Back to Dance, Back to Life

Ashton's POV

On my wedding day, my fiancée dumped me right at the altar, then walked down the aisle hand in hand with my best friend.

Heart shattered and mind blank, I stumbled out of the hall, only to get hit by a car moments later. When I woke up, I was paralyzed. My dream of becoming a dancer vanished overnight.

In my darkest moment, when I was about to throw myself into the river, it was my friend’s aunt, Seraphina Montague, who pulled me back.

She then announced to the world that she loved me and even held a grand wedding, making me her husband.

But on our third anniversary, I overheard her talking to her assistant.

“Same routine as before,” she said coldly. “Tell the doctor to switch his medicine to vitamins. And cancel the rehab sessions, find an excuse.”

The assistant hesitated. “But, Ma'am, the doctor said if we keep delaying his treatment, he might never walk again.”

Then came a pause, and something that froze my blood.

“You’ve already achieved what you wanted for Mr. Montague,” the assistant said quietly. “You had someone run Mr. Chandler over on purpose, just so he couldn’t dance again. Now that Mr. Montague’s the lead dancer and his wife’s family adores him, do you still need to keep Mr. Chandler crippled?”

“Stop talking nonsense,” Seraphina snapped. “If he can’t stand, then he can’t stand. It’s not like I can’t afford to take care of him for the rest of his life.”

Then her tone softened—sorrowful, almost wistful. “If society says I can’t be with Christian, then I’ll protect him from afar. I’ll make sure nothing ever threatens his happiness.”

——

My hand flew to my mouth. I staggered back, trying not to scream.

It couldn't sink into me that my accident and my so-called salvation had all been part of her plan.

Tears blurred my vision, and my chest ached so badly it felt like it would split open.

When I heard footsteps from the corridor, I quickly spun my wheelchair around and hurried toward the backyard.

That was when I noticed that Seraphina’s storage room, the one she never let anyone near, was slightly open.

Curiosity pushed me inside.

There, I saw that every wall was covered with photos and paintings of Christian Montague from his childhood to now. His dance trophies and medals gleamed under the lights, his worn-out dance shoes and costumes carefully preserved behind glass.

Every inch of the room screamed her obsession.

In the middle of the room lay a foster certificate revealing the truth.

It turned out that Seraphina had only been adopted by Christian’s grandfather when she was a teenager. They weren’t related by blood at all.

I laughed through my tears. “Seraphina, you really fooled me, didn’t you?”

If this was all an act, then fine, let me return the stage to them.

I wiped my tears, composed myself, and turned to leave. But as I reached the garden path, she appeared.

“Ashton,” she called, startled. “What are you doing here? You didn’t see anything, did you?”

I forced a calm smile. “No. I just got lost. It’s been a while since I came out to the garden.”

She let out a sigh of relief, crouched down, and ruffled my hair gently. “Silly boy. You’re getting more absent-minded as you grow older. Come on, everyone’s waiting. Let’s go celebrate our anniversary.”

Her warm lips then brushed my forehead, but all I felt was an icy chill sinking into my bones.

When we entered the banquet hall, the guests all looked at us with admiration, envying her devotion to a crippled husband.

But my eyes locked onto the three-tiered strawberry cream cake in the center of the table.

I was severely lactose intolerant, and strawberries were Christian’s favorite.

As soon as Seraphina seated me at the main table, Christian came bounding over with a grin, grabbing her arm playfully.

“Auntie! When can we cut the cake? It's your and Ashton’s anniversary, and you chose my favorite flavor? That’s cheating!”

Seraphina just laughed softly and tapped his nose with her finger, utterly unashamed.