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.

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.

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.