Chapter 272
Chapter 272:
The trainees swarmed around her, a sea of spandex and ambition. Whitney and Daphne hurried in late, looking rattled.
“We have a massive opportunity,” Grace announced, her eyes scanning the room but lingering on me. “A global luxury brand—Celestia—is looking for a new face for their ‘Rebirth’ campaign. They want raw. They want elegant. They want a dancer p>
A buzz of excitement moved through the room. Celestia was the holy grail. It was the kind of campaign that launched careers overnight.
Whitney recovered quickly. She tossed her hair. “My father knows the brand director. I’ve already had dinner with him p>
She glanced at me, her confidence returning. “Connections matter, Skye. Money can’t buy taste p>
“Can it buy talent?” I asked, dropping into a perfect split to stretch. The movement was effortless, my muscles already warm.
A trainee near me—a quiet girl named Maya—leaned in. “Is it true? About the money p>
I looked at her. She wasn’t malicious, just awestruck. “It’s true that I don’t need this job for the paycheck,” I said, loud enough for the room to hear. “I’m here because I want to be p>
Whitney scoffed. She moved to the center of the floor for warm-ups. As she passed Maya, she stuck her foot out. It was subtle—a quick flick of the ankle meant to send the girl sprawling.
I saw it before it happened. My body reacted on instinct. I lunged, catching Maya by the arm as she tipped. I hauled her upright with a strength that surprised us both.
I turned to Whitney. “Clumsy,” I said, my voice cutting through the music.
Whitney flushed, furious at being caught. “She tripped over her own feet p>
“Eyes front!” Grace barked, ignoring the altercation entirely. “Begin the sequence p>
The music started. I lost myself in it. The routine was complex, demanding high extensions and rapid turns. I executed every move with surgical precision. My lines were clean, my timing impeccable. I was technically perfect.
But as the music faded, Grace frowned. She walked over to me, circling like a shark inspecting a seal.
“Boring,” she declared.
The room went silent. Whitney smirked.
“What?” I asked, breathing hard.
𝗧𝘩𝗂ѕ 𝗌𝘵𝗈𝘳у 𝗯𝖾𝗅𝘰𝗻g𝗌 𝘵𝗼 be.𝗰𝘰𝗺
“It’s perfect,” Grace said, her voice heavy with disdain. “It’s robotic. There’s no pain in it. No soul. You dance like a machine that learned to move from a manual. Celestia wants ‘Rebirth.’ Rebirth comes from pain, Sterling. You look like you’ve never felt a thing in your life p>
I stared at her. Never felt pain? I had died. I had screamed in agony while my husband held another woman’s hand.
“You want pain?” I asked quietly.
“I want to feel something other than boredom when I look at you,” Grace snapped. “Do it again. And this time, bleed for me p>
Up in the glass-walled office overlooking the studio, Julian Vance watched the monitor. He took a sip of black coffee, his eyes narrowing as he watched my jaw tighten.
He picked up a pen and made a note on the file in front of him.
She’s too guarded. She needs to break before she can shine.
The dressing room was a war zone of hairspray fumes and scattered powder compacts. The air was thick with the scent of anxiety and expensive perfume.
Whitney had taken over the entire north wall. She’d brought her own glam squad—three people from LA who were currently fussing over her hair, nails, and skin all at once. They’d shoved three other trainees’ bags onto the floor to make room for their equipment cases.
Daphne, acting as Whitney’s lapdog, kicked my bag off a chair as she walked by. “Oops. No room for trash p>
I didn’t say a word. I walked over, picked up my bag, and dusted it off. It was a simple canvas tote—unassuming, hiding the dark secrets of my past life inside.