Chapter Twenty – A Hidden Ally

The days following the anonymous exchange with the private investigator were tense. Cinderella went about her routine as normally as possible—attending classes, spending hours in her work-study job, and occasionally having lunch with Silvester—but her mind was never fully at ease. It was constantly working, always calculating. She was watching, waiting, and thinking of every possible way to move forward without drawing attention to herself.

One afternoon, as she sat in the university's quiet reading room, surrounded by textbooks and documents for a group project, she noticed a familiar face walking toward her.

Dr. Adrian Cole.

A stern but fair lecturer in their Political History course, Dr. Cole was known across campus for his sharp intellect, his strict moral code, and his no-nonsense attitude. He was a professor who didn't suffer fools and didn't tolerate students who tried to get by without giving their best. He was the kind of man who noticed everything—the smallest detail—and tolerated very little. Dr. Cole was not the type of lecturer students usually turned to with personal matters. But something in his eyes today made Cinderella pause.

He placed a thick folder on the desk beside her and spoke in a low, purposeful tone, glancing around to ensure no one was listening.

"Miss Harper, if you have a moment after class today, I believe we need to talk."

Her heart skipped. "About what, sir?"

He gave her a brief, unreadable smile. "You'll understand soon enough."

The rest of the day passed in a blur. The lectures felt distant, and the hours in the library seemed to drag as Cinderella fought to keep her composure. She kept her eyes on her work, but her thoughts wandered back to Dr. Cole and the strange exchange they'd had earlier. What did he mean? Was he a part of the investigation? How did he even know her name? There was no time for questions; she needed to focus.

When the final class ended, Cinderella nervously followed Dr. Cole to his office on the third floor of the administrative building. The air around her felt heavier with each step, the sound of her footsteps echoing through the empty corridor. He didn't speak until the door was shut behind them, and the room was filled with a tense silence.

He motioned for her to sit, then took his place behind his desk. The folder he had placed on her desk earlier was now in front of him. He opened it slowly, as if giving her a moment to brace herself, before turning it toward her.

"I know what's happening," he said quietly. "Not everything. But enough."

Cinderella froze. She couldn't breathe for a moment. Every muscle in her body tensed, and she felt her heart pound in her chest. How could he possibly know anything? Who had told him?

Dr. Cole flipped through the pages of the folder, revealing printed screenshots of Rebecca's emails—the ones Cinderella had hacked. The ones that had detailed bank transactions, threats, and manipulative language aimed at destroying her.

"How... how did you get these?" Cinderella whispered, panic rising in her throat.

"I have friends," he replied simply, his voice calm and steady. "One of them received an anonymous tip. When I saw the name 'Cinderella Harper' in those documents… I recognized you immediately. Your essays. Your silence in class. The bruises you tried to hide once. I've seen girls like you before, Miss Harper. Intelligent. Controlled. Trapped."

Cinderella's throat tightened, and her hands trembled slightly in her lap. "Are you saying you believe me?"

"I do," he said firmly. "But more importantly—I want to help."

Tears pricked at her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away, unwilling to show any sign of weakness. "Why?" Her voice cracked slightly. "Why would you help me? I'm just a student."

He leaned back in his chair, his face serious but not unkind. "Because when I was your age, someone I loved was caught in a situation like yours. She didn't survive it. I swore if I ever had the chance to help someone else escape, I'd take it."

Cinderella sat back, stunned by his words. She had heard stories like that before—people who wanted to help but were too afraid or too powerless to act. But to hear someone actually say it—to hear Dr. Cole admit that he was willing to risk everything for her—it was a relief she hadn't expected.

"You have more power than you think," Dr. Cole continued, his voice low and serious. "Rebecca's emails, the bank transactions, the threats—they're enough to build a case. But you need to be smart. And quiet."

"I've been gathering evidence," Cinderella said, her mind already racing with the next steps. "I have statements. Recordings. Even a mechanic who tampered with my mother's car has agreed to testify. But I can't go to the police yet. If Rebecca finds out too soon, she'll destroy everything."

"That's where I come in," he said, tapping the folder in front of him. "I have contacts—lawyers, journalists, and one investigator who specializes in cases like this. We'll do this together."

Relief washed over her in a wave, and for the first time in months, Cinderella allowed herself to exhale. She wasn't alone anymore.

Dr. Cole handed her a new flash drive. "Upload everything you have here. I'll make copies and keep them in secure places. If anything happens to you, this doesn't end."

Cinderella nodded, swallowing her emotion. She wanted to hug him, to thank him, but she restrained herself. This wasn't over yet. It was just beginning.

"Oh," he added, "and I've arranged for a scholarship extension on your tuition. No more depending on anyone from that house."

Her eyes widened. "You can do that?"

"I already did."

For the first time in years, Cinderella felt something bloom inside her—hope. It was fragile, but it was there, and for the first time, she felt that maybe, just maybe, she could escape this nightmare.

She left his office that day feeling lighter, yet more determined. That night, she uploaded every file, every clip, every statement onto the flash drive and delivered it to Dr. Cole discreetly. In return, he gave her a burner phone and told her to use it only for emergencies.

Over the next few weeks, their operation began to take shape.

Dr. Cole's contacts verified the documents and testimony. Vernon Chase's statement was reviewed, and Cinderella's own personal account—her journal detailing years of abuse and manipulation—was added to the evidence file. Dr. Cole believed this emotional evidence could be crucial in court, showing not just the physical and financial abuse but also the lasting psychological damage.

Meanwhile, Cinderella kept up her mask at home. Penelope was too absorbed in obsessing over her new fashion blog to notice anything unusual. Stephen was too self-absorbed to care—though his aggression had eased slightly since Cinderella began recording every interaction. He no longer shouted at her as often, but the subtle hints of control were still there, lurking in the shadows. It didn't matter; it was all being documented.

Rebecca, however, remained dangerously alert.

One night, as they crossed paths in the hallway, Rebecca paused and looked at her.

"You've been quiet lately," Rebecca said, her voice cold and calculating. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Cinderella with an unnerving intensity. "Too quiet."

Cinderella tilted her head slightly, feigning innocence. "Just focusing on school," she said, keeping her tone casual.

Rebecca stepped closer, her perfume sharp in the air. "Don't mistake my kindness for blindness, Cinderella. I see everything."

Cinderella smiled faintly. "So do I."

She walked away, her pulse racing in her ears. Rebecca's suspicion was growing, and she knew the storm was coming. But for now, she had the upper hand.

The war had begun.

And thanks to her hidden ally, she finally had a fighting chance.