My Prince and I were finally together. The happily ever after everyone wanted. Just as we were arriving at our new home, he looked over at me.

“I should have told you this before,” he said.

“Told me what?” I looked back at him.

Our car door was one opened by a little girl standing no taller than four feet. She looked to be the same age I was when I lost my mother. Her hair glowed as yellow as the sun. Her eyes were the same dark green as evergreen trees. The smile on her small face lit up the space brighter than a new LED light bulb.

“Daddy! Daddy!” she screamed as she jumped onto his lap.

“Claire!” A maid called, running after the small child. “I’m sorry, sir. She ran out so fast when she heard your car pull up. I did not have time to stop her.”

“Don’t worry Rose, I know just how fast this one runs,” he said looking down at little Claire, who was still sitting on his lap. “Not even a marathon runner stands a chance against my girl.” The three of them chuckled. I sat there still processing the events.

“This is your niece?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“My daughter,” he smiled, looking for my approval.

“Claire,” he said looking at me, “This is your stepmother, Ella.” I felt vomit crawl up my throat as my Prince addressed me as ‘stepmother’. The only stepmother I knew of was my own. She was a human with a heart of pure darkness, leaving her incapable of love, or at least love towards me. She took my father’s love from me too. It was years of merciless torture. For a split second, I felt my heart darken as I looked at this little girl, clinging on to my Prince. The little girl looked me up and down, then looked back at my Prince. She was just as confused as I was. As I was thinking, who is this strange little girl, she was thinking who is this strange tall lady.

“Where is her mother?” I asked, hoping this little girl was not to suffer the same fate I did. Memories of my mother lead through my darkest years. I held on to my mother’s dying words like they were oxygen, an essential of life.

“That does not matter. As far as we know, she’s dead to us,” he said. Rose tilted her head down as a small sliver of blonde hair fell past her green eyes.

“I see,” I said.

Rose picked Claire up off my Prince’s lap and walked back into the house with the screaming child. The house was a Victorian mansion, with white brick and dark grey accents. Vines of ivy crawled up the walls. A water fountain in the centre of the cobblestone driveway. A garden with one of every plant on Earth stretched across the grounds, from the driveway to the front gate, surrounding the house. Two white doves sat upon a hazel tree overlooking the house. This place seemed to have stepped out of a fairytale. Walking through the doors, I was greeted by the arches that stretched to the sky, windows as tall as a wall that filled the room with rays of sunlight, and chandeliers from above covering any spaces missed. An army of household staff flocked around me to meet the new lady of the house. I could hear two of the maids behind me chatting as they looked me up and down.

“She’s a commoner,” one of them whispered to the other.

“Clearly the Prince has a type,” the other one whispered back. I whipped my head over toward them. We made eye contact, then they put their heads down and walked away.

I was wandering around my new home, feeling every crack and crevice in the wall as I glided my hand over it. I was looking up and down at the walls as a loud pitter-patter of little feet came crashing around the corner and into my legs. Little Claire fell onto her bottom right before my feet. Rose was running right behind her. She turned the corner after Claire and gasped.

“I am so sorry ma’am,” she said, pulling little Claire to her feet. “It is bath time for the princess.”

I nodded my head as Rose walked down the hall with little Claire. Claire turned her head to glance back. She waved her little hand as she continued walking further down the hallway.

“I was considering letting Rose go,” my Prince said as he walked up behind me, placing a hand on the small of my back.

“What? Why?” I looked over at him, now standing beside me.

“She cannot keep Claire under control,” he huffed. “Perhaps that can be your job now, after all, you are going to need to know how to take care of our children.”

“I know how to run a house, thank you very much,” I stepped away from him.

“I did not mean to insult you, Ella,” he stepped toward me. “I apologize, please forgive me?”

“You don’t need to fire Rose,” I looked down.

“It is not your call, my love,” he lifted my chin. “We need someone who will look after Claire and raise her right.”

“I see,” I huffed as I walked away down the hallway.

I had only been in this new home for a few hours, and it was already not much better than my last. The appearance of this home seemed perfect. I was not allowed to clean, or even cook. There was house staff that did everything I used to fill my time with. I found myself spending days wandering around the hallways and grounds aimlessly.

On a walk through the garden, I heard Rose and Claire with my Prince.

“You keep letting her run loose around the grounds. This is the third time this week you have lost my daughter,” he was shouting. They did not see me. I hid behind a tall bush, peering through the leaves.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she cried.

“Pack your things,” he said.

“Claire needs me, please sir, let me stay,” she was begging on her knees.

“She does not. You may need her, but she does not need you,” He ripped the little princess from her arms. Rose screamed as if she had been stabbed. “Ella will look after her. Leave now, before I have you removed.” Rose ran out of the garden sobbing as Claire’s screams filled the air.

I slid down onto the grass covering my mouth in shock. The cold wet grass had soaked through blue jeans. I heard mumblings of my Prince calming Claire. She stopped screaming as he picked her flowers, making her flower crown. She started giggling.

“You wear it, daddy!” she said.

He placed it on his head and twirled around. “How do I look?”

“Like a princess!” Claire giggled.

“A princess, hey?” he laughed. “I will take that as a compliment.” He held her hand as the two of them pranced through the garden.

My Prince playing gently in the garden was the man I married. His sweetness while we were dancing at the banquet was what I fell in love with. But the man, the man who raised his voice like a commanding army officer, that man made me tremble. It seems so unlike him. He was sweet. But yet again I did not know him very well. We only spent three nights dancing together before getting married. I didn’t even know about his daughter. His sweet, beautiful, daughter. I guess she is my daughter now too. My Prince is so gentle with her. He was so gentle with me. I never thought he could have a dark side. A side that had him yelling at maids in the garden. I wandered back to the never-ending hallways of the house, replaying the sound of my Prince yelling at Rose.

Weeks have passed since my Prince mercilessly fired Rose. Little Claire moved at a pace no faster than a crawl. There was no more pitter patter of little feet. There was nothing left to run for. An eerie feeling took over the entire house. The joyful, young, and fearless parts of Claire left with Rose. Claire had become a shell of who she once was.

When my mother died, my stepmother handed me a broom and a mop. I never took the time to process the loss, that she was never coming back. I was left with this wicked creation of a stepmother. I am a stepmother now too, but I am not wicked. I have human emotions, especially after being thrown into this situation. As much as I did not want to be a stepmother and part of me resented this girl for existing, she had nobody else, at least not in this house. She has nobody, just as I had nobody.

“The child has not stopped crying,” my Prince was yet again shouting at another maid. “Fix it, before I send you out as well.”

“Right away, sir,” the frightened maid sprinted over to the corner that Claire has been sitting in for the past few weeks.

My Prince walked across the room and joined me at the dining table.

“Everyone in this house is incompetent,” He huffed. I just simply nodded, trying to avoid an uprising. My Prince had grown increasingly agitated over the past few weeks, taking down four more maids and three cooks in his reign of terror. Little Claire stayed in that corner by the window, only moving to wipe tears off her face, and pushing away trays of food maids would bring over.

After supper, I helped the maids bring the dishes into the kitchen. With the shortage in staff, I’ve been helping complete some of the daily duties. It grew unbearable to see Claire hardly functioning. She would not say a word any of the maids would walk over to her. She would even disregard her father. I felt pulled over to her side. Before I could recognize what I was doing, I sat down beside little Claire.

“I lost my mother, too,” I said, brushing the strand of loose hair behind her ear. She looked over at me. That was the most she had moved in weeks. Another tear fell from her eye. She opened her mouth to speak but not a single sound slipped out. I offered her my hand; she hesitantly took it. I wiped away her tears with a gentle sweep of my thumb.

“I hate daddy. I hate this house,” she said with a rainfall of tears dripping silently from her eyes. “I miss Rose.”

“Oh, sweet child,” I pulled her into my arms.

“Daddy scares me,” she said looking up at me.

“He scares me too,” I said, “But we do not have to stay here.” Claire looked at me as if she was staring into my soul.

“I want to find Rose,” she said. I pulled little Claire to her feet just as I had seen Rose do several times before. We scurried around the hallways, being careful not to make a sound. I packed a small bag for each Claire and I, holding only the essentials. The little girl held onto my hand the entire time. We ran towards the front gate together. I stopped and crouched down to look into her eyes.

“Be good and have courage,” I said, placing my hand on the side of her cheek, “Then good things will come to us.”

We each picked a rose from the garden for good luck on our journey. Afterwards, we ran through the front gate, not turning our heads back. The two white doves that sat perched on the hazel tree flew behind us, one landing on each of Claire’s shoulders.

Morgan’s retelling of The Grimm Brothers’ Cinderella questions the “Happily Ever After” that typically concludes fairy tale stories.