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.

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.

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.