The Fiancé's Treachery: A Dancer's Vengeance

ancé, Connor, were the two peo

red thugs to attack me, leaving me paralyzed from the

d them confess it was all f

estrated a public scandal to ruin my name,

in a yacht explosion, choosin

they sacrificed me on the altar of

troy them all. Now, I've returned, pretending to be a long-lost twin with amnesia. They

pte

Thom

re the two people in the world I trusted most.

d unforgiving, connected with my spine. The world fractured int

tence. The first thing I registered was the dead weight where my legs should be. Two lifeless appendages, no longer th

lyzed. From the w

blow to my head had severed a nerve. My left ear was a hollow shell, filled with a constant, high-pitched ringing. Deafness. Permanent. And then the final indignit

l Thomas, the dancer, was over. Shattered in

irst saw me. He slammed his fist against the wall, his knuckles splitting open. "W

at mirrored my own. He whispered promises of a future, a different one, but a future nonetheless. He would take care of m

the truth, when it came, feel like be

I pretended to be asleep, the exhaustion too profound for real rest. Douglas and Connor were in the hallway, their voices low,

, his voice tight with anxiety. "She's not st

e, confident. "She thinks it was a random muggin

ep into my veins. I held my breath, my he

upposed to scare her, make her miss the audition. Not... this. Her l

eart monitor, my own heartbeat, the rai

voice hard, impatient. "The guys we hire

words echoed in the

s voice rising. "We arranged it. We paid t

s

orphan our family had taken in, the girl who lived in my

verything her whole life. The money, the lessons, the opportunities. One little setback wouldn't have killed her. It was supposed

ts" I'd received before the audition. Douglas's insistence that I take a different, darker route home from the stu

A beautifully orche

per now, thick with a self-pity that made my stomach

ty, Connor, has always been to each other first. You're my

than life itself. My protective older brother, who had taught me to ride a bike and promised to pu

p on a platter. Sacr

em. But no sound came out. My throat was a knot of grief and betrayal, so

he icy water of their confession washed ove

ss, a flower grown in a greenhouse, too delicate and naive fo

they were the ones I n

teddy bear. Her parents, my aunt and uncle, had died in a car crash. My heart had broken for h

. My dance shoes mysteriously vanishing right before a competition, only to be found in the trash, with Isla suggesting a jealous rival was to blame. My diary, fi

s been through so much, April," they'd say. "Be a little mo

hours coaching her, sharing the secrets I had bled for. But her talent was mediocre, her spirit lacking. Yet, she started getting opportunities t

g crazy. I thought I

It wasn't me. It was never me. My talent wasn't a gift; it was an obstacle

stone. A sacrifice on the altar of their mi

ly? The words were meaning

uture. No hope. Just a broken body and a shattered heart. The remote for the morphine drip was on the bedside table.

for it. My fingers brushed a

e

buzzed. A number I didn't recognize. I ignored it. It buzzed again. And again. A

y voice wa

steel, answered. "April Thomas. I'm glad I c

oice flat. "If you're a repo

use. "Let's call me a... benefactor

l? What could you possibly offer me? A cure for

ical treatment. Experimental nerve regeneration therapy in a private facility in Sw

had stopped feeling anyt

he resources for something else. Something I suspect

nuckles white as I

ve you the power to destroy the people who did this to you. Your brother. Your fiancé. The

was impossible. A pran

d. "Why would you

nd. But more than that, I saw you dance once, Miss Thomas. At the Lincoln Center gala. You were magnificent. A talent

r hand. The button that promised oblivion. The

hoi

path down my cheek. "

e was devoid of warmth, yet it held t

," he

re for death was burned away

mote fall fr

but it was the stronges

es