The Dance of Vengeance

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."