Enemy Of Enemy

Arabelle stared at her reflection with an air of dissatisfaction. The reflection in the ornate mirror displayed her perfectly styled hair, but it was clear that she was far from content with the result.

As Arabelle's stylist meticulously worked on her hair, she couldn't help but sigh softly, her expression revealing her unhappiness.

She sighed and complained softly, "I just can't seem to get the right look today. It's like something's missing. Just get me someone else if you cannot understand what to do!"

The high-end salon was a luxurious oasis nestled in the heart of the city, adorned with crystal chandeliers, plush velvet furniture, and the faint scent of exotic orchids in the air. It was the kind of place where the elite of the elite came to be pampered, and Arabelle was a regular fixture there. The stylist's hands trembled as she heard the girl complain.