fortunately, Eda, ever the savior, intercepted my impending trouble. She beckoned me inside the mansion, her words conveying an apology for being overwhelmed with work. "Sir Logan has been searching for you. I'm sorry, my dear, but there's much to attend to. I'll leave you to it," she kindly informed me.
"Thank you, Eda..." I expressed my gratitude as I caught sight of Logan standing by the window. Our eyes met, and he handed me something—a pair of pants, a bow, and a tie. A puzzled expression formed on my face.
"What other tasks shall I undertake while we converse?" I quipped sarcastically, well aware of his habit of piling responsibilities on me. He had a knack for placing me in difficult situations.
"This time, I truly need your assistance. We're severely short-staffed," he earnestly explained.
"I suppose I have no choice. Since I'm already here, I'll accept it, but be warned—my patience wears thin," I conceded, reaching for the uniform.
Once in possession of the uniform, I noticed a captivating woman embracing Logan. Surprise tingled through me, for as far as I knew, he was single. However, it dawned on me that being single and a womanizer were not mutually exclusive for him. Swiftly turning away, I sought refuge in the bathroom to change into the attire.
An involuntary hand rested upon my chest, the weight of the realization that he was with another woman pressing down on me. Perhaps I was tired of clinging to the illusion that I was the only significant person in his life—a realization that portrayed my own foolishness.
Pushing those thoughts aside, I resolved to focus on the task at hand. I made my way to the buffet area, prepared to serve the designated dishes to the esteemed guests. To my surprise, a line of young businessmen formed, their attention fixated on me. It was no exaggeration; the line seemed exclusively dedicated to my presence, even though I was only serving shrimp and beef broccoli.
"Miss, where do you hail from? I had no idea that locals possessed such mesmerizing beauty," a gentleman with a Chinese appearance complimented.
I offered a restrained smile. "The line is quite long," I responded, attempting to redirect their attention.
"I shall await you at my table. I would be honored to have your phone number," he persisted.
A staged cough caught my attention from behind. It was Logan, appearing out of nowhere and leaving his date behind. Perplexed, I wondered why he had come and deserted his companion.
"I shall reassign you to the kitchen. It's not ideal for you to be exposed here," he remarked as if I relished being in this servile position.
Reluctantly, I acquiesced to his command. I had no choice but to follow him to the kitchen, where a mountain of dishes awaited our attention. With only three of us to handle the workload, I couldn't help but draw a parallel to Cinderella.
Fate had dealt me a prince of the most absurd kind—one who brought nothing but pressure and sorrow into my life. As I washed the endless stream of plates, a thought nagged at me. What if our lives reverted to how they were before? Was there still a glimmer of hope for Logan and me? The mere act of pondering such a notion contradicted everything I had previously proclaimed. His personality was nothing short of detestable, unworthy of discussion.
Yet, somewhere deep within, I recognized a glimmer of light. Compared to the two-faced individuals I had encountered in the past, Logan possessed qualities that made me feel secure, cherished, and valued. However, the melancholy truth remained—I could never truly have him.
Once our contract concluded, I resolved to distance myself from him. This one-sided arrangement brought me the most suffering. Everything between us seemed unrequited, a heartache that I alone bore.
Midway through washing, someone unexpectedly grasped my waist. I turned, startled, only to find Logan's grandmother standing there, wearing a puzzled expression.
"Why are you here, my dear? Aren't you my grandson's special friend? What brings you to this menial task? Come, I shall find someone else to handle it," she spoke with a hint of curiosity.
I shook my head emphatically. "No, it's fine. I can manage. Besides, I'm not truly a special friend to your grandson, as I initially thought. Circumstances have led me to this role. I've been serving for six months in exchange for payment," I explained, avoiding the mention of the mishap that caused my guilt.
The old woman chuckled softly at my words. "Is this about the vase?" she asked, as if privy to the incident.
"You know?" I responded as if encountering a ghost.
"Of course, this is my house, my domain, and I'm aware of everything transpiring here. Never underestimate my ability to discern. Besides, I refuse to believe that you hold no significance to my grandson. If you weren't special, he would not have forgiven you even if you begged. That vase held great value—it was the second piece in his antique collection. You managed to break down the walls around his hardened heart."
Silent contemplation consumed me as I struggled to comprehend her words. Me? Special? No matter how I pondered the notion, I couldn't fathom how I became significant. Was I merely in denial?
Yet, here I stood, witnessing Logan dating another woman. I felt torn, caught between conflicting truths and uncertain of which to embrace.
"Come, my dear. It doesn't befit a lady of your beauty to remain in the kitchen washing dishes. I won't allow it, especially considering you may become my future daughter-in-law. Come," she insisted, her grip unyielding.
Reluctantly, I followed her into one of the most opulent rooms within the mansion. Clothes and various belongings adorned the space, a testament to its lavishness.
"This is Blythe, my assistant. She will attend to your needs. Unleash your beauty and make him rue the day he consigned you to that kitchen. My grandson has a unique way of hiding you from others," she explained, her words laced with hidden meaning.
And so, I succumbed to the circumstances, yearning to escape my current reality. As Blythe skillfully transformed me, I couldn't help but feel like Cinderella. The blue gown enveloped me, lending an air of regality akin to a beauty pageant contestant. Not that it was necessarily a bad thing, but it risked attracting an excessive amount of attention, considering I would eventually have to step out.
"Let us venture forth, my dear. Showcase the beauty my stubborn grandson wishes to conceal," she whispered, her voice laced with mischief.
"Pardon me?" I questioned, bewildered.
"He must learn his lesson. If I were in your shoes, I would have slapped him. And to think, he has the audacity to bring another girl here—take matters into your own hands."
The old woman's words resonated with me. It was time to let him taste his own medicine.