The Prison Of Elegance

The Genesis

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Aurora’s POV

The bar was loud enough to drown out my thoughts, which was exactly why I liked working Friday nights. Laughter echoed off the worn brick walls, glasses clinked together like delicate wind chimes, and the hum of drunken confessions rolled in waves through the smoky air. It was chaotic, but familiar. Normal. Safe.

I wore my usual expression—pleasant but unreadable—as I moved between tables, clearing glasses and taking orders. The bar was packed, and the buzz of bodies and music was like white noise to my cluttered mind.

And then... the door swung open.

Immediately, the atmosphere changed. As if someone had pressed pause on the entire scene. The kind of silence that doesn’t belong in a place like Vickers Bar settled over the crowd, followed by a slow, hushed wave of whispers.

Two men stepped inside.

Their tailored suits gleamed under the bar’s dim lights, custom-fitted to perfection, with that unmistakable look of money—old money. The kind that could silence rooms and end careers with a single phone call. They didn’t belong here. Not in a place with sticky counters and beer-stained floors. And yet, here they were, moving as if they owned the place. Maybe they did.

Vans and Fletcher.

Even before their names reached my ears, I knew who they were. You didn’t have to work in the financial world to recognize those faces. CEOs. Billionaires. Powerhouses. The type of men who didn’t just walk into a room—they commandeered it. Their very presence turned the air thick, the way a thunderstorm does right before it strikes.

And of course, I was the only waitress not busy with a customer.

Swallowing my unease, I took a breath and walked over to their table. With each step, my heart pounded a little louder. I forced a smile onto my face, professional but polite. "Good evening, sirs. Welcome to Vickers Bar. What can I get for you?" My voice held a slight tremor, and I prayed they didn’t notice.

Mr. Vans looked up slowly, his dark eyes locking onto mine—and the air shifted again.

For a moment, it felt like time stopped.

There was something about the way he stared at me. Like he was peeling back layers I didn’t even know I had. It wasn’t just recognition in his gaze; it was something deeper. Something... haunting. As if he saw a ghost. Or maybe I was the ghost.

My stomach knotted.

His silence stretched too long, and I felt like I was drowning in the intensity of his stare. Then, finally, in a voice like gravel and smoke, he said, “Two bottles of Hennessy.”

I nodded quickly, scribbling on my notepad. But as I turned to walk away, I felt another pair of eyes on me—Mr. Fletcher’s.

His gaze was different. Colder. Calculating. Like he wasn’t looking at me, but through me. His smile curved at the corners, but it wasn’t kind. It was the kind of smile that knew secrets, dark ones, and delighted in holding them over your head.

I shuddered and tried to shake off the chill creeping down my spine. I was probably just being paranoid. Rich men like them looked at women like me all the time. Right?

Wrong.

The entire night, their eyes never left me. Whenever I glanced their way, Mr. Vans was watching with a gaze that burned, while Mr. Fletcher grinned like the devil himself. I felt hunted. Unsettled. Like I was prey in a game I didn’t understand.

And then... it happened.

As I was wiping down a table nearby, I overheard Mr. Fletcher lean toward Vans and say, loud enough for me to catch every syllable, “I’m going to have her. She’ll be mine.”

His voice was calm, deliberate—obsessed.

My blood turned to ice.

Fear gripped me. Not the fleeting kind that comes from watching horror movies or walking past a dark alley. This was real. Raw. Paralyzing. I kept my face composed, but inside, I was screaming.

The rest of the shift passed in a blur, each second dragging longer than the last. When it finally ended, I practically sprinted out the back exit into the cold night. The streets were quieter now, lit only by flickering street lamps and the occasional passing car.

I wrapped my jacket tighter around me and walked faster.

That’s when I noticed it.

A car. Dark. Unmarked. Following me at a distance. I picked up my pace, heart pounding. My hands trembled as I reached for my phone, but before I could even pull it out, the car sped up.

Tires screeched. Doors flung open.

Two men in black suits jumped out and grabbed me before I could scream. One covered my mouth with a gloved hand while the other restrained my arms. My bag fell to the ground, my phone clattering across the pavement, hopelessly out of reach.

“Sir, we have the lady you asked for,” one of them said, voice muffled but clear enough.

Panic consumed me. I kicked, I thrashed, but they were too strong. Everything went black as a blindfold covered my eyes, and I was shoved into the backseat of the car.

I don’t remember how long we drove. My thoughts were a mess of Why me? and What do they want? and Is this how it ends?

Eventually, the car stopped.

They dragged me out, still blindfolded, my hands now bound. The ground beneath my feet felt uneven. Stone. Cold. Damp. I could hear dripping water, echoing faintly like a distant leak in an old building. They led me into a room, then let go. I heard a heavy door close, and then the unmistakable sound of a lock clicking shut.

Silence.

When I finally pulled the blindfold off, my eyes adjusted to the dim, almost non-existent light. The room was cold and gray, its stone walls lined with nothing but shadows. There was no bed, no window, no furniture. Just four walls and a locked door.

I stood there, my back against the wall, heart racing.

I was alone. Trapped.

And yet... something told me this wasn’t random.

Something told me I was meant to be here.

Maybe it was the way Mr. Vans had looked at me. Or the way Mr. Fletcher had claimed me like a possession. Whoever these men were, they weren’t playing games. I was part of something much bigger, much darker.

But I wasn’t going to break.

My name is Aurora—and no matter what they had planned for me, I was going to survive this. I had to. Because behind this k********g, behind the fear and confusion, I sensed something else.

A secret.

And I was determined to uncover it—even if it meant walking through hell to do it.

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