Chapter 271
Chapter 271:
The alarm on my bedside table buzzed at 5:00 AM, a harsh, mechanical sound that shattered the silence of the dormitory. I didn’t groan. I didn’t hit snooze. I rolled out of the narrow twin bed, my feet hitting the cold linoleum.
There were no limousines today. No rideshares. No drivers. I was a trainee in the Vance Media “Incubator,” and that meant I lived, ate, and breathed within the confines of this high-security complex. My world had shrunk to these four walls and the dance studios five floors below.
I pulled on my practice gear—black leggings and a simple tank top. I splashed cold water on my face in the communal bathroom, staring at my reflection under harsh fluorescent lights. No makeup. No jewelry. Just Skye.
I left the residential wing, my boots echoing in the empty hallway. I took the service stairs down to the practice floor, bypassing the elevators to get blood moving in my legs.
When I pushed through the double doors of the main lobby, the morning rush was just beginning. Assistants ran with coffee trays, models waited for badges, security guards scanned IDs. But the moment I stepped onto the marble floor, the noise level dropped.
It started as a ripple. Heads turned. Whispers erupted like wildfire, jumping from person to person.
“That’s her p>
“The bankrupt heiress p>
“I heard she’s living in a dorm p>
I kept my chin high, my gaze fixed on the studio doors. I could feel their eyes on me, sticking to my skin like humidity. It was the same scrutiny I’d endured as Mrs. Kensington, but the flavor was different. Back then, it was pity. Now, it was disdain mixed with curiosity.
Whitney and Daphne were standing by the water cooler, blocking the path like gatekeepers to hell. Whitney wore a crop top that cost more than my old car, sipping a latte with an air of aggressive boredom.
When she saw me, her lip curled. “Look who finally crawled out of her cell. How’s the bunk bed, Princess? Hard on the back p>
I didn’t break stride. I reached past her and grabbed a clean towel from the rack. “Excuse me. You’re blocking the air p>
Daphne giggled, a high, nervous sound. “I heard Dominic Thorne was seen screaming at you yesterday in the conference room. Did you beg him for money? Did you get on your knees like you used to for Liam p>
I stopped. I turned slowly to face them. The mirrored walls of the hallway made the space feel infinite and claustrophobic at the same time.
𝘋𝘪𝗌c𝘰𝘃𝖾𝗿 𝗻𝗲𝗐 s𝘁𝗼r𝗂𝖾ѕ 𝗈ո 𝖻𝗲𝗅𝗻𝘰𝘃𝘦lѕ.сo𝘮
Whitney leaned against the wall, looking me up and down. “It must be hard,” she mused, her voice dripping with faux sympathy. “Going from billions to… this. Begging for scraps p>
I didn’t blink. I remembered the image of the transfer confirmation on Dominic’s phone.
“He paid for his mistake,” I said, my voice calm, conversational, as if I were discussing the weather. “An expensive mistake p>
The air in the hallway went still.
Whitney choked on her latte, coughing violently as the liquid went down the wrong pipe. Daphne’s eyes bulged.
“What does that mean?” Whitney wheezed, wiping her mouth. “How much did you get out of him? A few thousand for a plane ticket p>
I stepped closer, invading her personal space just enough to make her flinch. I lowered my voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
“Enough to buy your father’s company,” I said, a small, enigmatic smile playing on my lips. “Twice. And still have enough left over to buy the building we’re standing in p>
I didn’t give a number. I didn’t need to. The ambiguity was a sharper weapon than the truth.
“You’re lying,” Whitney whispered, but the doubt in her eyes was palpable.
“Check the news,” I said. “Or ask Dominic. I’m sure he’d love to tell you exactly what my silence is worth p>
I pushed open the studio doors and walked inside, leaving them stunned in the hallway.
In the main practice room, Manager Grace was already clapping her hands, her sharp nails clicking together. “Listen up! Gather round p>