“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.