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.

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.

“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!”