As night loomed closer, Madam Eleanor walked down the quiet corridor toward the wing where her ladies resided. Reaching the heavy, gold-plated door at the end of the hall, she pushed it open. Instantly, she was greeted by a familiar swirl of luxury perfume, hot styling oils, and a cloud of hairspray. The expansive room was structured perfectly, holding ten beds—five lined up precisely on each side—with the remaining living space stretching toward the back.
Madam Eleanor stepped forward, a warm, radiant smile gracing her lips. "Hello, my girls. We have a special night ahead of us, and it is going to be spectacular," she grinned, her presence instantly commanding the room. "We are expecting royalty, oil tycoons, and some high-profile politicians. We’re going to make this night completely unforgettable."
Beaming at the room of women, she gave a final nod. "Now, finish getting ready and look your absolute best." With that, Madam turned and walked out, a glint of sin dancing in her ageless eyes.
The moment the heavy doors clicked shut, a young, new girl leaned over to her neighbor. Twisting her fingers anxiously, she asked in a worried, hushed tone, "Who is she, really?"
A senior girl looked over at the newcomer, barely pausing as she expertly fixed her midnight shade of eyeshadow. "Madam Eleanor helps those who need it," she replied, her voice steady and full of fierce loyalty. "The ones who've been thrown away like yesterday's trash. She gives us food, shelter, and a real home. She treats us like family." She eyed the new girl sharply before turning back to the mirror to finish her makeup.Just then, another lady strutted past, her crimson hair vibrant against a tight leather mini dress. She paused, leaning down toward the new girl. "Madam Eleanor has been here a long time, helping women all over. And if anyone ever wants to leave, the door is always open," she whispered, her eyes wide with mystique. "Madam Eleanor is incredibly powerful. Do you know why she looks so young, even though she's been walking this earth for over 200 years? It's because she..."
Ahem.
Someone loudly cleared their throat from the doorway.
Every head in the room snapped around. Standing under the frame was Madam's assistant, her arms crossed and a severe expression on her face.
"I would choose my words very carefully," the assistant spoke, her tone cutting through the room like a razor-sharp knife.