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?”