I Love A Guy, But He's 15 Years Older

That was it.

I turned and walked off the stage, ignoring the rising buzz of murmurs behind me.

By the time I reached backstage, I heard Ginger announcing she’d perform the dance again—this time as the original creator.

The worst part? She danced it really beautifully.

Of course, she did. She’d had plenty of time to dissect every move and every expression. She didn’t just steal my work—she wanted to parade it in front of everyone like it was hers all along.

I didn’t look back. I just kept walking until I was out of the venue.

It was drizzling outside. I stood there in the rain, letting the cold drops soak my whole body.

And at that moment, I finally got it—some things can’t be kept… no matter how hard you try.

Like my feelings for Ulysses.

Like my dream of becoming a professional ballet dancer.

Both had been torn apart in this carefully planned disaster.

The rain came down harder, matching the tears I couldn’t hold back anymore. They just poured out, no stopping them.

When I got back from the competition, I locked myself in my room for two full days. No food, no water.

Meanwhile, that ridiculous video spread like wildfire online. My socials blew up with angry strangers flooding my feed.

[Plagiarist!] [Ingrate!] [Shameless!]

Each word hit like sharp arrows, piercing my heart deeper than I thought possible.

On the third morning, I finally came out of my room.

In the dining room, Ginger was sitting there, enjoying a fancy breakfast. When she saw me, she gracefully wiped her mouth with a napkin.

“Awake? I was starting to think you were planning to starve yourself to death in there.”

I went straight to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water.

But of course, she wouldn’t let it go.

“Darcey, about the competition,” she said. “We should probably talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” I twisted the cap off the bottle, my voice raspy.

“How could there not be anything to talk about?” She set her fork down. “Do you have any idea what kind of damage this has done to the d'Amboises? People online are saying they raised an ungrateful wolf! Even Lee’s company is taking a hit!”

My hand froze mid-twist. “So?”

“So,” she said, her voice dripping with fake kindness, “I think you should release a statement. Admit to the plagiarism, apologize to everyone—it’s really the best solution for all of us. Don’t worry, though. If you take responsibility, I won’t press charges.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Admit it? Why should I admit to something I didn’t do?”

“You still don’t get it, do you?” Her tone suddenly turned cold. “This industry is small. You really think you’ll have a future in ballet dancing if you cross me?”

I turned to face her, staring at her. “Do you hate me that much?”

“Hate you?” She chuckled. “Why would I hate you? You’re just the adopted kid. You’re not even worth competing with. I just can’t stand the way you look at Lee—it’s so obvious. Honestly, anyone watching might think you two… have something going on.”

These words are like a knife, accurately piercing my soft spot. My grip on the bottle tightened, my hand shaking. “You’ve known all along?”

“Gosh, everyone knows!” She stood, taking a step closer. “Everyone except Lee, who still insists on seeing you as a little sister. But not anymore. He’s finally seen you for who you really are. Someone who steals other people’s work. How good of a person could you possibly be?”

I could feel my composure cracking. “You stole my work and then turned it all back on me?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Got any proof? If you don’t, you should really keep your mouth shut. It won’t end well for you.”

Just then, a voice cut through the tension.

“What are you two talking about?”

I turned and saw Ulysses standing in the doorway, sharp in his suit, brows furrowed.

I couldn’t tell how much he’d heard.