Royal House Cleaning Challenge
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The prince’s ball begins at dusk, but Chloe remains trapped under her stepmother’s orders—every floor swept, every surface polished, every speck of dust banished. No mercy, no shortcuts. The woman’s icy ultimatum lingers: *Finish, or forget the palace.* Roll up your sleeves. Scrub the stubborn stains from the marble, untangle cobwebs clinging to vaulted ceilings, wrestle grime from forgotten corners. Time bleeds away; the clock tower’s chime echoes closer. One final task: that moth-eaten wardrobe in the attic. Push past faded silks to find it—a gown shimmering like starlight trapped in twilight. Lace her into the fabric, tighten ribbons, fasten pearls. A mirror flickers. For a heartbeat, she’s unrecognizable: not the girl ash-deep in chores, but someone forged from midnight and resolve. Carriages clatter outside. Go. The ball awaits—and so does he.
