"Some crowns are made of gold, others of invisible chains."_unknown
His name was on every tongue.
He wasn't just the heir to a vast fortune — he was the most sought-after bachelor in the city, maybe even the country. Young, wildly successful, and devastatingly handsome, Levi Gazdanov was everything fairy tales whispered about. His face, though rarely seen, graced the covers of magazines. Every photograph of him was a mystery in itself — Black hair, tailored suits, a cold expression and the most beautiful yet dangerous brown lazy eyes that made women want to melt beneath it. But he was known not just for his looks or money, but for his silence. He spoke little in public, smiled even less, and yet commanded attention in every room he entered.
So when word spread that Levi Gazdanov was hosting an exclusive event to find a bride — not among socialites, but from everyday families, small businesses, and humble origins — the city spun into a frenzy.
And in a modest two-story house on the outskirts of the city, the news reached the ears of Archie and Linda Johnson like the clanging of wedding bells dipped in gold.
They had two daughters — beautiful girls with soft features, thick curvy bodies and carefully trained smiles. But they also had Maeve. The one who didn't quite belong.
When the invitation arrived, sealed with gold and bearing the Gazdanov estate crest, Linda squealed.
"Archie! We've been chosen — look at this! A formal invite to the selection gala!"
Archie adjusted his glasses, his hands trembling slightly as he read the letter.
"This... This is it, Linda. This is the opportunity we've been waiting for."
Linda was already halfway up the stairs, calling for her daughters. "Kelly! Katie! Get down here! We need fittings, new shoes, hairstyles—everything must be perfect!"
The house exploded into chaos. Fabrics were pulled from trunks, jewelry boxes unlocked, hair appointments made. Katie and Kelly twirled in the hallway, squealing in excitement.
And then, from the kitchen doorway, a petite figure stood watching.
Quiet, forgotten — or rather, purposely ignored — she stood in her plain beige dress with sleeves too short and shoes two sizes too small. Her now ash-grey with hints of lavender, originally blonde hair was pulled back in a simple low braid, her slim face holding no excitement, only the same stillness that had followed her since she was seven.
"She'll have to come," Linda muttered reluctantly when she noticed her. "It would look bad if we left her behind. People know she lives here."
"We'll dress her in something unnoticeable," Archie agreed. "Make sure she doesn't stand out."
As if she ever did.
---
The next few days were alive with activity. New dresses were tailored for Kelly and Katie— rich silk in soft pastels, hairpieces glittering with tiny gemstones. Linda paraded her daughters through the house as though she already saw them standing beside Levi Gazdanov in wedding gowns.
Maeve was handed a dull pale blue dress, one that hadn't been worn in years. It clung awkwardly to her small frame, the hem uneven and the sleeves frayed.
The house buzzed with laughter and chatter. But in the middle of it all, Maeve felt nothing but emptiness. No hope. No dreams. Just silence.
---
On the night of the event, they rode in Archie's car, the cousins talking rapidly in the backseat while Linda reapplied her lipstick in the front.
Maeve sat by the window, her chin resting against the cool glass. The city lights blurred as they drove past them, and above the buildings, she stared up at the stars — the only things that ever felt constant.
---
She had been seven.
That evening had started with laughter. Her parents — her real parents — had been preparing to attend a late business meeting. She had played with her dolls near the living room couch, while her mother placed a soft kiss on her forehead and promised, "We won't be long, starshine."
Maeve remembered how her father ruffled her hair. "Be good. We'll be home before bedtime."
They left together, dressed smartly, full of life. Maeve watched them through the window as the car disappeared down the street.
That was the last time she saw them.
---
The news came not long after. She had fallen asleep in her nanny's lap, a storybook still open beside her. She woke to the sound of quiet sobs. The nanny's face was pale, mascara smudged under her eyes.
"Maeve..." the woman whispered, voice shaking.
Maeve blinked in confusion. "Where's Mama?"
The nanny couldn't speak. She only knelt and pulled Maeve into her arms, rocking her gently as if that would soften the words.
"They're... they're not coming home."
The cause was labeled as brake failure. An unfortunate accident. Nothing more.
But for Maeve, it wasn't just a loss. It was the beginning of the unraveling of everything that had ever made her feel safe.
---
After the funeral, she had been sent to live with Uncle Archie and Aunt Linda, her father's older brother. They didn't speak to her much. Didn't hug her. Linda avoided touching her as if grief might spread through contact.
At first, she had waited every day for her parents to return. Sat by the window. Refused to speak. Refused to eat.
Eventually, the waiting stopped. But the silence stayed.
Soon, the slavery began.
---
"You're not a guest here," Aunt Linda had told her once, pressing a mop into her small hands. "You need to start pulling your weight. We took you in out of charity, Maeve. Don't act like you're special."
She was eight when she started washing dishes. Nine when she cleaned the bathrooms. Ten when she stopped crying at night.
Her cousins, Kelly and Katie, grew up calling her "the shadow girl."
She never corrected them.
---
Now, in the car heading towards the Gazdanov estate, Maeve sat with her hands in her lap, back straight, eyes cast downward. The stars still blinked at her from above.
They were the only ones who'd never turned away.
---