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I rise around noon. The absolute silence in the house disturbs me slightly, but I leave my room anyway. I quickly inspect the house to find it completely empty. I do however find that my step-family has left me all the dishes on the dining room table.

"Wonderful," I mutter as I pile them up. It appears they managed to figure out how to gather eggs and fry them.

I tote the dirty dishes into the kitchen only to have my legs fly out from underneath me. Dishes soar through the air to crash beside me and shatter. I carefully stand, clutching the counter. I bend over and touch the floor. Oil. There's oil all over the floor. I look around to find the source. The oil flask is tipped over by the stove.

"Those despicable monsters!" I growl as I remove my apron. I use it to sop up the oil between me and the broom. I sweep up the glass shards on the floor and then set to work on cleaning the mess. By the time the kitchen is respectable, my dress is soaked with oil.

I can't continue my chores in this dress. I'll only spread the grease around the house. As I stand still debating what options I have, an idea occurs to me. My lips curve upward of their own free will. Oh how evil. I strip off my dress in the kitchen and dash upstairs in my underclothes.

I burst into my younger stepsister's room. I dance a little and rush to her wardrobe. Throwing open the doors, I fling dresses to the floor.

There it is. Her dress for the ball. My step-family had just received them yesterday. I reverently pull out the scarlet gown. I kick aside the discarded dresses at my feet and pull the satin gown over my head. I settle the expensive fabric and hesitantly step over to the mirror. I twirl a little as I examine my reflection.

It wasn't the best color for me but it still looks ravishing. I am a noblewoman showing off her assets. The low neckline shows a little bit of cleavage, a bit of intrigue. Even with my bruises I'm a sight to behold.

I chuckle slightly and skip out of the room. I proceed to clean the fireplaces in the crimson gown, smearing soot into the fine fabric, ruining it. When I am satisfied with this one, I run back upstairs and ransack my other stepsister's room.

Her dress is made of green silk, the color of forests. She's larger than I am and the garment hangs on me. I ignore this and return to my work, this time cleaning the floors and splashing dirty, soapy water all over the dress.

I save my stepmother's dress until last. Hers is a beautiful grey, the color of storm clouds. The brocade is stiff.

With relish, I race to the stable and muck out the stalls in one of the finest dresses ever made. When I finish, I return to the house. I dress in my younger stepsister's only blue dress. I hang all the dresses back up, save the ballgowns. Those I hang on the outside of the front door in all their soiled glory.

I toss my hair back, proud of my work. I wash my face clean and pull back some of my hair. I debate what to do next when I hear horses in the drive. I race up the stairs to a window and watch the unfolding scene with uncontainable delight.

My step-family steps out of the cab and stop in horror as they see the fruits of my labor. The screams reach me even through the glass, and I grin.

I race downstairs as my stepsisters rush forward.

"CINDERELLA!" my stepmother screeches my name at the top of her lungs.

I step calmly out of the door. "Yes?" I ask. "You called for me?"

"What- what- is this!?" she demands, face red. She stabs a trembling figure at the dresses now in the dirt.

"I believe it is your ruined ballgowns for the prince's ball," I reply evenly.

"This is your doing!" Pearl sobs.

"Yes. I refuse to slave away for you selfish pigs. I am kicking you out of this house. I could care less where you go or what happens to you. You are to leave immediately," I proclaim, raising my chin. "I am of noble blood and you will treat me as such."

"You can hardly claim that, you peasant," my stepmother spits.

"My father was high born despite his marriage to my mother," I answer. "Leave now or I will stab you through."

"With what?" Jemma scoffs.

I reach behind the door for the sword in the family crest. I pull it free and point it at the three women before me.

"Leave. Now." I growl.

They never take their eyes from the blade as they gather their skirts and flee.