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,