Classroom Of The Elite 2 Novels & Stories

The room was a masterclass in minimalist luxury – dark wood, supple leather, and state-of-the-art technology seamlessly integrated into the elegant design. Malik sat at a massive, polished desk, a sleek laptop open before him. On the screen, a crystal-clear CCTV footage played. It was the office, the scene of Elara's humiliation. He watched, his jaw tight, as Sebastian's enraged face filled the frame, Elara's desperate pleas almost audible even without sound. He saw the shocked faces of their co-workers, frozen in disbelief. He saw the harsh slap that echoed through the silent video, followed by the cruel thrust of the divorce papers into Elara's trembling hands. He watched her crumple, her

“There go the elites,” one of the students said sarcastically when they saw the elite class entered the classroom. They had been taking classes with them for a month but they find it hard to approach them since they acted like they have their own world. It was as if they were telling them that they are in a different league of their own. “I don’t have a problem with the other elites, so I don’t really know why I hate that green-haired guy,” Sean Jr., the eldest son of Baron Wyeth said with arrogance.

Through the morning traffic, a Maserati MC20 Cielo was on its way to the ELITÈ academy, and inside the back seat was Eric, who turned to his sister, his brow furrowed with deep concern, “Eleanor, are you sure you should be resuming school this fast? It has only been a few days.”

The late afternoon sun shone gently through the tall windows of Rosewood Elite Class, a place for the best students and children from rich families. The walls were cream colored and shiny, with gold decorations and fancy moldings. The furniture looked like it belonged in a five star hotel well polished wood with glass tops, soft leather chairs in royal blue, and long velvet curtains in light blue. Each desk had a screen built into the wood for private reading and lessons. A small but elegant chandelier hung in the middle of the room, casting a warm light over the students sitting in neat rows.

I turned to see Emery strutting from the school gates, his designer uniform pristine, his smirk dripping with arrogance. Jack ruffled his hair. "Perfect timing, bud. This guy claims our car is his. What's your take?" "I know his type," Emery scoffed, his tone too old for his years. "A kid in my class brags about being loaded but can't even afford a decent toy." He sized me up like I was roadkill. "Mister, you know how much this car costs? My mom says it's worth a house. Look in the mirror and tell me you can afford it."

Elaine cut her off. Ariel understood. "Alright, let me show you the intermediate class." There were two intermediate classes. Ariel led Elaine to the front of the top intermediate class and continued her introduction. Elaine paid no attention to her. Scanning the classroom, she counted inwardly: one, two, three… She remembered Diana telling her the child was in the second row in class, fourth from the front. Looking over, she saw an incredibly adorable little girl with chubby cheeks. Her eyes were big and round. She had a cute petite nose and a pair of plump lips. Her hair was styled into two small pigtails with strawberry-shaped hair ties.

Elena said, trying to sound casual. Clara nodded, looking around, still worried. "Sure, I'll order us some coffee." Elena went to the bathroom and, after entering one of the stalls, with trembling hands, removed the vibrator, feeling immediate relief, although she knew the real tension was yet to come. Looking at her own reflection in the establishment's mirror, the young woman wondered what was so serious that Clara needed to talk to her in person instead of delivering the news over the phone. Clara, who years ago had said with all her might that she was leaving that "city of failures" to find a "real place" to live.

"What?" "Stop getting lost, go clean up, we have to go down for breakfast." She conveyed and I rolled my eyes. "And don't forget that you're having class by eleven." She added and the urge to cry choked me. The classes were just extra classes organized by some top-ranking students in the school and by top-ranking, I mean both in money, connection, and in the brain. They call themselves elites and if I gain their favor with my hard work, it's a plus in getting the scholarship.