Chapter 2

Seven years. We'd known each other for ten and loved each other for seven. I rose from an unknown dance student to the Royal Theatre's principal understudy, while he stayed beside me through late rehearsals, injuries, and my first performance there, watching only me.

He'd said I was his light, that my dancing was his salvation, that I'd be the only woman he'd ever love. Every word of it was a lie.

"Are you really that heartless?" the doctor pressed on. "She loved you for seven years. She even gave up so many international offers for you."

Silence. A long silence. Even the sounds of the instruments seemed to stop, as though everyone in the operating room were waiting for his answer. Then I heard him say, "For Sophie's future, I have to eliminate every possible threat."

"Besides, Sophie is my Moonlight, and she..." He paused. "She's just a shadow cast beneath that moonlight, one that never should've existed. A Shadow belongs in the dark. Taking dance away from her is the best arrangement for her. At least she'll still be alive, right?"

I closed my eyes. The pain in my left leg suddenly felt far away, and I remembered how he'd shouted outside the ER before the surgery, begging the doctor to save my leg because dancing was my life. What a performance, so convincing that part of me still wanted to believe I'd heard him wrong.

But the blinding lights above the operating table, the waves of pain tearing through my left leg, and that line, "A Shadow belongs in the dark," kept reminding me this wasn't a nightmare. It was real.

"Enough." Alexander's voice suddenly tightened. "I think she moved." I instantly relaxed every muscle and evened out my breathing as footsteps approached. Warm breath brushed my face, carrying his familiar cologne, the scent that once meant safety and home, and now only made me sick.

"She's not awake. The anesthesia hasn't fully worn off," the doctor said.

"Good." Alexander straightened up, his voice turning gentle again, so gentle it made my skin crawl. "Let me know when the surgery's done. I'll push her out myself." His footsteps faded, and somewhere between the clinking instruments and the numbness, my heart died.

I had no idea how long the surgery lasted. All I knew was that when I was wheeled out of the OR, I had already put on the face of a quiet, fragile woman who needed protection. Alexander came over at once, took my icy hand, and said hoarsely, "Claire, don't be scared..."

I looked at him. His eyes were full of pain, his lips pressed tight, and his fingers trembled as he carefully avoided the IV in my hand, as if I were some fragile treasure.

"Even if your leg... we still have a future." He bent down and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, the warmth of it nearly making me gag. "I'll stay by your side. I'll be your crutch, your support. Trust me. Sometimes leaving the stage is a kind of protection too."

I closed my eyes and let tears slide down. He thought I was moved. He even bent to wipe them away, as tenderly as if I were the world's most precious work of art. "Be good and get some rest. When you're better, I'll take you anywhere you want to go."

I wanted to laugh.