Chapter 264
Chapter 264:
I walked to the center of the floor. The other trainees backed away, leaving me isolated.
The music started.
Boom. Clap. Boom-boom. Clap.
I missed the first beat. I stood there, looking confused, my arms hanging limp.
Whitney let out a loud, cackling laugh. “Oh my God, she’s frozen p>
The instructor frowned, reaching for the stop button.
Then the beat dropped.
I snapped.
My body moved before my brain did. Muscle memory from years of ballet, contemporary, and the secret salsa classes I’d taken in my past life to please Liam—who never cared—flooded back.
I hit every beat with surgical precision. My movements weren’t just sharp; they were fluid. I added a layer of improvisation—a hip roll here, a hair flip there—that elevated the choreography from robotic to sensual.
I saw the instructor’s hand freeze over the button. His jaw went slack.
I spun. One, two, three rotations. Perfect balance. I landed in a crouch, staring directly into the mirror, directly at Whitney’s reflection.
The music ended.
I held the pose for a second, listening to the heavy silence in the room.
Then the instructor started clapping. Slowly.
“Who taught you?” he asked, walking over to me.
I stood, smoothing my hair. I couldn’t say I’d been trained by the Royal Academy before my mother died. That didn’t fit the narrative.
“YouTube,” I lied smoothly.
Whitney looked like she’d swallowed a lemon whole. Her face turned a blotchy purple.
I walked past her to get my water bottle. I leaned in close to her ear.
“Money bought the stage,” I whispered. “But I own the spotlight p>
I saw Miles looking at me differently now. The contempt was gone, replaced by a grudging, confused respect.
Grace stood in the corner, typing furiously on her phone.
𝗢r𝘪g𝗂𝗻𝗮l 𝖼𝗼ո𝘁𝗲𝗻t 𝖿𝗋𝘰𝗆 𝘣𝘦.с𝗈𝗆
To: Julian Vance
Subject: Update
Message: She’s not breaking. She’s dominating.
My burner buzzed in my pocket.
Reply from Julian: Good. Now break her spirit.
The rumor mill worked faster than the internet. By dinner, the whisper was that I had slept with the choreographer.
“That’s the only explanation,” Tiffany said loudly near the lockers. “YouTube? Please p>
I ignored them. I was changing into dry clothes when Grace stormed into the locker room. She looked pale. This wasn’t her usual staged-drama face. This was real fear.
She walked straight to me. She was holding a phone—a smartphone.
“It’s for you,” she said. “Make it quick p>
I took the phone. “Hello p>
“Ms. Sterling?” The voice was trembling. It was Ms. Davies, my secretary.
“Davies? What is it p>
“It’s Gabriel,” she said, and her voice cracked. “Gabriel Ross p>
My heart stopped. Gabriel was my hacker, my eyes, my key to the digital war.