Glitter, Ghosts & Girls with Secrets
Saturday, February 15th (aka The Morning After)Dear Diary,
I'm writing this from a velvet daybed in the conservatory while sipping an oat milk matcha prepared by a former Michelin-starred chef we now keep on retainer. Because some people — namely me — need green drinks and serenity after a social apocalypse.
Why?
Because my Roses & Revenge party — which cost roughly the GDP of a small island nation — was hijacked by mud, mystery, and Leonora's sudden transformation into an unhinged, gothic tomb raider.
Let me set the stage.
✦ The Cortzel Australian Estate™️
Yes, Diary — I call it an "estate" now.I've upgraded the term. The local realtors say "house," but it has:
Eight bedrooms
A rose garden with imported French soil
A wine cellar larger than the St. Augustine's gymnasium
And a koi pond in the shape of the Cartier panther logo
So yes. Estate. We've reclaimed our wealth narrative.
The ballroom alone has three chandeliers, two secret doors (don't ask), and one golden harp no one knows how to play but everyone pretends they do for aesthetic purposes.
✦ The Party Aftermath
This morning, I woke up to:
My Prada heels still sticky from someone's off-brand guava punch
My group chat ("Cortzel Inner Circle ♛") blowing up with blurry photos of Leonora in mud-soaked Lululemon, shouting about "the Ashthorn legacy"
Cressida Bellamy liking every photo from the party except the ones with me in them. A calculated move.
Our maid, Isadora, scrubbing something ancient and vaguely magical-looking off the guest bathroom mirror
I had to cancel brunch with the Austrian fencing twins.
✦ Leonora's "Goth Girl Summer" Arc
Apparently, while I was serving looks and lemon macarons in a Valentino mini, Leonora was spelunking beneath the chapel like some tragic Brontë heroine in sneakers. She emerged mid-party holding an old book, a rat skull, and the kind of wide-eyed panic you usually only see on girls in horror films who die before the second act.
She shouted something about a secret society of elite girls who control the school from the shadows. Everyone clapped because they thought it was performance art.
She fainted next to the mini quiches.My quiches, diary. Imported French gruyère.Ruined.
✦ Meanwhile, I Am Being Targeted
Let's talk about what really matters.
There is a coordinated campaign — and I do mean coordinated — to unseat me as the dominant social power at St. Augustine's.
Exhibits A through ∞:
Cressida Bellamy's suspiciously perfect hairline
Juniper Cross suddenly "accidentally" showing up to fencing practice in custom Dior fencing gear (??? Who even tailors that??)
Ava Fernandes pretending she's "just naturally good at cello" after showing up with a $60,000 carbon-fiber bow her "uncle" designed
I'm not paranoid. I'm rich. There's a difference.
So here's what I'm going to do:
Operation Social Reset
Host an invitation-only "Wellness & Witchcraft" themed brunch on the rooftop. No phones. No peasants.
Leak a perfectly filtered image of me studying an ancient book — to steal back Leonora's mystery thunder. (I'll borrow hers while she's distracted with rats.)
Invite the headmistress's niece to my tennis club. (She's terrible. But politically necessary.)
Seduce the new fencing coach. He's 28 and recently divorced. It's what he deserves.
✦ Closing Thoughts
Leonora's digging up curses and conspiracies.I'm rebuilding the social order from a sea of Gucci dust and betrayal.
We are not the same.
But if she uncovers something powerful in that book — some secret group of girls pulling strings and handing out favors — well… I'm not above becoming a little bit cursed if it comes with influence.
As long as I look good in the group photos.
More soon, Diary. I have a revenge brunch to plan.
XOXO,Leoni Cortzel, perfectly polished, aggressively privileged, dangerously underestimated