Cinderella's Revenge

Jakarta had surrendered to the night by 7:00 PM. The streetlights and hotel beacons blazed with artificial gold. Inside a prestigious five-star hotel, the atmosphere was reaching its peak. The opulent ballroom was packed with elite guests; music hummed through the air, and hushed conversations filled every corner as the high society paraded in their finest attire.

​Elaina stood before the hotel entrance, her eyes tracking the couples as they moved toward the lobby. Husbands, wives, and families-all wearing smiles that felt like a personal insult. A bitter cocktail of envy, rage, and jealousy brewed in her chest.

​Before stepping out of the taxi, she massaged her temples. She had been nursing a bottle of Vodka Martini since the ride began. It was her anchor, her liquid courage. She didn't care for the judgment of others; the alcohol was her only way to survive the night. A few shots had made her steps heavy and unsteady, but her mind remained dangerously sharp.

​She knew this wasn't her. She wasn't the type to inflict pain; she had been raised to be graceful and kind. But grace had crumbled the moment she was betrayed. Fidell-the man who had sworn his life to her-was now standing at the altar with someone else. He had discarded her just two days ago, and now, she was here to witness the "happily ever after" he had stolen from her.

​She didn't come to congratulate him. She came for blood.

​"Miss, we've been sitting here for half an hour," the driver said, glancing at her through the rearview mirror with a mix of confusion and pity.

​The ride had been a tomb of silence. Elaina had sat there, gloom-ridden, hair slightly frayed, clutching her bottle like a lifeline. When the taxi stopped, she didn't move. She just stared at the lobby with hollow eyes. Finally, she swallowed hard, checked the meter, and let out a shaky breath. The fare was steep, but money was the last thing on her mind.

​She pulled some cash from her small black clutch and handed it over without a word. Before stepping out, she took one last, long swig from the bottle.

​Her first step onto the pavement was wobbly. The alcohol had compromised her balance, but her spite kept her upright. She marched toward the lobby, her long yellow gown trailing behind her. The hem was already stained with the grime of the street, but she didn't care. One hand clutched her dress, the other gripped her bottle.

​Crossing the driveway, she nearly collided with a car. The driver slammed on the brakes just in time. Elaina stumbled but regained her footing, glaring forward as she hurried toward the entrance. Her tolerance wasn't high, but her adrenaline was through the roof.

​Inside the car, the driver stared at her, stunned. Who is this girl? he wondered. If his reflexes hadn't been sharp, the night would have ended in tragedy.

​"What is she in such a rush for?" the man muttered, adjusting his frameless glasses. He watched her disappearing silhouette before pulling into the valet.

​Elaina stormed into the lobby and shoved her way into a crowded elevator. She ignored the whispers and the scent of expensive perfume around her. Her brain was a battlefield of pain and the desperate need to stay conscious long enough for her revenge.

​The doors opened. She maneuvered through the crowd and reached the ballroom. Using a borrowed invitation from a friend, she slipped inside effortlessly. Then, she froze.

​There they were.

​On a grand, floral-adorned stage, the newlyweds were receiving blessings. An orchestra played softly in the distance. She recognized them all: the groom, his parents-her almost-family.

​Her chest tightened. She choked back a sob, tossed her empty bottle into a nearby bin, and wiped her eyes. Grabbing a glossy catering brochure from a buffet table, she held it over her head to mask her face and joined the queue of guests.

​With every step forward, her heart hammered against her ribs. Five people left. Four. The MC was interviewing the couple.

​"So, to our happy groom," the MC's voice boomed. "Tell us, how long have you two been together? What made you realize she was The One?"

​Fidell took the microphone, beaming at his bride in her pristine white lace. "We've been together for about six months. We just clicked instantly. I proposed last month because I knew I couldn't live without her."

​Elaina's fists clenched until her knuckles turned white.

​"A beautiful love story!" the MC cheered. "Was it love at first sight?"

​"Absolutely," Fidell replied smoothly. "Ivanka is the only woman for me. I've never loved anyone the way I love her."

​"LIAR!"

​The scream tore through the romantic melody. Elaina broke formation, throwing her borrowed invitation aside and pointing a trembling finger at the stage.

​"Fidell, you son of a bitch! How dare you lie!"

​The ballroom fell into a deathly silence. Fidell's face drained of color. His bride looked on, confused. "Who is this, honey?"

​"Nobody," Fidell hissed, panic flaring in his eyes. "She's nobody."

​Elaina surged forward. Security tried to intercept, but she was a woman possessed. The vodka had numbed her shame, leaving only the raw, burning heat of her heartbreak.

​"Keep denying it! We were together for three years! Your parents know me!" she screamed, gesturing to the horrified elders beside him. "You dumped me two days ago over a phone call, and now you're married? Your name means 'Loyalty,' Fidell, but you're nothing but a traitor! A bastard!"

​"Fidell!" his father barked, his face turning puce.

​"She's crazy!" Fidell shouted to the guards. "We broke up ages ago! Get her out of here!"

​"Ages ago? It was forty-eight hours, you cheating coward!" Elaina reached down, ripped off one of her shoes, and hurled it at his head. It missed, thudding onto the expensive carpet right next to the bride.

​The guests crowded in, phones coming out to record the scandal. Elaina didn't care. She wanted the world to see the rot beneath his expensive suit.

​Fidell abandoned his bride and marched down the steps, his face contorted with rage. He signaled the guards, who grabbed Elaina's arms, pinning them behind her back. He stood inches from her face, his voice a low, lethal hiss.

​"How dare you embarrass me like this."

​Elaina lifted her chin, a manic, watery laugh escaping her lips. "I just wanted your wife to know what kind of man she's taking home. Do you recognize this dress, Fidell? It's the same one I wore when you proposed to me last year. The day we got engaged. You recognize it now, you bastard?"

​"Oh," Fidell sneered, smoothing his lapel and looking at her with cold, bored eyes. "You're just bitter because I chose her over you?"

​Elaina thrashed against the guards, but their grip was iron.

​"Bitter? It's not the breakup that hurts, it's the double life! You were dating both of us at the same time! You're pathetic!"

​Fidell leaned in closer, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "Maybe you should look in the mirror and ask yourself why I chose Ivanka. What kind of man would ever actually marry a woman like you?"

​His words were like salt rubbed into a fresh wound. But Fidell had made a mistake. He thought he had broken her. He didn't realize that Elaina wouldn't stop until she had burned his perfect world to the ground.