Chapter 1

The day I got my admission letter from Royal Ballet School was the same day Ulysses d'Amboise brought his fiancée Ginger Collentine home.

The email on my phone screen glowed faintly.

I stared at the bright red admission sign for what felt like forever, my eyes stinging until tears threatened to fall.

This was my dream school—one of the world’s most prestigious stages for ballet. But right then, it just felt like the universe was mocking me.

I called Aunt Petunia. On the other end of the line, her joyful voice rang out. “Darcey! Have you made up your mind?”

“Yeah. I’ve decided to go to London.”

I didn’t want to see that man who hurt me over and over again anymore.

I just wanted this exhausting, messed-up, 15-year age gap nightmare to end.

But I never thought there’d come a day when he’d stand in front of me again, kneeling, begging me to take him back.

——

Eight years ago… It was a rainy night when my biological dad—drunk behind the wheel—crashed his car. That accident that took him and my biological mom away from me forever.

I was only 10 years old. I was lost about the world back then. I was lucky the d'Amboises took me in, this orphan with no one else to rely on.

They gave me a complete home.

At that time, Ulysses was already 15 years older than me. From the moment I moved in, he treated me like his own little sister.

He helped me with my studies, practiced dance routines with me, and shielded me from every piece of gossip that came my way.

Under his care, I slowly crawled out of the dark hole my parents’ deaths left behind. I found the courage to live again.

Looking back now, maybe it was then that a dangerous little seed was planted in my heart.

By the time I realized it, it had already taken root, growing so deep it was impossible to pull out.

I was 15.

It was New Year’s Eve when I confessed to him for the first time.

I really thought that if I just said it out loud, I’d get the answer I wanted from the man who had been taking care of me for five years.

But all he did was ruffle my hair and say, “Silly girl. You’re too young to know what this feeling is.”

It felt like my world shattered.

I didn’t believe him—there was no way he didn’t love me!

After that, I started confessing to him every chance I got—every special holiday.

At first, he’d patiently try to talk me out of it. Then, he just stopped saying much of anything.

And eventually, he started avoiding me altogether. He worked late, coming home later and later.

Then he started showing up at events with different women on his arm.

Until three months ago, when he brought Ginger home.

“This is Ginger, my fiancée,” he said, calm and matter-of-fact, in the foyer.

I stood frozen on the staircase, staring at the woman. She was beautiful in her Chanel suit.

She had her arm looped through him, a perfect little smile on her face.

“You must be Darcey,” she said, her tone warm but formal. “Lee talks about you all the time.”

At that moment, it felt like someone had reached into my chest and crushed my heart in their fist.

The pain spread, filling my body like a poison until I thought my knees might give out.

But I still managed to smile. “Welcome to the family, Ginger.”

After that day, I started pulling back from him. I stopped waiting for him at dinner. Stopped hovering near his study. Even when we did cross paths, our exchanges were brief and distant.

Just like tonight.

I heard the sound of keys turning in the lock—he was home.

I was halfway up the stairs when his voice stopped me. “Darcey.”

I froze but didn’t turn around. “Yeah?”

“This weekend, Ginger and I are going villa hunting. You want to come along?”

My grip tightened on the staircase railing until my knuckles turned white. “No, I’ve got dance practice.”

“I see.” He paused. “Oh, by the way, Ginger and I have set a date—we’re getting married at the end of the year.”

Those words hit me like a hammer straight to the chest.

Chapter 2

I forced back my tears, doing my best to keep my voice steady. “Congratulations to you both.”

The second those words left my mouth, I practically bolted upstairs, shutting myself in my room. The tears I’d been holding back finally spilled over, streaming silently down my face.

I grabbed my phone and stared at that admission letter once more.

Maybe this was the universe’s way of cutting me a break—a chance to leave with my dignity intact without having to watch their wedding play out in front of me.

Outside the window, the sunset had turned the sky a blood-red hue.

Kind of like the love I’d stubbornly held onto all these years—destined to fade away in the evening light.

It was time to leave.

I wiped my tears and started searching for plane tickets online.

The new semester would start at the end of August, but I decided to leave a month early. I would need time to settle in to get acquainted with my new life.

Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a message from my Aunt Petunia.

[Darcey, I’ll handle your passport and visa. You just focus on getting ready, okay? Let me know if you need help with anything.]

I felt my eyes sting again reading her words.

She’d tried, gently, to tell me before to let my feelings for Ulysses go. But I was too stubborn to listen.

Now, looking back, I realized she’d been right. Some paths just don’t lead anywhere.

Laughter floated up from downstairs—Ginger must’ve arrived. I turned up the music on my phone and started packing.

In the back of my closet, I found a pile of postcards and photos I’d stashed away over the years—all tied to Ulysses.

I looked through them one by one. Each photo felt like a tiny blade, slicing fresh wounds into my heart.

In the end, I packed them all into a box, sealing them away along with the naive feelings of my younger self.

This time, I was leaving for good. Taking my secret with me, along with my dream of becoming a professional ballerina, and a love I couldn’t hold onto. I’d go somewhere no one knew me and start fresh.

There, no one would know I was adopted by the d'Amboises. No one would know I’d fallen for someone I never should’ve loved.

I could finally chase my dreams without these feelings trapping me here.

As the night deepened, I stood by the window and watched Ulysses walk Ginger to her car.

They hugged in front of the car, exchanging kisses in the twilight.

I looked away and gently closed the curtains.

‘Goodbye, brother.’

‘Goodbye, my first love.’

Seven days before my flight—the same day Ginger moved in—I was in the practice room, rehearsing a new dance routine.

Through the floor-to-ceiling mirror, I saw her walk in, flanked by maids carrying two Louis Vuitton luggage.

Ulysses was right behind her, holding her makeup bag in one hand.

“Darcey, come help out,” he called to me.

I took off my headphones, wiping sweat from my forehead. “I still gotta practice—the competition’s coming up soon.”

Ginger slid her arm through his, smiling bright and charming.

“Lee, don’t distract your sister. I heard she’s competing in the Youth America Grand Prix. She can’t afford to lose focus.”

Her words sounded sweet enough, but they made my skin crawl

And just as I guessed, her tone shifted as she continued.

“Though honestly, Darcey, you’ve been practicing forever, and your moves still aren’t smooth. Maybe it’s time to find a better coach?”

I bit my lip and stayed quiet.

This routine was mine, a mix of contemporary and traditional dance. I’d spent months perfecting every step.

Ulysses patted her hand gently. “Alright, let’s go get your room set up.”

As I watched them walk away together, I took a deep breath and put my headphones back on.

The music started, and I lost myself in my own world. Ballet was my only refuge—the only place where I could momentarily forget all my troubles.

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

But that peace didn’t last long.

Ginger started redecorating the villa as if she were already the wife.

My favorite oil painting? Gone. She swapped it for some postmodern installation art she loved. She even installed security cameras in every corner of the villa.

The dining room got a fancy new set of bone china, but the home-cooked meals I grew up with? Those were history.

“You’ve all been eating way too carelessly these past few years,” she said, directing the chef. “From now on, you should be more particular. Darcey, you should learn to develop some taste.”

I stared at the exquisite but soulless dish in front of me and found myself missing Miss Merrill’s simple bowl of mac and cheese.

But Miss Merrill got fired. Ginger’s reason? “She wasn’t professional enough.”

And Ulysses turned a blind eye to all these changes.

He was getting busier, leaving early and coming home late. And when he was home, all his time was spent with Ginger.

“Lee, don’t you think this painting looks good here?”

“Sure.”

“Darling, will you come with me to pick curtains this weekend?”

“Of course.”

He never said no to her. It was like this villa had always been hers to run.

I started hiding out in the rehearsal room out of habit, hoping to escape her, but even there, I couldn’t.

One day, while I was rehearsing, she walked right in without warning. “Darcey, can I use this room for a bit? My friends want to see it.”

I glanced at the clock. The Youth America Grand Prix was just a day away. “I still need to practice…”

“It’ll only take a moment.” She’d already opened the door, letting in a group of women dressed to the nines.

I had no choice but to pack up and leave. As I passed by, I overheard one of them whisper, “So, this is the adopted daughter? She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

“She is,” Ginger replied, her tone smug. “I heard she used to cling to Lee all the time. But it’s fine now—I’m here to keep an eye on things.”

I froze for half a second, then kept walking, saying nothing.

Back in my room, I turned on my laptop to review my rehearsal videos, looking for areas to improve. But as soon as I opened Facebook, I saw a dance video going viral.

Curious, I clicked on it—and my heart dropped.

It was my rehearsal from two weeks ago. But someone else had slapped their watermark on it.

The comments were filled with praise for the creativity of the choreography, but no one mentioned my name.

I immediately looked up the account that posted it. It belonged to one of the competitors in tomorrow’s competition.

My stomach sank. Plagiarism like this wasn’t new in the dance industry, but I never thought it would happen to me.

As I was preparing to gather evidence to defend my rights, there was a knock at the door.

“Darcey, come out for dinner,” Ulysses called.

I wiped my eyes. “I’m not hungry.”

There was a pause. “Don’t stay holed up in your room all the time.”

“I’m fine. You mans eat without me.”

Another moment of silence passed. Then, his footsteps finally faded away.

I stared at my laptop screen, debating whether to tell him about this. In the past, I would go to him right away whenever I ran into trouble.

But now? I didn’t even know how I should speak to him.

As his sister? I certainly had crossed that line long ago.

As his friend? We’d grown so distant that even casual conversations felt strained.

Just then, my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number.

[Want that video taken down? Then drop out of the competition.]

I stared at the message for a long time until I laughed.

Chapter 4

Maybe this is the price I have to pay—losing the family that adopted me, losing the man I still secretly love, and now, losing the chance to chase my dreams.

It was late at night when I heard piano music coming from downstairs. Ginger was playing Moonlight Sonata, the piece she’s best known for. As the elegant notes filled the air, I heard Ulysses’s voice, filled with admiration.

This must be what a perfect match looks like.

They both came from prominent families, had the best education, and knew all the high society rules—things I could never learn.

And me? I’m just an orphan raised on charity, foolishly falling for someone I should never have loved.

I opened my closet and stared at the dress I’d bought for the competition. It took me forever to save up for it, but now it felt like it was all for nothing.

At least I still had Royal Ballet School. At least I still had a shot at starting over.

I grabbed my phone and typed a message to the number: [Alright, I’ll withdraw. But you need to delete the video and promise never to use this choreography.]

The reply came almost instantly. [Deal.]

I set my phone down and walked to the window.

The moonlight poured down like water, lighting up the roses in the yard. Ginger had planted them after she moved in, saying they were her favorite.

Once upon a time, this yard had my favorite Carolina jasmine flowers. When they bloomed, the whole garden smelled sweet. But now, like me, those Carolina jasmine flowers didn’t belong here anymore.

The piano music downstairs faded away. I could hear their laughter, her playful voice, and his sweet replies.

Everything was so perfect—so perfect that it made me feel like an outsider.

Or maybe I was always an outsider. From the beginning, it was just me forcing myself into this family’s picture. Now, it was time to walk away.

I picked up a pen and started writing my withdrawal letter. My hand shook slightly as I wrote.

Before I left, I had to protect what was mine. Even if I couldn’t dance this piece in public, I would never let anyone steal it.

This was my pride—my final act of defiance in this villa.

But I never expected the world to take even that last bit of pride away.

I stood backstage, listening to the applause echoing outside.

I had already submitted my withdrawal letter, but at the last minute, I was told the judges had rejected it.

“The competition’s about to start. Withdrawing now would mess up the whole schedule,” they said.

What shocked me even more was that Ginger, as the Vice President of the YAGP, was one of the judges.

This news shook the other contestants—after all, everyone knew she was Ulysses’s fiancée.

“Next, Darcey Lynn,” the staff member called, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I took a deep breath and adjusted my dress. It was one I’d designed myself meticulously, incorporating classic water-sleeve elements. Each spin would create a graceful arc.

The moment I stepped onto the stage, I felt strangely calm. The spotlight illuminated me as I assumed my starting pose, waiting for the music to play.

But as soon as the first note rang out, I knew something was wrong. This wasn’t the music I had prepared.

I glanced up at the judges’ table and locked eyes with Ginger. She gave me a faint, mocking smile, casually flipping through her scoring sheet like none of this had something to do with her.

Before I could react, the big screen on stage suddenly lit up.

It was a video—footage of me practicing the stolen choreography.

Then, the lights in the venue came on, abrupt and blinding.

Chapter 5

Ginger stood up, wearing a long, flowing white dress, and walked gracefully onto the stage. The music started again—it was the piece for my dance.

“Judges, audience, before we begin, I have something to reveal.” Her voice carried through the entire hall, amplified by the mic. “This contestant’s performance? It’s actually plagiarized from my original work.”

The crowd erupted. I stood there, frozen, watching the scene in disbelief.

“This dance,” she continued, “is something I created last year during my study trip in Paris. And to prove it, I’ll perform the original version right now.”

The music began again, and she started to move. Every step and every expression… matched mine perfectly. Because it was mine—my dance, my hard work, my creation.

I looked toward the other judges, desperate for someone to see through this. But all I saw on their faces was doubt and disgust.

The worst part? Ulysses was sitting in the front row, head down, not even glancing in my direction.

“This isn’t true…” My voice shook. “This is my work. I can prove it…”

“Oh?” Ginger stopped mid-dance, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “And how will you prove it? With your rehearsal videos? Those videos were all recorded after I publicly released my piece.”

She wasn’t wrong. Every shred of evidence I had was useless, thanks to the trap she’d set. Whoever threatened me to drop out of the competition? It had to be her accomplice!

My vision blurred, and I staggered back a few steps. The whispers in the audience became louder and louder, and I heard what some of them said.

“So it’s true—she really plagiarized.”

“No wonder she’s been freeloading off the d'Amboises! What kind of person does that?”

“Poor Mr. d'Amboise, taking in someone so ungrateful!”

Each word cut deeper than the last. I looked at Ulysses, silently begging him to step in and say something. But he just sat there, unmoving.

Then, out of nowhere, a voice rang out. “Hold on!”

I turned and saw my coach Debra Jasinski rushing onto the stage.

“This dance is Darcey’s original work,” she said firmly. “I can vouch for her. I’ve witnessed every step, from her initial concept to the choreography!”

Ginger didn’t even flinch, just smiled faintly. “Miss Jasinski, are you sure about that? You do realize giving false testimony is a serious legal offense, right?”

Miss Jasinski hesitated for a moment but quickly firmed up her stance. “I’m only telling the truth.”

“Well then,” Ginger said, pulling out a document from her assistant’s hand. “This is the creative registration from the Paris Opera Ballet School, dated October of last year. Miss Jasinski, can you prove Darcey Lynn was working on her piece before that?”

Miss Jasinski went silent. She couldn’t. I had only started creating this dance earlier this year.

“That’s enough,” I blurt out, my voice strangely coming out steady. “I’m withdrawing from the competition.”

With that, I turned to leave the stage.

But Ginger wasn’t done. “Can withdrawing erase the fact that you plagiarized?” she said coldly. “I suggest the judges take this matter seriously as a warning to the other contestants.”

I stopped and stared back at her. This woman wasn’t satisfied with just taking my love—she wanted to destroy my dreams too.

But what was the point of arguing? No matter how many explanations I’d make, they would appear powerless against her carefully made-up story.

One last time, I looked at Ulysses. Finally, he raised his head, and our eyes met.

For a brief moment, I saw hesitation and pain in his gaze.

But in the end… he chose to stay silent.

Chapter 6

That was it.

I turned and walked off the stage, ignoring the rising buzz of murmurs behind me.

By the time I reached backstage, I heard Ginger announcing she’d perform the dance again—this time as the original creator.

The worst part? She danced it really beautifully.

Of course, she did. She’d had plenty of time to dissect every move and every expression. She didn’t just steal my work—she wanted to parade it in front of everyone like it was hers all along.

I didn’t look back. I just kept walking until I was out of the venue.

It was drizzling outside. I stood there in the rain, letting the cold drops soak my whole body.

And at that moment, I finally got it—some things can’t be kept… no matter how hard you try.

Like my feelings for Ulysses.

Like my dream of becoming a professional ballet dancer.

Both had been torn apart in this carefully planned disaster.

The rain came down harder, matching the tears I couldn’t hold back anymore. They just poured out, no stopping them.

When I got back from the competition, I locked myself in my room for two full days. No food, no water.

Meanwhile, that ridiculous video spread like wildfire online. My socials blew up with angry strangers flooding my feed.

[Plagiarist!] [Ingrate!] [Shameless!]

Each word hit like sharp arrows, piercing my heart deeper than I thought possible.

On the third morning, I finally came out of my room.

In the dining room, Ginger was sitting there, enjoying a fancy breakfast. When she saw me, she gracefully wiped her mouth with a napkin.

“Awake? I was starting to think you were planning to starve yourself to death in there.”

I went straight to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water.

But of course, she wouldn’t let it go.

“Darcey, about the competition,” she said. “We should probably talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” I twisted the cap off the bottle, my voice raspy.

“How could there not be anything to talk about?” She set her fork down. “Do you have any idea what kind of damage this has done to the d'Amboises? People online are saying they raised an ungrateful wolf! Even Lee’s company is taking a hit!”

My hand froze mid-twist. “So?”

“So,” she said, her voice dripping with fake kindness, “I think you should release a statement. Admit to the plagiarism, apologize to everyone—it’s really the best solution for all of us. Don’t worry, though. If you take responsibility, I won’t press charges.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Admit it? Why should I admit to something I didn’t do?”

“You still don’t get it, do you?” Her tone suddenly turned cold. “This industry is small. You really think you’ll have a future in ballet dancing if you cross me?”

I turned to face her, staring at her. “Do you hate me that much?”

“Hate you?” She chuckled. “Why would I hate you? You’re just the adopted kid. You’re not even worth competing with. I just can’t stand the way you look at Lee—it’s so obvious. Honestly, anyone watching might think you two… have something going on.”

These words are like a knife, accurately piercing my soft spot. My grip on the bottle tightened, my hand shaking. “You’ve known all along?”

“Gosh, everyone knows!” She stood, taking a step closer. “Everyone except Lee, who still insists on seeing you as a little sister. But not anymore. He’s finally seen you for who you really are. Someone who steals other people’s work. How good of a person could you possibly be?”

I could feel my composure cracking. “You stole my work and then turned it all back on me?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Got any proof? If you don’t, you should really keep your mouth shut. It won’t end well for you.”

Just then, a voice cut through the tension.

“What are you two talking about?”

I turned and saw Ulysses standing in the doorway, sharp in his suit, brows furrowed.

I couldn’t tell how much he’d heard.

Chapter 7

Ginger immediately put on this helpless, pitiful look. “Lee, I just wanted to persuade Darcey to admit her mistake and stop being so stubborn.”

I turned to him, hopeful that he’d see through her act and understand the truth. But he just let out a sigh. “Darcey, let’s end this here.”

That sentence shattered me completely.

So, in his eyes, I really was just an ungrateful plagiarist.

“Fine. Let’s end it here.” I nodded, my voice bitter, strained. “Enjoy your meal. I’ve got things to do.”

I turned around and headed upstairs, locking myself in my room again. The moment I hit the bed, the tears came uncontrollably.

Turns out, the worst part isn’t being falsely accused. It’s not the insults from strangers online. It’s being misunderstood by the one person you trusted the most.

The one who promised to protect me—always—now chose silence.

I opened my laptop, searching for flights. The soonest, the fastest.

If there’s no place for me here, then why stay?

Suddenly, my phone rang. It was Aunt Petunia.

“Darcey, I saw the news,” she said, her voice filled with concern. “Sweetie, are you okay?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Auntie, I want to leave early.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Your passport and visa are ready. When do you want to go?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Alright. I’ll book the ticket now.” She paused. “You don’t need to explain anything, sweetie. I understand. Some things… time will prove.”

After the call, I started packing. There wasn’t much I wanted to take. The ballet dancing supplies I’d collected over the years? I didn’t even want to take them. They were loaded with memories I couldn’t bear to relive.

Halfway through packing, I noticed my notebook was gone—the one where I’d sketched out the entire process of my choreography, from the first idea to the final steps. It was the only proof I had of my innocence.

I tore through the room, checking every corner, but it was nowhere. And then, a chilling thought hit me. ‘Had Ginger stolen it?’

But honestly, what did it matter now? Even if I found it, what would it change?

Late at night, I heard Ulysses and Ginger talking downstairs.

They were chatting about wedding plans, decorating their new villa, and their future together. Their voices floated through the floor like a dull knife, repeatedly twisting and tearing at my heart.

I stood by the window, staring at the roses blooming in the yard.

There was a time when I also pictured myself beside Ulysses. A different version of us, a different future. But now, even the simplest thing—trust—is gone. What was left to hold on to?

It’s better to leave now. While they’re still wrapped up in their happy little bubble. I’ll take whatever dignity I have left, pack up my broken dreams, and slip away quietly from this place that’s hurt me so much.

At least at Royal Ballet School, I can start fresh. No one there knows my past. No one will judge me. I can create something new and better and finally prove myself.

This time, I’ll keep everything—every shred of evidence—safe. No one will ever get the chance to take me down again.

After I hung up with my aunt, I found myself sitting in the rehearsal room, staring blankly.

This space held so many pieces of me.

The photos on the wall? They captured every milestone. The trophies in the corner? Proof of how far I’d come. And the costumes in the closet? Each one carried a memory.

I walked to the mirror and stared at my reflection.

My black training outfit is faded now. It used to be my favorite. I still remember the day I bought it—Ulysses was there with me, helping me pick it out.

Chapter 8

“This looks perfect on you,” he said, adjusting my collar. “When you’re standing on a big stage someday, you’ve got to wear the most stunning costume.”

I was 13 back then, full of dreams about the future.

I really thought that as long as I worked hard enough, those dreams would come true.

But now? All those hopeful expectations have completely fallen apart.

I started packing my clothes, one piece at a time.

I hesitated when I got to the costume Ginger had accused me of plagiarizing. I stared at it for a long time before deciding to take it.

I’d poured my heart and soul into that design. Even if I couldn’t clear my name right now, I wasn’t going to leave it behind.

Halfway through packing, I suddenly remembered my notebook.

That notebook held everything—the entire process of creating the choreography, from brainstorming to the final touches. Sketches, notes, revisions… everything was in there. If I could find it, maybe I’d still have a chance to prove myself.

I tore through the rehearsal room, searching every corner, then went back to my bedroom to look again.

But no matter where I checked, the notebook was gone.

Right then, Ginger walked in, casually pushing the door open.

“Looking for something?” she asked.

I looked up and met her half-smiling eyes and smirk. And in that instant, I knew.

“You took my notebook, didn’t you?”

“Notebook?” She tilted her head like she was trying to remember. “Oh, you mean that little book full of doodles?”

“Give it back to me,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

She laughed softly. “Sorry, it’s already been taken care of. I mean, what’s the point of keeping a plagiarist’s work, right?”

My hands started shaking. “How could you? That notebook was my blood, sweat, and tears!”

“Your blood, sweat, and tears?” She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Darcey, do you really think you can make a comeback? Even if you had that notebook, who’s going to believe you?”

I stared at her smug face and felt a wave of hopelessness hit me. She wasn’t wrong. In this industry, she had all the connections, all the power. And me? I was just an adopted orphan. Even if I screamed the truth until I lost my voice, who’d take my side?

Then my phone buzzed.

It was an email from Royal Ballet School, reminding me to complete the admission procedures as soon as possible.

Somehow, looking at that familiar logo made me calm down.

Right, I still have Royal Ballet School. I still had a fresh start waiting for me.

“You’re right,” I said, looking her straight in the eye. “Everything here is yours now.”

She obviously didn't expect me to say that and was stunned for a moment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m leaving,” I said simply, turning back to pack. “Leaving this villa. Leaving this city.”

“Leaving?” She let out a laugh. “You think running away will make people forget you’re a plagiarist?”

I stopped packing and looked at her.

“I’m not running. I’m letting go. Letting go of these years of obsession, letting go of feelings I shouldn’t have had, and letting go of the pain you caused.”

Her smile froze. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’ve always been paranoid about me and Ulysses, haven’t you?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Well, don’t worry. You’ll never see me in your life again.”

As soon as I said it, I felt this weight lift off my chest.

Right. If staying here only brought me more pain, why not just let it all go?

I went back to packing, carefully organizing every scrap of evidence that might prove my innocence someday.

Even if it was useless now, the truth would come out eventually.

Ginger opened her mouth to say something else, but before she could, I heard Ulysses’s voice downstairs.

She immediately snapped into her sweet, doting act and ran off to greet him.

I heard her voice drifting up from the stairs.

“Darling, you’re finally back!”

Chapter 9

Then he gently asked, “Hmm, are you tired today?”

They’re such a perfect couple. They’re really meant to be, and I, from the very beginning, have always been the outsider.

I opened my laptop and started booking my flight. My aunt had already taken care of everything, and in three days, I’d be on my way.

Once everything was packed up, I stood in the center of the rehearsal room, and for the last time, I performed that dance they all thought I plagiarized.

No music, just me and my reflection in the mirror.

I moved slowly through each step like I was pouring all the sweet, sour, and bitter moments of these years into every movement.

After finishing the final step, I took a deep bow. That bow wasn’t just for the past—it was a goodbye and a hope for what’s next.

With less than a week before I left, I started sorting through the things I needed to sell.

To make some extra cash, I applied for a part-time teaching gig at a nearby ballet dance academy three months ago.

“Your fundamentals are awesome,” the instructor said after watching me demonstrate. “When can you start teaching?”

“Anytime,” I told her.

So, just like that, I started my nine-to-five teaching schedule. Mostly basic classes, with kids and teens as my students.

Watching them practice so earnestly, I saw a glimpse of my younger self.

Sometimes, I’d come across kids who truly loved dancing. The pure passion in their eyes reminded me of how I’d felt when I first started dancing—so simple, so pure, untainted by anything else.

After the academy closed in the evenings, I’d stay behind to practice by myself. I’d turn off the main lights and leave only the spotlight on. In that soft glow, I’d choreograph a new routine.

It was a dance about farewells. No fancy moves, just the most basic steps. But every step was filled with my emotions, a reflection of everything I’d been through over the years.

Sometimes, I practiced until late into the night. The entire building would be silent, with only the sound of music and my footsteps echoing in the empty studio.

One night, though, I ran into Ulysses at the convenience store downstairs from the studio.

He was standing by the door, looking tired. “Still practicing this late?” he asked.

I stopped and walked over to wipe the sweat off my face. “Yeah, I’m about to head out.”

“Go home. It’s late, and it’s not safe,” he said.

I kept my head down. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I haven’t seen you at home lately.”

“I got a job outside,” I replied.

“Money’s tight?” he asked.

I looked up and met his concerned gaze, feeling a sudden wave of bitterness in my chest. “No, I just want to make a bit more.”

He pulled out his wallet. “If you need anything, I can—”

“No, it’s fine,” I interrupted. “I can handle it myself.”

After that, I grabbed my bag and prepared to leave. As I walked past him, he suddenly said, “I’m sorry.”

I paused, my steps faltering. “Why are you apologizing?”

“About the competition…” he started.

“You don’t have to say anything,” I cut him off, forcing a bitter smile. “It’s all in the past now.”

He seemed like he wanted to say more, but his phone rang. It was Ginger calling. I took that chance to leave quickly, afraid that if I stayed a second longer, I wouldn’t be able to control my emotions.

Back home, I continued sorting through the things I needed to sell.

When I opened one of the boxes, I froze. Inside were the gifts Ulysses had given me over the years: the ballet shoes for my 14th birthday, the necklace for my 16th, the watch for my 17th…

Each one carried a special memory. I remembered the look on his face when he gave me these gifts. I remembered every word he’d said.

Chapter 10

Now, all of it—those things and those memories—is going to be buried by me.

Over the years, Ulysses gave me so much. Designer bags, limited-edition sneakers, luxury watches—each one expensive. I listed them all on a secondhand marketplace, slashing the prices by half.

“They’re useless to me now,” I told my reflection, trying to sound convincing. “It’s not like I’ll ever get gifts like these again anyway.”

Soon, a buyer started reaching out. They wanted to know why I was selling them so cheaply. I just said I needed the money. But honestly, I just wanted that stuff gone. It felt like if I got rid of the things, I could get rid of the feelings, too—the ones I shouldn’t have had in the first place.

Late that night, I heard a car engine outside.

When I looked out the window, there they were—Ulysses and Ginger coming home together. They were talking and laughing. It was the kind of warmth that could shatter you if you let it.

I shut the curtains, shoved on my headphones, and went back to practicing my farewell ballet dance. The music drowned out their voices—and muffled the sound of me crying.

When I couldn’t move anymore, I lay flat on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. Just a week left before I leave. I had to perfect this dance. It’s my last one here, my way of closing the chapter.

My phone buzzed—it was one of the buyers asking about the stuff I listed. I replied to each message and set up the transactions for tomorrow. Once all of that’s done, I’ll be completely free of it all.

Or at least that’s what I kept telling myself.

Another late night found me in front of the rehearsal room mirror, going over the moves again and again. My clothes were soaked through with sweat, but I didn’t want to stop.

Stopping meant letting it all hit me—the pain, the anger, the sadness. Instead, I poured everything into the dance. Let the music carry it all away.

That’s how I’m saying goodbye. One last dance to leave behind this state, this villa, and the man I loved for so many years.

And he’ll never know how much of my words are behind this dance.

The day before I was set to leave was my 18th birthday.

Every other year, Ulysses would take the day off to celebrate with me.

We’d go to the amusement park, eat way too much ice cream, and make wishes under the night sky.

But this year? Different story.

When I woke up, I got a text from him.

[Gotta take Ginger to try on wedding dresses today. We’ll celebrate your birthday another time. Sorry.]

I stared at the message until my eyes started to sting.

I should’ve seen it coming. Their wedding’s next month, and of course, they’re busy.

I went downstairs, and the dining table was empty.

Usually, by this time, he’d have breakfast ready for me. Smiley-face eggs, little bear-shaped toast—my favorite.

But today, I poured myself a glass of milk and bit into some plain bread.

Then the housekeeper walked up with a cake box in her hands. “Miss, Madam had this ordered for you.”

I looked at the fancy box and let out a laugh. So, someone in this villa still remembered my birthday.

Inside was a simple cream cake. On top, in chocolate, it said: [Happy 18th Birthday!]

I sat at the table, staring at it.

Eighteen. Legally an adult. But I’d never felt more fragile in my life.

My phone buzzed again. It was a text from Aunt Petunia.

[Happy birthday, sweetie. Ready to leave?]

I sent back a smiley face and started packing.

I’d already made my decision. No point lingering any longer.

Chapter 11

I pulled out a check and carefully started writing down every penny the d'Amboises had spent on me over the years—tuition, living expenses, medical bills.

I made sure every number was crystal clear. All the money I earned from selling my things and working part-time jobs was just enough to cover the debt.

Then I started writing the letter.

[My dear brother,

By the time you’re reading this, I’ll already be on a plane to London.

Thank you for everything—taking care of me, giving me a home, teaching me so much. I’m grateful for all of it.

I’m sorry I let you down.

I shouldn’t have felt the way I did about you. I shouldn’t have intruded on your life again and again.

But now I understand—some paths just lead nowhere, and some things are better left unsaid.

I need a fresh start, somewhere no one knows who I am, somewhere I can finally be myself.

I’ve included a check to cover everything you and your family have spent on me over the years. It’s not much, but it’s the least I can do.

I wish you and Ginger a happy marriage.

Darcey Lynn]

By the time I finished, my tears had smudged the ink. I wiped my face hard, folded the letter, slipped it into an envelope along with the check, and sealed it.

And then… I don’t know what came over me, but I grabbed another sheet of paper and started a second letter.

[Ulysses,

This is the first—and the last—time I’ll call you by your name.

Do you remember the first time I called you my brother? You said you’d protect me forever. I was so happy back then, so sure those days would never end.

But somewhere along the way, my feelings changed. I started to crave your kindness, to look forward to every second we spent together, to feel my heart race every time you were near.

I know it was wrong. You’re my foster brother, my family. I wasn’t supposed to feel this way about you. But feelings aren’t something I can control.

When I was 15, I told you how I felt. You said I was too young to understand love. But Ulysses, I wasn’t just some clueless kid. I meant every word.

Looking back now, maybe this love was doomed from the start. From the day I stepped into this villa, it was always going to be impossible. There’s too much standing between us—social status, age, ethics…]

I stopped writing right there.

It was too much. Too honest. Putting it into words would only make things harder for him.

So, I tore the letter into pieces and threw it in the trash. Some words are better left rotten in my heart forever.

The room was dark now. I sat there, alone, staring at the untouched birthday cake in front of me.

In the past years, he’d always pull out a gift like magic, grinning while I unwrapped it.

I lit the candles, watching their glow flicker in the dark. My wish for my 18th birthday? I thought about it for a long time.

Finally, I whispered, “I hope one day I can really let you go.”

Then, I blew out the candles.

The tears came fast, but this time, I let them. I didn’t care anymore.

This would be my last birthday in this villa.

Starting tomorrow, I’d begin the process of forgetting.

I’d forget the warmth, the sweetness, and even this ache in my chest.

I finished packing, and then I gave my room—my home for the past eight years—one last look.

The photos on the walls, the ornaments on the desk, and the clothes in the closet—every little thing held a memory.

But it was time to say goodbye.

Tomorrow morning, I’d leave, taking my dreams and my heartbreak with me, to start over somewhere brand new.

Chapter 12

At that moment, I am no longer the d'Amboises’s adopted daughter anymore. I am no longer that foolish girl chasing impossible dreams.

I am just Darcey Lynn—a dancer with her own dreams to follow.

And that’s enough.

It was five in the morning when I quietly opened my bedroom door.

The whole villa was still dark, except for the faint clatter coming from the kitchen where the staff were starting breakfast.

I tiptoed down the stairs, luggage in hand, careful not to make a sound.

In the living room, the glass cabinet stood exactly as it always had, filled with all the ballet dancing trophies I’d earned over the years.

From the first bronze medal I won as a kid to last year’s YAGP gold medal, each trophy was a part of my growth.

I took a moment to wipe them clean one last time, arranging them in the order I’d won them.

They were my only contribution to this family. The only way I could repay the d'Amboises for raising me.

When I turned to leave, my eyes caught the family photo hanging on the wall.

We were all smiling so brightly in it, so happy. Who would’ve thought it’d end like this?

I reached into my luggage and pulled out a photo album. It held every picture I’d taken with Ulysses over the years.

The first photo was from when I was 10.

It was the year I’d joined the d'Amboises, and in the picture, I was shyly hiding behind him. He’d crouched down to my level, gently patting my head.

“Don’t be scared,” he’d said, “I’m here. Your bother.”

That simple promise had meant everything to me back then. Now it was just another bittersweet memory.

I flipped through the pages, each photo holding a piece of our past.

There was the one from my 12th birthday, when he took me to the amusement park, and we snapped a picture by the carousel.

And the one from when I was 14—he’d taken the day off to cheer me on at a dance competition. That picture was from the award ceremony.

Then there was that winter when I was 16. We’d built a snowman together, and his scarf was covered in snowflakes…

The last photo was from last Christmas Eve.

Back then, we were inseparable. Who’d have thought a year later we’d be strangers living in separate worlds?

I set the album on the coffee table and placed a letter beside it.

Inside was a check and one simple sentence.

[Thank you for giving me a home.]

The large mirror in the living room—the one I always used for dance practice—caught my reflection. My pale face reflected on it.

I straightened my clothes and tried to smile at myself.

“Goodbye, Darcey Lynn,” I whispered. “Starting today, you’ve got to be strong.”

Just then, I heard a noise upstairs. Probably Ulysses getting up.

I grabbed my luggage and headed for the door, but I stopped in front of the shoe cabinet.

There was a small box sitting there—his wedding gift.

It was a pair of handmade cufflinks, engraved with the Château de Versailles, his favorite building.

I’d planned to give them to him on his wedding day, but now that wasn’t going to happen.

I placed the box on the cabinet and turned back to take one last look at the villa I’d lived in for eight years.

Every corner was filled with memories. The dining room still had my favorite set of dishes. My dance textbooks were still on the study’s bookshelf. The swing in the yard swayed gently in the early morning breeze.

For a second, I wanted to go upstairs and see him one last time. Just from a distance.

But I knew if I did, I might not have the courage to leave.

Finally, I took a deep breath and stepped outside. The morning air was cold, and I wrapped my coat tighter around me, dragging my luggage toward the gate.

A cab was parked at the curb—the one I’d booked last night.

The driver saw me and quickly got out to help with my luggage.

“To the airport,” I said.

The car started slowly, and I caught one last glimpse of the villa in the rearview mirror. I watched as it faded farther and farther away.

In the soft morning light, it looked so quiet, so peaceful—just like the first time I saw it eight years ago.

Back then, I thought this place would be my forever home. I thought Ulysses would be my forever. But time has a way of proving how wrong you can be.

The car turned a corner, and the villa finally disappeared from my sight. I closed my eyes, and tears slipped silently down my face.

The cab moved steadily forward, carrying me toward a future I couldn’t see.

Behind me, that home, that man, and all the love I couldn’t even admit to myself—it was all staying here, locked in the soft glow of this city’s morning light.

And that’s that.

It’s time to say goodbye.

Forever.