The Prison Of Elegance

A New Begining

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A New Beginning

Rose led me through a corridor lined with ornate paintings and gilded mirrors, her footsteps echoing softly against the marble floors. We reached a tall, double-door entrance, carved with intricate patterns that looked like vines frozen mid-bloom. She paused, offered me a gentle smile, and opened the doors with a fluid motion. What greeted me inside left me breathless.

The room was a dream spun into reality—a fashionista’s paradise. Garments hung on gold-plated racks, arranged by color and texture, like a rainbow of luxury. Silk, satin, velvet, and chiffon danced under the soft overhead lighting. Shoes gleamed from glass shelves like precious gems. Elegant heels, sleek boots, delicate flats—each pair was more stunning than the last. Designer watches rested in velvet-lined display cases, their faces glinting with sophistication. Handbags from the world’s most exclusive fashion houses sat perched on stands, and accessories—diamond-studded hairpins, bejeweled earrings, velvet chokers—were carefully organized in drawers that slid open silently.

My eyes widened with wonder. Every piece looked like it had been curated for a royal wardrobe.

“These… these are all for me?” I whispered, still trying to grasp the scene.

Rose nodded, her smile widening as she watched my reaction. “Master Geo had them selected for you, Miss Aurora. He believes every woman should feel like a queen.”

“But—how did he know my size?” I asked, my brows furrowing in confusion. “He’s never even seen me in person.”

Rose’s smile turned mysterious, her eyes twinkling like stars. “Master Geo has excellent instincts. You’ll find everything fits as if it were made just for you.”

I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or unnerved. It felt surreal. I reached out to touch a midnight-blue gown, and the fabric practically sighed beneath my fingers—so smooth and luxurious it sent chills up my spine.

Tentatively, I chose a dress. It was a fitted, off-shoulder design in a soft, blush-pink hue. As I slipped it on, I gasped. It hugged my frame perfectly, accentuating my waist, enhancing the curves I’d always felt self-conscious about. The hem brushed just above my knees, and when I looked in the mirror, I didn’t recognize myself.

The girl staring back had luminous skin, sculpted shoulders, and a glow that hadn’t been there before. My breath caught in my throat. I looked...beautiful.

“Do you like it?” Rose asked, watching me from the doorway.

“I… I love it,” I said, my voice trembling slightly.

Before I could fully process the transformation, a professional make-up artist entered the room. She introduced herself simply as Maëlle and smiled warmly. I hesitated, unsure. I'd never had a makeover before—at least not one done by someone with such obvious skill and elegance. But Rose nodded encouragingly, and I found myself agreeing.

Maëlle worked quietly, gently, her touch soft and confident. She used colors that matched my complexion and brought out the amber flecks in my eyes. Her blending was seamless, like watching a painting come to life on my face. When she was done, I barely recognized myself. My skin glowed with a radiant sheen, my lips were tinted a soft rose, and my eyes sparkled like liquid gold.

“You look stunning, Miss Aurora,” she said with satisfaction.

“Thank you…” I murmured, still dazed.

Just then, Rose’s voice echoed up the staircase. “Miss Aurora! You’re running late for school! Hurry down—and don’t forget your breakfast!”

Her voice, ever melodic and soothing, tugged me back to reality. I grabbed my bag, gave the room one last glance, and headed downstairs.

The scent of freshly baked waffles hit me like a wave. My favorite—golden, fluffy, with a hint of vanilla and a dusting of powdered sugar. Next to them sat a tall glass of raspberry juice, cool and inviting. My stomach growled in appreciation. I sat and ate quickly, savoring each bite while the staff moved around quietly. The armed guards stationed at the entrance remained still but watched me with curious eyes. It wasn’t threatening—just cautious, observant.

Once I finished, one of the guards approached and opened the door for me.

Parked outside was a sleek, limited-edition Lamborghini, its metallic black paint shimmering in the morning light. I blinked. The car looked like something out of a movie—elegant, powerful, and utterly surreal.

“This is my ride?” I asked, incredulous.

The guard gave a respectful nod. “Yes, Miss Aurora. Courtesy of Master Geo.”

As I slid into the passenger seat, the leather interior hugged my body like a second skin. The engine purred to life, and the driver pulled smoothly out of the estate gates.

On Campus

We arrived at the university just as the sun peeked above the rooftops, casting golden light across the campus lawns. Students were scattered across the entrance plaza, chatting in groups, scrolling through phones, sipping coffees.

Then they noticed the car.

Heads turned. Conversations paused. Phones were subtly raised to snap photos. The Lamborghini came to a gentle stop, its engine going silent with a refined hum. The doors opened with a quiet whoosh, and I stepped out.

Silence.

Then whispers.

“Who is that?”

“She must be someone important…”

“No way. That’s not… Aurora?”

I heard my name ripple through the crowd like a wave.

“Wait—the Aurora? The poverty-stricken freak?”

My heart skipped. That label had haunted me for years. It was what they whispered behind my back, what they texted in group chats, what they laughed about when they thought I couldn’t hear.

And yet, here I was.

I held my head high and walked across the plaza, every eye following me. I wasn’t sure if it was the dress, the makeup, or the sheer audacity of arriving in a Lamborghini, but people stared like I had just stepped off a runway. The once-dismissive glances I used to endure were now replaced with wide-eyed admiration and confused murmurs.

Some of the "cool guys" from my class—once oblivious to my existence—watched me with open interest. One of them even stumbled on the steps, too distracted to notice where he was walking. I felt a strange mix of satisfaction and disbelief.

Am I really that beautiful? I wondered. Or was it just the packaging?

Inside the building, the transformation caused just as much of a stir. Whispers followed me down the hallway like shadows. My classmates turned in their seats to watch as I entered the room.

My teacher paused mid-sentence when she saw me. She blinked, then offered a warm smile. “Welcome, Miss Aurora. You look… different today.”

I smiled, my confidence bolstered by everything that had led up to this moment. “Thank you, Professor,” I said, walking to my seat with calm dignity.

As I sat down, I felt the weight of their stares, their questions, their silent judgments—but also something new.

Respect.

Or maybe envy.

But most of all, curiosity.

Let them wonder. Let them guess.

They didn’t know my story, not really.

But they were about to find out.

This was only the beginning.

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