MICHELL POV Audrey didn’t notice me at first. She was too focused on the call, her phone pressed tightly against her ear even though it was loud enough for anyone to hear her conversation. I hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but the second I heard the voice on the other end—sharp, cold, and uninterested—I knew I wasn’t walking away. Her voice had started out steady. Cautious. And then, piece by piece, I heard it crumble. I hadn’t meant to listen. But the moment I heard her mother’s voice—cold, distant, almost bored—I couldn’t walk away. Then she told her about the divorce. And the woman laughed. Ms. Taylor had curled into herself, like she was trying to make herself smaller, like she wasn’t sure she was even allowed to take up space. And I knew, then. This wasn’t the first time. This wasn’t new. This was just another wound from a lifetime of them. I had never wanted to be wrong about something so badly in my life. But I wasn’t. The conversation kept going. She told
. AUDREY POV. The room was colder than I expected. Not just because of the air conditioning, humming softly in the background, but because of everything. The walls, the equipment, the chair where I sat, my hands gripping the armrests just a little too tightly. I kept my arms crossed as I sat on the examination table, my fingers pressing into my skin, trying to hold myself together. The room smelled like antiseptic and faintly of lavender—probably something they used to mask the sterility of the place. It was quiet. Too quiet. The way the physician spoke like this was just another routine case. Like it wasn’t my life he was talking about. Like it wasn’t my body that had to be opened up and put back together. “You’ll need surgery.” I heard the words. Understood them. But they didn’t sink in right away. It was like hearing something underwater—muffled, distant, unreal. I should have expected it. The pain never really went away, no matter how much I ignored it. Some day
MICHELL POV. I stood outside the MRI room, arms crossed, watching through the glass as the machine whirred to life. Audrey lay on the table, perfectly still, but I caught the slight tension in her hands, the way her fingers curled just a little too tightly against the fabric of the hospital gown. The doctor had asked me to step outside before beginning the scan—not that I had argued. I wasn’t about to interfere. Still, I didn’t like standing here. Didn’t like watching without being able to do anything. I glanced at the physician, who was focused on the monitors, reading the images as they appeared on the screen. His expression remained neutral, unreadable. I had seen enough medical professionals to know that meant nothing. The rhythmic thunk-thunk-thunk of the MRI filled the silence, and I shifted slightly, resisting the urge to speak. To ask. To demand an answer now. The moment the call came through, I knew something was wrong. My assistant’s voice was tight, uneasy
Audrey pov The rhythmic clunking of the MRI machine had finally stopped, and Dr. Myers helped me out, guiding me back to sit on the examination bed. My legs felt stiff, but I managed to keep my expression neutral. I’d gotten too good at hiding discomfort over the years. The scan was done. That was the first step. Dr. Myers studied the images on his monitor, his face unreadable. My fingers curled around the edge of the bed, heart pounding slightly. I had been told before that there was no solution. What if that hadn’t changed? The doubt crept back into me. I had learned that he was the best. Why doubt then? He turned to me. “The results are clear. Surgery is the next step—and the sooner, the better.” A strange mix of relief and fear settled in my chest. Relief that something could be done. Fear because I had never allowed myself to hope for this. Before I could respond, the door opened, and Mr. Garcia walked in. The moment I saw him, I knew something was wrong. His u
AUDREY POV Today was moving day. A wave of nerves washed over me. I wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if I was leaving the estate—just relocating to a different part of it. But something about this change felt… significant. I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes just as the door opened slightly. A housekeeper peeked in. “Ms. Taylor,” she said politely. “Mr. Garcia has asked for you to have breakfast before we move your things.” Right. Of course he did. Because of course Mr. Michell Garcia would think of something like that. I nodded. “I’ll be down soon.” The housekeeper disappeared, and I took a deep breath before swinging my legs over the side of the bed. As soon as my foot touched the floor, a dull ache ran up my injured leg. I winced but ignored it. I was used to this. I got ready quickly, slipping into a comfortable dress and brushing my hair back into a simple ponytail. Then, I made my way downstairs. The dining room was quiet when I entered. Amelia had gone to
AUDREY POV. When I got home, I headed straight to the new room I’d been given. It was bigger than I expected. Spacious. Modern. Luxurious, but not in an overwhelming way. It was definitely closer to the surgery quarters, just like Mr. Garcia had said. A long hallway connected this side of the estate to the medical wing, making it clear that this space had been designed for convenience. I sat on the edge of the plush bed, letting my fingers sink into the silk duvet. The entire estate had been impressive from the start, but now that I was actually staying in a different part of it, I couldn't help but wonder—just how rich was Mr. Garcia? A personal hospital? A private swimming pool? A gym that was probably better equipped than most professional ones? A literal movie theater inside the house? I hadn’t even seen everything yet, and I was already convinced his wealth was on another level. And yet, despite all of this, there was something strange about the estate. Something… m
MICHELL POV I flipped through the contract in front of me, scanning the details with sharp precision. The numbers were solid. The projections were favorable. But there was something—one thing—that felt off. I tapped my fingers against my desk, my other hand holding the contract open. “Page seventeen,” I said flatly. Across from me, Ethan, my head of acquisitions, looked up from his own copy. “What about it?” I exhaled sharply, irritated. “The clause about equity distribution. It’s not aligned with our standard agreements.” Ethan blinked, flipping to the page. He skimmed it, then frowned. “Huh. I didn’t catch that.” Of course, he didn’t. I didn’t respond, just leaned back in my chair, tapping my pen against the desk. The moment stretched long and silent before Ethan finally sighed. “I’ll have them revise it,” he muttered. I nodded once. “Make it fast.” He stood, gathering his papers. “Anything else?” “Yes. The Merado shipment. Have we received confirmation on the
AUDREY POV Pain. It came in waves, sharp and pulsing, radiating from my leg like a cruel reminder of my own recklessness. I should have known better. Should have stopped when I first felt the strain. But I hadn’t. Now, standing with Mr. Garcia’s hand still gripping mine, the pain wasn’t the only thing I felt. There was something else. Something heavier. Something I didn’t want to name. His face had been cold, sharp as a blade when he stormed into the ballroom. His voice—deep, commanding—had cut through the space like a whip. But beneath the anger, beneath the frustration, I had caught something else. Something like… worry. Why? Why had he looked at me like that? Why had he sounded like that? I tried to brush it off as simple annoyance—of course, he’d be mad. I was Amelia’s nanny, not her dance instructor. I was supposed to be recovering, not pushing my limits. I had no right to be reckless, especially under his roof. And yet… His anger had felt too raw. Too
AUDREY POVThe five of us stood side by side on the stage, our breaths shallow, our hearts racing. The lights were blinding, heating my skin, but nothing compared to the pounding of my chest. The murmurs of the audience were a distant hum in my ears. All I could focus on was the panel of judges in front of us, their expressions unreadable as they looked down at the results in their hands. I clenched my fists to keep them from shaking. The lead judge, a distinguished man with graying temples and sharp, observant eyes, leaned into the microphone. His voice, smooth but authoritative, filled the silence. “Before we announce the results, we want to take a moment to acknowledge each of you. What you’ve accomplished here is beyond commendable. This stage is not for the weak-hearted, and every single one of you has proven why you deserve to be here. Winning or not, this is only the beginning.”The words should have comforted me, but all they did was tighten the coil of tension in my st
AUDREY POVThe air inside the practice room was thick with focus, each contestant absorbed in their own world of preparation. The faint echo of footsteps, the occasional murmurs of dance instructors correcting postures, the sharp exhale of a dancer landing a difficult move—it all blended together in a quiet symphony of tension. I rolled my shoulders and took a deep breath, stretching my legs as I prepared my body for what lay ahead.My mind was clear. No more overthinking. No more obsessing over Gina. Just me, my body, and the dance. Elena stood nearby, arms crossed, her sharp gaze watching my every movement. “How do you feel?” she asked. I exhaled, feeling the steadiness in my bones. “Good.” She nodded. “Then hold onto that.” I continued my warm-up, rolling through my ankles, stretching out my arms, steadying my breath. No excessive training. No pushing beyond my limit. Just enough to keep me grounded. Then, I felt it—the shift in energy, the presence approaching me befo
AUDREY POVI couldn’t breathe. The moment my name was called as the fifth contestant, relief flooded me, but it was short-lived. I barely made it. From second place to fifth. The humiliation burned in my chest, and I could feel the weight of it pressing down on me. I had messed up. Completely. Even when I tried to redeem myself on stage, it was useless. My body had refused to cooperate, my movements stiff, my mind fogged with frustration. And now, I stood here, barely holding on to a spot in the final round. The judges’ words still echoed in my head. “You were second last time, Miss Taylor. What happened? Are you alright?”“We can only hope you come back stronger in two days.”Two days. That was all I had to fix everything. But what was I even fixing? I had trained tirelessly, pushed myself beyond my limits, yet I still failed. What more could I possibly do? I could feel eyes on me as we were dismissed, but I didn't stop to look at anyone. My feet carried me to the dressin
AUDREY POVI exhaled slowly, my fingers gripping the edge of my seat as the announcer’s voice filled the hall again. “Contestant number7, Maya Roberts.”Maya, a tall, dark-haired girl with striking green eyes, stepped onto the stage with an air of quiet confidence. Her instructor whispered something to her before she nodded and took her position. The music began, slow and haunting, and Maya moved like water—smooth, controlled, every motion blending into the next without hesitation. She had an effortless grace, the kind that made it look easy, though I knew it wasn’t. I studied her carefully. Her lines were impeccable, her spins sharp but elegant. The way she floated across the stage made it clear she had years of discipline in her body. She wasn’t just good—she was mesmerizing. Elena leaned in slightly. “She has excellent control,” she murmured, “but her expressions are lacking. She’s focusing too much on technique, not enough on storytelling.” I nodded, noting how Maya’s
MICHELL POVI leaned back on the couch, a book in my hands, but I wasn’t reading. The words blurred together, meaningless against the backdrop of laughter filling the room. They all came back to the living area. Amelia was perched on his lap, giggling uncontrollably as he tickled her sides. Audrey sat beside them, curled up comfortably, her eyes bright with amusement. They looked like a picture of easy familiarity. And I didn’t know what to make of it. Audrey had grown attached to him—maybe too attached. I wasn’t surprised. Ethan had a way of making himself welcome in people’s lives, slipping in like he belonged there.And somehow, over the past few days, he had done just that. He had visited four days ago, and since then, I’d caught them talking more, laughing more. It shouldn’t bother me. But it did. Not surprisingly, I was jealous. Ethan grinned at Audrey. “So, how’s training going, superstar?” Audrey rolled her eyes at the nickname, but there was a smile tugging at
AUDREY POVA week and six days.The exhaustion seeped into my bones, a dull ache spreading through my muscles as I sank onto the couch. My breath came in slow, measured exhales, my body heavy from another brutal training session. I wouldn’t lie—I had pushed myself beyond my limits these past days. I had forced Elena to teach me every move she could recall, determined to absorb every ounce of technique I had seen Gina execute. It wasn’t enough for me to match her—I had to surpass her. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I would prove it. I pressed my fingers to my temple, my body screaming for rest, but before I could surrender to the exhaustion, I heard footsteps. Michell. He walked in, his presence as sharp and commanding as ever, but there was something different in his eyes when they met mine—something unreadable, yet piercing.Without a word, he sat beside me. The space between us felt small, charged. Then, in a low, measured voice, he spoke. “I got a report from Mrs. Vasquez toda
AUDREY POVAs soon as Michell walked out the door, the air in the room shifted. It was subtle—like the lingering warmth from a fire that had just been extinguished. I let out a breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding, my fingers curling around my cup. “Don’t just focus on outshining her. Focus on being better than you were yesterday.”His words echoed in my mind, sinking deeper than I expected them to. I wasn’t intimidated by Gina. …Was I? I stared at the smooth surface of my coffee, watching the faint ripples from where I had stirred it earlier. I had worked so hard to get here. I had clawed my way through pain, rejection, and doubt. I had sacrificed everything to dance. And yet— I could still hear the way Gina’s name was whispered through the crowd last night. The way their eyes followed her, expectant. The way she moved, like she knew she belonged on that stage. I gritted my teeth. No. I wouldn’t let self-doubt creep in. Not now. I pushed my chair back,
MICHELL POVI shut the door behind me, locking out the world. I could feel the heat of the call against my chest before I even answered.Private Number.The only calls I received from a private number were from one person—the investigator I had hired.I exhaled sharply, then finally pressed the phone to my ear. “Talk.”The investigator didn’t waste time. “I got into the accident records like you asked.” His voice was low, deliberate. “And you were right.”My fingers curled around the edge of my desk.“The official report claimed it was a brake failure,” he continued. “The car lost control, spun off the road, and crashed into the ravine. But here’s the thing—there was no real investigation. Everything was rushed. Too clean. Too perfect.”My throat felt tight.I had read that report a hundred times. Had memorized every line.Faulty brakes. Instant impact. No survivors.But I never believed it. Not for a second.“Go on.”There was a pause, like he was choosing his words carefully. “There
AUDREY POV.Victor was gone. I stood still, my fingers tracing the smooth edges of the photograph he had given me. It was perfect. A frozen moment in time—my body suspended mid-air, arms outstretched, strength and grace woven into a single movement. My throat tightened. Victor had always been unreadable, distant in ways I couldn’t quite decipher, but this… this was thoughtful. Meaningful. A part of me wanted to hold onto that moment, but I could feel their stares—Lisa’s expectant smirk, Amelia’s bubbling excitement, Michell’s unreadable yet intense gaze. And Ethan… I swallowed, my fingers curling slightly around the picture before tucking it away. Trevor suddenly clapped his hands together, breaking the silence. “Alright, now that we’ve had our sentimental moment—food? Because I’m starving.” Lisa rolled her eyes. “You’re always starving.” He grinned. “Yeah, and?” A small chuckle slipped past my lips despite everything. The tension eased just a little, the moment bec