Chapter 3

The smile on Julian’s face froze.

Emma stared at me with wide eyes.

"Mommy... are you really going to dance?"

I slipped on my ballet shoes and walked past them without another word.

The lights dimmed.

The music began.

I completed the first eight counts without hesitation.

When I landed the second turn, Judge Evelyn Carter, who had been looking down at her paperwork, slowly lifted her head.

The smug look on Julian’s face began to fade.

Emma stood perfectly still, unable to take her eyes off me.

The music swelled.

I completed my first full sequence of consecutive turns in seven years.

Quiet murmurs spread across the judges’ table.

"Her technique is still there."

"If she finishes cleanly, she deserves the next round."

My heartbeat thundered in my ears.

Just one last movement.

If I finished it...

I could finally stand on a stage again.

The instant I pushed off the floor, a sharp pain ripped through my ankle.

My balance vanished.

Bang.

I hit the center of the stage hard.

A wave of startled gasps swept through the theater.

The music kept playing.

I braced myself against the floor and tried to stand.

The moment I put weight on my right foot, unbearable pain shot up my leg.

One of the judges lowered his head and wrote something on my evaluation sheet.

Julian sat in the audience with a faint, knowing smile.

As if he were saying,

I told you so.

You’re not the Elena Vance you used to be.

Emma looked at me in silence.

The amazement in her eyes slowly disappeared.

In its place was disappointment.

Only Ivy wasn’t smiling.

She stared at the exact spot where I had stopped before falling.

The color slowly drained from her face.

Because that turn.

That lift of my wrist.

That brief pause before the leap.

Ivy stared at me as though she had seen a ghost.

At the center of the judging panel, Judge Evelyn Carter, who had remained silent the entire time, finally looked up.

"Wait."

The staff members rushing toward the stage stopped in their tracks.

She never looked at my injured ankle.

Her eyes remained fixed on the place where I had taken off.

Then she asked quietly,

"Who taught you that final sequence?"

I looked up.

Before I could answer, a sharp crash echoed backstage.

Everyone turned.

The glass had slipped from Ivy Sinclair’s hand and shattered on the floor.