Back to Dance, Back to Life

Ashton's POV

“Christian’s having stomach pain,” Seraphina said as she grabbed her keys. “His wife’s been away on a business trip, and you know he’s hopeless at taking care of himself. I’ll go check on him.”

Even so, I didn’t bother stopping her. The moment she left, I opened the email from my lawyer, printed the divorce papers, and laid them neatly on my desk.

Out of habit, I glanced at my phone, and there it was. Christian’s latest post on social media:

[I said I felt a little sick after too much cake, and my auntie rushed over to take care of me.]

The attached photos showed her cooking in his kitchen, spoon-feeding him soup, and gently wiping the corner of his mouth like a doting lover.

In the three years we’d been married, even when I was bedridden with pain, I had never once seen Seraphina cook.

Then, another post popped up, this time a short video.

Seraphina was hand-washing one of Christian’s stained underwear, her sleeves rolled up. Christian looped his arms around her neck, teasing her in that familiar, shameless tone. “Seraphina, you treat me so well. If I ever get divorced, I’m marrying you, okay?”

She frowned and said sternly, “Don’t talk nonsense, you’re an adult now.”

But I saw it—how her hands trembled from excitement when he said it.

And that was enough. I closed my phone, signed my name on the divorce agreement, and set it aside.

That night, Seraphina didn’t come home.

The next morning, I went alone to the dance company.

Today was the celebration party for Christian’s promotion to principal dancer, which was an event both Seraphina and I were expected to attend.

It had been three long years since I last set foot in this place that once carried my dreams and glory.

After my accident, Seraphina bought the entire company. She told me it was because this place held my memories, and she wanted to preserve them for me.

Now I finally understood. She bought it so she could personally place him, the man she truly loved, on the throne that once belonged to me.

I gave a bitter smile just as I saw her arriving, arm in arm with Christian.

But when she spotted me, she hurried over and breathlessly said, “Sorry, sweetheart. The roads were closed last night, so I couldn’t make it back.”

I didn’t bother replying and just nodded faintly.

She looked like she wanted to say more, but Christian stepped forward and grabbed the handles of my wheelchair. “Seraphina, there are a lot of industry bigwigs looking for you. Don’t worry about Ashton, I’ll keep him company.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded and walked off.

Christian and I hadn’t spoken privately since the day he and my ex-fiancée betrayed me. Any contact since then was only because of Seraphina. So, I didn’t know what game he was playing now, acting all friendly.

He didn’t give me a chance to ask. He soon pushed me toward the Hall of Honor—a long corridor lined with framed photos and awards.

Only now, every one of my pictures and trophies was gone, replaced by his.

Finally, he dropped the pretense, and his smug voice echoed above me. “So, what if you were a prodigy, Ashton? Look at you now, flat on your back, right where you belong.”

He then strolled in front of me and proudly lifted his leg, showing off his new shoes. “See these? Crocodile leather, custom-made. Seraphina ordered them herself to celebrate my promotion.”

Then he laughed lightly, eyes gleaming with mockery. “Do you like them, Ashton? Oh, wait, silly me. You’re paralyzed. Even if you wanted them, you couldn’t wear something this fine.”

He leaned closer, smirk widening. “Actually, since I’m in a generous mood today, I’ll share a secret with you. Seraphina and I are not related by blood. In fact, we used to date for years.”

He paused for effect, clearly enjoying the shock on my face. “You know why she married you? Because I had my eyes on your fiancée back then. You were in the way, so I asked her to reel you in and keep you busy.”