Cinderella and the Billionaire

Ella Carter knew exactly how her evening would end.

With sore feet, a growling stomach, and the sharp sting of humiliation.

She adjusted the tray in her hands, ignoring the ache in her wrists from carrying champagne flutes for hours. The air inside the Sterling Grand Ballroom was thick with the scent of wealth—expensive perfume, aged whiskey, and the arrogance of the elite. Men in tailored tuxedos and women dripping in diamonds filled the grand hall, toasting to their success while servants like her flitted between them, unnoticed and unimportant.

Except when they needed something.

Ella clenched her jaw as a manicured hand shot out, grabbing a glass from her tray with barely a glance her way. She had stopped expecting gratitude a long time ago. In this world, she wasn’t Ella Carter, the daughter of a once-respected businessman. She was just a server. A nameless, faceless shadow in a society that had discarded her the moment her father died.

Her fingers curled tighter around the tray, knuckles white.

Vivian Carter had stolen everything from her.

Her father’s company. Her inheritance. Her life.

The same woman who used to call her “sweet girl” had transformed overnight into the wicked stepmother straight out of a fairy tale. Except this wasn’t a fairy tale—it was a nightmare, one Ella had been living in for five long years.

“Ella!” a sharp voice snapped.

She turned to see Brianna, her eldest stepsister, standing near the grand staircase, dressed in a blood-red gown that clung to her like a second skin. Her blonde curls were styled to perfection, her lips painted in a deep shade of ruby that matched her diamond necklace. She looked exactly as she always did—beautiful, entitled, and completely unbearable.

“You’re supposed to be serving, not standing around gawking.” Brianna’s eyes narrowed. “Or are you planning to spill something on a guest again? Because if you embarrass us tonight, I swear—”

“I won’t,” Ella interrupted, keeping her voice neutral.

She had learned a long time ago that arguing was pointless.

Brianna huffed, flipping her hair. “Good. Now, go refill the champagne. And stay out of the important guests’ way.”

As if she had any choice.

Ella turned, walking briskly toward the bar. Every step she took, she could feel it—the weight of being beneath them. The way people looked through her, as if she didn’t exist.

She had spent years surviving in silence, biting her tongue, playing the role of the obedient stepdaughter, hoping that one day she’d find a way out. But hope was a cruel thing. It dangled promises in front of you, only to yank them away.

Tonight was no different.

She reached the bar, setting her tray down with a quiet sigh.

“Rough night?”

Ella stiffened at the voice.

She turned her head slightly, her eyes landing on Liam Carter, a man she had come to half tolerate, half despise.

Liam was everything a perfect assistant should be—sharp-witted, effortlessly composed, and disgustingly charming. He was also Alexander King’s right-hand man, which meant he had more power in his little finger than most men in this room combined.

And, unfortunately, he knew it.

Ella lifted a brow. “Why do you care?”

Liam smirked, swirling his whiskey. “I don’t.” He leaned against the bar, studying her. “But you look like you’re about two seconds away from breaking that champagne bottle over someone’s head, and I’d rather not have to explain that mess to my boss.”

She rolled her eyes, ignoring him as she picked up the next tray of drinks.

“Ah, there she is.” Liam took a slow sip of his drink. “The ever-charming Ella Carter.”

“Not Carter,” she corrected automatically.

Vivian had made sure of that.

She wasn’t allowed to use her father’s last name anymore. Not when the company that should have belonged to her now bore her stepmother’s signature instead.

Liam’s gaze flickered with something unreadable.

Then, he smirked again. “If you say so.”

Ella turned away, her fingers tightening around the tray as she made her way back into the sea of glittering elites.

She didn’t have time for distractions.

Not from Liam.

And certainly not from the man standing at the center of the ballroom, commanding the attention of everyone in the room.

Alexander King.

Ella had seen plenty of powerful men in her lifetime.

But none like him.

Towering at over six feet, with a body sculpted to perfection beneath an expensive black suit, Alexander King exuded the kind of dominance that made people step aside before he even had to speak. His storm-gray eyes were as piercing as they were emotionless, his jet-black hair perfectly styled, not a single strand out of place.

He was ruthless.

Calculating.

And dangerously cold.

But tonight, for the first time, there was something else in his gaze.

Something almost… irritated.

“Where the hell is Victoria?” he muttered under his breath, his voice a sharp blade against the hum of conversation.

Ella didn’t mean to listen.

But it was impossible not to.

Especially when Victoria Sterling—the woman who had once been engaged to Alexander King—was supposed to be on his arm tonight.

And yet, she was nowhere to be found.

Liam strolled up beside him, glass in hand. “She’s running late.”

Alexander’s jaw ticked. “Unacceptable.”

“You know Victoria,” Liam said lazily. “She enjoys making an entrance.”

Alexander didn’t respond, but the sharp clench of his fingers around his glass said enough.

Ella should have looked away.

Should have minded her own business.

But as Alexander’s gaze flickered toward her—just for a second—she felt something shift.

A flicker of recognition.

A spark of interest.

And then—disdain.

Her heart thudded.

Of course.

To a man like Alexander King, she was nothing more than a lowly server, an insignificant detail in his perfect, controlled world.

She dropped her gaze, forcing herself to keep moving.

It didn’t matter.

None of this mattered.

She just had to make it through the night.

Then, in a few hours, she’d go back to her dingy little room in the basement of her stepmother’s house, crawl into bed, and pretend—just for a moment—that her life belonged to her again.

But fate had other plans.

Because just as she turned, just as she stepped forward—

—someone shoved her from behind.

Her balance vanished.

The tray in her hands tilted dangerously.

And before she could stop it—

Champagne went flying.

Directly onto Alexander King’s perfectly tailored suit.

A collective gasp rippled through the ballroom.

Ella froze.

Oh, no.

Oh, no no no.

The world around her blurred. The walls seemed to close in.

And then—

Alexander King turned.

And pinned her in place with a stare so cold, she thought she might actually shatter into a million pieces.

Her breath hitched.

Silence fell between them.

The music. The whispers. The laughter.

It all ceased to exist.

For the first time in years, Ella Carter felt utterly and completely powerless.

And as Alexander slowly took a step closer, his voice dropping into a lethal whisper—

She knew, without a doubt—

Her life was about to change.

Forever.

The world had stopped spinning.

Ella could feel the weight of a hundred eyes burning into her, the hush of scandalous whispers spreading like wildfire through the ballroom.

Alexander King stood before her, his perfectly tailored black suit ruined, the golden champagne dripping down his broad chest like liquid sin.

His storm-gray eyes locked onto hers, unreadable—cold, assessing, and dangerously calm.

A normal man might have reacted with anger. Might have barked out a sharp curse, reached for a napkin, or demanded an apology.

But Alexander King was not a normal man.

He was a king in a kingdom of power.

And right now, she was a peasant who had just made a fatal mistake.

The seconds stretched, suffocating.

Someone—probably Brianna—let out a horrified gasp from across the room.

“Oh, my God,” she breathed dramatically. “She—she just—Ella, what have you done?!”

Ella knew exactly what she had done.

She had just ruined