Page 106 of The Bleak Beginning

I tsk, but can’t suppress the grin tugging at my lips. “Alright, work your magic.”

Aubrey weaves her artistry through my hair, creating soft, bouncy curls that frame my face while I work on perfecting my makeup.

“Okay, now for the pièce de résistance,” Aubrey announces dramatically, producing the black beaded mask from the box once we’re both finished.

I stay perfectly still as my friend carefully positions the mask over my eyes, securing it with delicate ribbons. The weight of the beads feels foreign, but not uncomfortable. When I look in the mirror again, I barely recognize myself. The mask transforms my face, lending me an air of mystery and allure that I’ve never possessed before.

“There,” Aubrey says, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “You’re perfect.”

I stand up, straightening out the tulle dress before I give one final glance at myself in the full-length mirror. After some consideration, I had opted for a bold lip color to match the deep red of my dress. My shoes are a strappy black that perfectly tie in with the dark beading on the dress and mask.

Aubrey beams, her eyes sparkling with pride beside me. “Alex Prescott, are you ready to set Altair ablaze?”

I have to admit, I look hot, really hot. No, scratch that—more than hot, I looked…absolutely stunning. The shimmering red dress hugs my curves in all the right places, accentuating my figure in a way that makes me feel powerful and alluring. Aubrey and I had crafted the perfect hair and makeup, with the perfect winged eye and tousled waves.

My pulse kicks into overdrive, but this time it’s with anticipation and excitement. I give her a firm nod. “Let’s do it.”

Altair’s expansive ballroom has been transformed into a dreamlike world of black and white. The walls are adorned with intricate lace cascading from floor to ceiling like delicate spiderwebs. Sparkling chandeliers hang from the ornate vaulted ceiling, casting a warm glow upon the room. A grand staircase leads down to the center of the ballroom, where a sea of students in elegant black-and-white attire mingle and dance under the twinkling lights. Masquerade masks add an air of intrigue to the already enchanting atmosphere. Fragrant flowers and flickering candles dot the room, creating a sense of whimsy and romance.

The university spared no expense creating a lavish atmosphere for the students, promising an unforgettable evening of mystery and glamour.

As Aubrey and I descend the grand staircase, I feel the weight of every eye in the room upon us. The sea of black and white parts as we make our way down, whispers and gasps rippling through the crowd.

“Chin up,” Aubrey murmurs beside me. “You’re a vision, and they all know it.”

I square my shoulders and force myself to relax. Because she’s right, I know I look amazing tonight.

As we reach the bottom of the staircase, the crowd parts, creating a path for us. I can feel the energy in the room shift, a palpable buzz of excitement and curiosity. Aubrey links her arm through mine, guiding me forward with a reassuring squeeze.

“Remember,” she whispers. “Tonight, you’re not just Alex. You’re whoever you want to be.”

I nod, feeling a thrill of anticipation at the thought. The mask isn’t just a disguise; it’s an invitation to reinvent myself. I’m a Prescott, after all, and maybe it’s time I start reminding people what that means.

We make our way to the center of the ballroom, where couples are already swaying to the music. The orchestra is playing a hauntingly beautiful waltz, the melody weaving through the air like tendrils of smoke. I scan the room, taking in the sea of masked faces, each one a mystery waiting to be unraveled.

As we navigate through the crowd, I catch snippets of whispered conversations.

“Who’s that in the red dress?”

“Is thatAlex Prescott?”

“I thought this was supposed to be black and white only…”

I grip Aubrey’s arm a little tighter, grateful for her steady presence.

Suddenly, the music shifts, and a familiar figure materializes before us. Even with his face obscured by an ornate black-and-gold mask, I recognize Camden Whitlock’s, lean frame and the confident set of his shoulders.

“Well, well,” he drawls, his voice rich with amusement. “What have we here? A rose amongst the thorns?”

“Don’t you have a hairbrush to find?” Aubrey mocks.

Camden’s gaze hardens behind his mask, but his smirk remains firmly in place. “Ah, Aubrey. Sharp-tongued as ever. Always making our grandmother so proud.”

“Well, there can only be one disappointment in the family, Camden,” Aubrey retorts, her voice dripping with disdain. “And you’ve claimed that title so thoroughly, so who am I to get in the way?”

The conflict between them is palpable, a mix of competition and underlying bitterness that hangs in the air. They start to exchange harsh words, each trying to outdo the other. Suddenly, my skin prickles with a sudden chill, and I have the distinct feeling that someone is watching me.

Standing up on the balcony beside the top of the grand staircase is a figure in all black, their face obscured by an elaborate mask of the same color. Eyes a striking shade of green meet mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch.

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