Anastasia and Drizella, too, started to change. As their mother fell deeper into madness and despair, they started to regret how they had treated Cinderella. They saw the story differently, through the eyes of young women rather than children. They would sit up in their rooms at night talking about their childhood and putting all the pieces together. They realized Cinderella wasn’t being horrible to their mother as they thought in those early days; she, too, was just being controlled by her cruel and horrible father. But the most startling revelation they made in those late-night conversations was something they could never share with their mother. Besides, they had long ago stopped trying to make their mother see Cinderella’s point of view. It only sent her into a fit of rage. So they kept this secret close to their hearts, and they did what their mother told them to do. They wore the white wedding gowns and listened to her ravings. It wasn’t until they had grown so weary of living like wraiths in a haunted château that they finally decided to stand up for themselves. Their mother’s future might be lost, but they could still fight for theirs.

It was a day like most others. It started with Lady Tremaine sitting in the dingy front parlor of her château. The room was dark, but shards of light pierced the moth-eaten curtains, making the dust and cobwebs in the room sparkle.

Their mother was ranting, and Anastasia and Drizella were doing their best to avoid her. They were in their rooms but could hear their mother’s voice echoing up the stairway.

“I’ve ruined everything. I’ve ruined my life and the lives of my daughters, all for a man who only had enough love in his heart for his dead wife and his daughter.”

Lady Tremaine was talking to a plump black-and-white cat who looked at her lazily as she spoke.

“We have been trapped in this house since that horrible Cinderella was spirited off by the prince and made his bride! My daughters and I should be in that castle, not that simpering fool of a girl!”

The cat blinked and continued to listen to his lady.

“She was an insane girl, talking to mice, dressing them in handmade clothing. It was disgusting! I wonder, how does the king like his queen filling the castle with grubby little mice?”

“Mother, who are you talking to?” It was Drizella. She was standing in the shadows, avoiding the blinding shards of light coming in through the moth holes of the curtains.