Novel & Cerita Young Vanessa Hudgens

Adrian Westbrook. Jenna whistled from the couch. “Damn, girl. You look incredible.” Vanessa turned slowly, watching the skirt move with her. “You think Adrian will like it?” “Who cares what Adrian thinks? Do you like it?” Vanessa looked at her reflection one more time. Yes. She liked it. She loved it. This was really happening.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

"I am Veronica Vane. I am your one and only true Queen and Herald. No impostor can bring me down to the ground." I flew in front of Elspeth and whispered to her ear, "Even you, Elspeth… don’t have the capability to overpower me."

Steppenwolf said and gestured for all the other guys to follow him to another part of the shed we were into. Vanessa waited for the footsteps on the other side of the door to go silent, then turned to me and said, "Speak up. Ask the first thing that comes to your mind. I know that all of your questions must be exploding in your brain right now." She looked like the same girl as always, except for a wry smile and a more confident posture than the posture she used inside the palace. "Since when?" It was the first question that came to my mind. "Since I was 15. I've been prepared for this mission since I was a teenager, so I've been Vanessa Dustan since then," she replied.

She herself was looking way younger than her peers. "What's the problem?" Vanessa shook her head. "Nothing. I just didn't expect you to be so young. I thought we were age mates". "I'm sorry to ask but how old might The Queen Supreme be?" "I'll be 27 in the coming month". "Next month?? I bet it's gonna be a grand party!" "I don't know...." Vanessa trailed off. "But what I do know is that we should take a walk in the garden while I tell you a bit about the human world".

**Vanessa's POV** I surveyed the hall; the decorations were falling into place just as I'd envisioned. We were halfway through the setup. As I stepped into the room, the soft glow accentuated the hazel depths of my eyes, reflecting a mixture of curiosity and quiet confidence. Cascading curls framed my face, an intricate dance of chestnut waves that whispered tales of their own. Freckles, scattered like stardust, adorned my skin, each one a unique constellation tracing a map of experiences. With a smile that held hints of both mischief and humor.

Her long legs were crossed, her hair falling in waves around her shoulders, her expression the perfect mask of disinterest. For the first time in his career, Kelvin Carter seemed momentarily stunned. “And you are…?” he asked, trying for smooth charm. Vanessa finally lifted her gaze, cool and sharp. “Vanessa. Elena’s best friend.” She leaned back, lips quirking. “Don’t bother trying your usual lines. They won’t work here.” Elena’s jaw dropped. “Vanessa!” But Kelvin only looked more intrigued. He let out a low laugh. “A sharp tongue. Interesting. I like that.”

Not yet. “In a strange way, I had a nose job just for you all) Vanessa Hudson, Head of PR – a.k.a She Who Is Our Own Nemesis, had sneered at me when I walked in this morning. There was something about her look that made me feel that she had one of her “little surprises” ready. I saw the reflection of her phone right before the gala started. She’d threatened to expose our faux engagement as the last-minute stunt it had been, delivered to a gossip blogger who lived to unearth broken mirrors.

“I’m not. So can you please monitor her every day and when you find out that she’s a threat, report her. ” "Okay, noted." “One thing, I would like to get her profi ---“ “Done that,” he smirked. “Cassandra Yiel. 18 years old. March 28, 1995, and #000 Heaven Street, oh that’s weird. She was accepted here with just that information. She must be something.” “There is nothing else and where the hell is heaven street. Does that even exist? ” I said, frustrated. “That’s all I could find, Vlad. If you want to know, go ask her. ” I will.

A knock on the door brought her back to reality. "Boss, the team is ready for the meeting," Helena, Vanessa's assistant informed her. "I'll be right there." Shrugging away all the unnecessary thoughts off her mind, she grabbed her file and other necessary things which she needed for the meeting and made her way out of the office. Twenty-eight years old Vanessa Greene, a resident of Chicago, a city in Illinois, was a smart, beautiful and hardworking woman. Her greenish-blue eyes, lilac soft lips, slender eyebrows, velvety eye lashes and glossy skin made her look very attractive. Her midnight black hair flowed over her shoulder and a perfectly shaped body added to her beauty.

She was effortlessly beautiful, almost intimidating. She was wearing a simple yoga pants and a cropped top with her hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, but she still gave off model vibes. I recognized her immediately. She was the girl from the quad that day, the one whose tongue had been down Wesley's throat. "Hi," she said, her voice pretentiously. "You are Bowie, right?" I sat up straighter. "Yeah." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I'm Vanessa. I'm sure you have seen me around."