Ayla's POV
The fitting room felt less like a place to change clothes and more like a battleground wrapped in velvet and glass.
Normally, for me and for most girls, the fitting room was a sweet place. A small paradise. A space of mirrors, soft lights, and excitement. A place we always wanted to be.
But today, I couldn't feel any of that.
I didn't know if it was the unfamiliar luxury, the pressure of the moment, or the reason standing right outside the curtain.
Outside, Elena Morgan waited.
I could feel her presence even without seeing her, controlled, silent, commanding. The kind of presence that made the air feel tighter, heavier, like every breath had to be earned.
Somewhere beyond the thick curtain, attendants moved silently and professionally, careful with every step and every whisper, as if they too sensed they were standing inside something dangerous.
The first dress slid over my head like liquid silk.
