As the upcoming tour approached, the dance troupe suddenly revoked my position as the lead dancer.

Anxious to get an explanation in person, I lost my footing due to my distracted state and tumbled down the stairs.

While enduring the sharp pain and preparing to call for emergency services, a notification popped up on my phone screen:

“Redwood Dance Troupe: Welcome our new lead dancer, Averil Wells, and our generous sponsor, Julian Ford."

The accompanying photo featured two smiling faces—my husband of seven years, whom I had secretly married, and his pampered mistress.

Julian had his arm wrapped around Averil's waist as he placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. Meanwhile, Averil clung to Julian's neck, her face radiating shyness and delight.

As the upcoming tour approached, the dance troupe suddenly revoked my position as the lead dancer.

Anxious to get an explanation in person, I lost my footing due to my distracted state and tumbled down the stairs.

While enduring the sharp pain and preparing to call for emergency services, a notification popped up on my phone screen:

“Redwood Dance Troupe: Welcome our new lead dancer, Averil Wells, and our generous sponsor, Julian Ford."

The accompanying photo featured two smiling faces—my husband of seven years, whom I had secretly married, and his pampered mistress.

Julian had his arm wrapped around Averil's waist as he placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. Meanwhile, Averil clung to Julian's neck, her face radiating shyness and delight.

I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and posted a photo of our marriage certificate in the comments section:

"Is your troupe’s new production called the Union of Bastards?"

Before long, Julian called me.

"Victoria Dean, what stupid thing are you doing now? How many times do I have to tell you that Averil and I are just putting on a show."

I sniffled. "Julian, what gives you the right to take away my lead dancer role?"

There was a brief silence on the other end. "Are you part of Redwood?"

After a pause, he added nonchalantly, "Averil wanted the lead role in this tour as her birthday gift. I didn’t realize that role was yours. Go online and clarify immediately. Tell everyone that the marriage certificate was doctored."

I found it laughable.

He didn’t even know where I worked but remembered Averil’s birthday gift request.

"And then? Why would I fake a marriage certificate?"

Julian replied calmly, "You can say you’re just a fan of mine."

"Julian Ford, what do you take me for?"

He sighed softly on the other end. "Victoria, we’ve been married for seven years. We’re practically an old married couple. Averil is young; there’s no need to compete with her."

He must have forgotten that I married him before finishing college. Though we’d been married for seven years, I was only a year older than Averil.

"Julian, I fell down the stairs, and my leg hurts."

"Victoria, it’s just an apology and a clarification. It’s not that hard."

Julian sounded genuinely disappointed.

"When did you turn into such a shameless liar?"

Drip. Drip.

Tears, mingled with blood from my nose, splattered onto the back of my hand. Pressing a hand over my mouth, I hung up the call.

Julian called again, but I immediately put his number on silent.

I called for an ambulance myself. When the paramedics arrived, they asked if I had any family to accompany me.

"No," I replied numbly, tilting my head back. "They're all gone."

On the way to the hospital, Julian sent me a message, "Victoria, Averil was so upset by you that she fainted. You need to come to the hospital immediately to apologize in person. Bring an appropriate gift; there will be reporters present. Don’t worry about your reputation. This mess is your fault to begin with."

My hands trembled as I typed a two-word reply, “Keep dreaming."

Then I turned off my phone, shutting myself away in solitude.

While waiting in the hospital hallway for my X-ray results, I unexpectedly heard a familiar voice:

"Mr. Watson, I’m Victoria’s boyfriend. If there’s anything she needs moving forward, feel free to contact me directly."

I looked up, locking eyes with Julian as he walked in.

His steps faltered for a moment, his movements stiff, but he quickly acted as if he didn’t recognize me. Continuing his conversation with Benjamin Watson, he passed me without a second glance.

The faint citrus scent clinging to him twisted my stomach in knots.

I almost bolted, but Julian turned back.

He seemed to have rushed over, and when he noticed I was still there, a flicker of exasperation crossed his face.

"Victoria, have you thought it through?"

"I told you to keep dreaming." I pushed past him, limping away in the opposite direction.

I felt Julian's gaze linger on my injured leg for a moment, growing colder by the second.

"Victoria, are you really stooping to this kind of ploy just to avoid apologizing?"

I didn’t want to respond. All I wanted was to get away from this hallway, thick with the scent of Averil’s perfume.

A large hand grabbed my shoulder, yanking me back.

I stumbled, barely able to steady myself as a sharp pain shot through my leg.

"Ah!"

I couldn’t hold back a cry of pain.

Julian’s brow furrowed in irritation, his tone laced with displeasure. "You’ve really let me down."

With practiced ease, he reached into my pocket and took my phone.

"Give it back!"

I stretched my arm to snatch it, but Julian, clearly annoyed, gave me a firm shove.

"Hank, hold her."

The bodyguard, tall and imposing, pinned me effortlessly. I couldn’t break free.

"Julian Ford!!"

A mask was tossed over. "Cover her mouth. Stop her from screaming."

My wrist was locked in a crushing grip, my legs throbbed with pain, and my mouth was tightly covered. All I could do was let my tears flow helplessly.

I could only watch as Julian took my phone, logged into my account, and posted an apology and clarification in my name.

"I’ve changed your password and replaced your verification number with mine. For now, just stay out of trouble."

When Julian finally looked up and saw my state, he seemed startled. He pushed Hank, away, glaring at him in reproach.

"Did you really have to use that much force?"

He rubbed my wrist gently. "Does it hurt? If you’d listened earlier, this wouldn’t have happened."

I snatched my phone back and reluctantly opened my social media, only to find a post uploaded from my account that read:

"I apologize for my earlier comment on Redwood Dance Troupe’s post. I am not married to Mr. Julian Ford. As a fan, I acted on selfish impulses. I also want to apologize to Ms. Averil Wells and Mr. Julian Ford for any trouble I’ve caused."

My hands trembled as I tried to open the comments section.

"Victoria, have you no shame?"

“Victoria, my God, your desperation to become the other woman practically oozes through the screen."

"Victoria, people like you are a disgrace to dancers everywhere. Get out of this industry!"

...

Julian took the phone from my hand again. "Don’t look."

I moved my lips, my voice low and unsteady. "Julian, is this what you wanted?"

He turned his face away. "People online forget quickly. I’ll have someone redirect the narrative later. Just stay off your phone for a few days."

I shook my head slowly, my vision unfocused. "Julian, you’ve destroyed me."

I couldn’t make out his expression, but his voice, tinged with irritation, rang in my ears.

"I already told you I’ll handle it. Why are you making a scene? If you hadn’t caused all this trouble yourself, would things be this messy? Victoria, you have to understand that even if I deliberately put you in the spotlight, it’s your own fault you ended up like this!"

A sharp ringing filled my ears, drowning out everything else as a bitter laugh escaped my lips.

"Julian, let’s get a divorce."

He seemed to chuckle, his voice indulgent yet exasperated. "You’re upset right now. If venting helps, go ahead."

He was convinced I wouldn’t divorce him, using his supposed tolerance to display his magnanimity.

Surprisingly, Julian’s laughter brought me an eerie sense of calm.

Just then, the doctor called my name from the other end of the hallway. "Victoria Dean, your test results are ready."

Julian froze for a moment and followed after me. "What test results?"

"Julian,” a soft voice called out from behind him. “Why have you been gone so long?"

He immediately turned back, heading toward Averil, who stood at the doorway of her hospital room.

"Averil, why did you come out? You should be resting. Get back to bed," he said, his tone filled with concern.

Dragging my numb, pain-ridden leg, I walked in the opposite direction, completely away from him.

It felt as though I were stepping on razor blades.

Every step sliced through my flesh.

Every step tore through my soul.

The doctor handed me the results and warned me that I needed to rest for the next month. Without it, dancing again would be out of the question.

I hailed a cab and returned home to face the cold emptiness of my apartment alone.

Because of our secret marriage, Julian and I maintained separate residences. He’d deliberately chosen the unit right above mine.

On my first night there, he pinned me against the wall and kissed me.

"Now I can sneak into your bed every night.”

Julian seemed to take particular pleasure in this illicit game, as though the secrecy added a thrill.

I once thought it was just a peculiar quirk beneath his otherwise serious exterior.

But I was wrong.

The thrill wasn’t about secrecy—it was about betrayal.

He had grown bored of me and set his sights on the newer, more enticing Averil.

At nine in the evening, Julian arrived with a bag of fruit.

"Victoria, I got you some cherries. Want to have some now?"

I tossed my phone at him. The screen displayed Averil’s latest post:

"I said I wanted sweet-and-sour cherries, and he ended up buying regular ones instead. Hilarious."

"Did she not want them, so you decided to throw them my way?"

Julian frowned. "Don’t be like this..."

He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around my waist in a familiar gesture. "Is this because I haven’t touched you for so long? Are you upset about that?"

I shoved him away with all my strength, then made a point of gagging a few times right in front of him.

Dark clouds gathered on his face. "Victoria Dean, that’s enough. Stop acting like this."

"Acting like what?" My heart ached, tears streaming down my face. "Do you have any idea how many hateful calls I’ve received? Do you know I’ve been blacklisted by every major dance troupe? My career is ruined! Julian Ford, what did I do wrong to deserve this?"

I’ve always been the quiet, mild-tempered type—in other words, easy to push around.

Julian used to playfully tug on my earlobe, his voice full of affection.

"Victoria, you’re so easy to bully. What would you do without me?"

I never once imagined he’d leave me behind.

Years ago, when my parents took their own lives under a cloud of scandal, the entire world turned its back on me.

Julian was the one who pulled me out of the mud.

He stood up to his family for me, and I still remember how he knelt in the rain for hours, defying their disapproval.

He took me far away from the pain and gave us a fresh start in a new city.

Even when I was at my lowest, broken and worthless, Julian didn’t give up on me

The hardest days were behind us, yet now I faced his betrayal.

“Let’s divorce,” I said, closing my eyes. “At least let me keep some dignity.”

"Victoria..." Julian pinched the bridge of his nose, looking weary. "This isn’t the first time you got insulted, so why are you acting so delicate now?"

My eyes flew open in disbelief, and I stared at him, stunned.

“What did you just say?”

Julian pressed his lips into a thin line, his expression dark. “When your parents committed suicide, the whole country was cursing you—”

“Get out!” I screamed, grabbing a cushion from the sofa and hurling it at him. “Get out!”

Julian looked utterly taken aback. He had never seen me so hysterical. After a moment of stunned silence, he stormed out, taking the bag of cherries with him.

“Don’t need my leftovers, huh? Fine. Let’s see how long you can hold out,” he snapped as he left.

Not even ten minutes later, Averil posted another update.

"First day in the new place—this décor is so tacky. What kind of tasteless guy thought this up?"

The photograph showed his upstairs apartment. The so-called "tacky décor" was all my work.

Julian even replied to her post, "Yeah, it’s pretty bad. Let’s tear it down and redo it."

I rubbed my sore eyes, my tears long dried.

A house could be redecorated. A partner could be replaced.

To him, I was nothing more than an old, discarded toy.

When yet another harassing phone call came through, I finally pulled out my SIM card and replaced it with the number I’d used during my overseas performances.

Back then, a prestigious international dance troupe had extended me an offer, but I had turned down the opportunity because I couldn’t bear to part with Julian.

Now, with my heart pounding, I nervously dialed the number that had contacted me back then. “Hello, is this Mr. Jason Yates?”

There was silence on the other end. If not for the faint sound of breathing, I would have thought the call had been disconnected.

Why wasn’t he speaking? Had he seen the trending news?

Clutching the phone tightly, my palms grew damp with sweat. “Mr. Yates, please listen to me. I didn’t do any of those things. I’ve tried to post a clarification, but my social media account has been taken over. Every time I create a new one, my post gets deleted within seconds. I…”

“Wait for me.”

A low, muffled male voice interrupted me. It sounded unexpectedly familiar but was completely different from the blond-haired Jason I remembered.

I froze. “You’re not Jason?”

“Wait for me,” the voice repeated before abruptly hanging up.

I stood there, bewildered, trying to make sense of what just happened. As I was still in a daze, a text message came through, "Taking off. Turning off my phone."

A few seconds later, another message arrived, "Wait for me to return. I’ll take you away."