The letter arrived at dawn.
Lin Wei found it slipped under her dorm room door, sealed with a wax crest that shimmered gold. For a moment she thought it must be a mistake. Maids did not receive letters with royal seals. Maids received pay slips, or warnings, or dismissal notes.
Her fingers shook as she broke the seal. The message was brief, written in formal Arabic and translated below in English:
"By decree of the Royal Council, you are hereby summoned to the palace at sunrise. You are to present yourself for reassignment under the direct authority of His Highness Prince Hamdan Al Rashid. Failure to appear will be regarded as dereliction of duty."
Lin Wei's stomach dropped. It wasn't a request. It was an order.
By the time the palace car arrived, the entire dormitory buzzed with whispers. Some envied her, some pitied her, most avoided her eyes entirely. As she climbed into the sleek black SUV, she felt less like an employee and more like a prisoner being escorted to trial.
The palace loomed on the horizon, white stone glowing under the desert sun, domes glittering like crowns. Guards with rifles stood at every gate, their gazes sharp. As the SUV passed through the final checkpoint, Lin Wei's chest tightened.
This is a mistake, she told herself. I don't belong here. I clean rooms, not play games with princes.
But the guards opened the doors and ushered her inside.
The throne hall was vast, ceilings carved with golden patterns, chandeliers heavy with crystals. But it wasn't the King who greeted her—it was Hamdan himself.
He lounged on the steps below the throne as if it were his living room, legs stretched, phone in hand. When he saw her, he smirked.
"Cinderella," he drawled. "You made it."
Lin Wei's fists clenched. "I didn't have a choice."
"Everyone has a choice," he said smoothly, repeating his line from yesterday. "You chose survival. Sensible."
"I chose not to lose my job," she snapped. "Don't twist it."
His grin only widened. "Feisty before breakfast. I approve."
Before she could retort, another voice cut through the hall—warm, low, and distinctly different.
"Hamdan, you terrify the poor girl."
Lin Wei turned. A second prince approached, his posture elegant, his smile softer but no less dangerous. Prince Omar Al Rashid, Hamdan's cousin. Unlike Hamdan's wild arrogance, Omar radiated calm control, the kind of charm that disarmed before it struck.
His gaze lingered on Lin Wei. "You must be Miss Lin. I've heard of you."
Lin Wei blinked. "From who?"
Omar's smile deepened. "From everyone."
Hamdan rolled his eyes. "Don't waste your time, cousin. She's under my protection."
"Protection?" Omar raised an eyebrow. "That's one word for it. Others might call it imprisonment."
Hamdan's jaw tightened. "Careful."
The air crackled between them. Lin Wei glanced between the two princes and felt her pulse quicken. Whatever rivalry simmered here, she had just been thrown into the center of it.
Later that day, she was led to her new quarters inside the palace. Not a maid's dorm, but a small suite with a private bathroom and a window overlooking the gardens. The luxury should have awed her. Instead, it terrified her.
A gilded cage was still a cage.
When she unpacked her few belongings, a knock sounded at the door. She opened it to find Omar standing there, holding a slim leather-bound book.
"I thought you might like this," he said gently. "Sketches of the palace gardens. They were drawn by our ancestors. A piece of history."
She hesitated. "Why are you giving this to me?"
His eyes softened. "Because I don't like seeing people dragged into games they didn't choose."
Her chest tightened. His words felt genuine. But before she could answer, another voice snarled from the hall.
"Cinderella!"
Hamdan stormed toward them, his glare fixed on Omar. "What are you doing here?"
Omar calmly placed the book into Lin Wei's hands. "Being polite."
Hamdan's hand shot out, snatching the book away. "She doesn't need your gifts."
"Maybe she does," Omar countered. "Or are you afraid she might prefer someone with manners?"
The tension thickened until Lin Wei could hardly breathe. Two princes, glaring at each other over her. She wanted to shout that she wasn't a prize to be fought over—but part of her, the part that had scrubbed toilets for scraps of dignity, felt a secret, guilty thrill.
For once, she was seen.
That night, Lin Wei stood at her window, staring at the moonlit gardens. The book Omar had given her—rescued when Hamdan finally threw it on her bed in disgust—lay open on her desk. The sketches were delicate, almost haunting.
She traced one drawing with her finger. A hidden courtyard, marked with strange symbols. Beside it, in faint Arabic, a note: "Beneath the gardens, the shadows breathe."
A chill prickled her skin. What did it mean? Why did Omar want her to see it?
Before she could think further, her door creaked open.
She spun, heart pounding. Hamdan leaned against the frame, watching her.
"You're playing with fire, Cinderella," he said softly. "And fire doesn't forgive."
He stepped inside, eyes glinting with something unreadable.
And then, without warning, he closed the door behind him.
Lin Wei finds herself trapped alone in her palace suite with Hamdan—
while Omar's mysterious book whispers of hidden secrets beneath the palace itself...