The Dance of Vengeance

"Well, if it isn’t Victoria Dean, the great dancer herself. Since you’re here, why not give us a performance before you leave?"

I didn’t recognize the man in front of me, but it was obvious that he was just one of Julian’s pawns sent to humiliate me.

"Move," I said coldly, my expression hardened.

"Oh, look at that attitude." The man sized me up as if I were a product on display. "Still think you’re the rising star of the dance world? You do know, don’t you? You’ve already been blacklisted from the industry."

His words knocked the breath out of me, leaving me feeling like I’d plunged into icy water.

"Julian," I said, turning to him. "Is he telling the truth?"

Julian swirled the wine in his glass, his gaze distant and cold. "This is your punishment for what you did wrong."

I couldn’t hold back anymore and pressed him. "What did I do wrong? What could possibly justify you ruining my career and cutting off all my opportunities? Julian Ford, answer me!"

His lips tightened, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. "You know very well what you did."

Averil laughed softly. "Victoria, I’m performing tonight. Since your reputation hasn’t been great lately, why not dance too? There are plenty of influential people here. Maybe someone will take an interest in you."

I stared at Averil, my gaze unflinching until her smile faded.

"Julian," she said, shrinking behind him. "Victoria looks so scary."

Julian patted her hand, his eyes fixed on me. "Victoria, didn’t you want to cozy up to the right people? There are several entertainment executives here tonight. This is your chance. Why not make the most of it?"

I took in a sharp breath, unable to recognize the man standing before me.

I thought back to the year Julian first started his business. He was desperate for seed money, and without it, he would have missed a golden opportunity.

I had secretly taken a job dancing at a nightclub to make quick cash, but when Julian found out, he’d rather sell his blood than let me expose myself like that.

"You know how jealous I am," he had said back then. "I can’t stand the thought of any man looking at you, even for a second."

He had loved me so fiercely back then. We spent nights wrapped in each other’s arms in that tiny, run-down apartment, finding joy in the simplest things—even sharing a single apple felt like a feast.

And now? He seemed indifferent, almost eager, to push me toward other men.

My voice came out dry and hoarse, barely recognizable. "Alright, as you wish."

I pushed past the person blocking my way and headed toward a director I had once worked with.

"Look, Victoria’s still limping. Could she really be injured?"

"Ignore her. She’s faking it."

Julian’s voice, filled with arrogance and disdain, blended seamlessly with the mocking laughter around me, creating a suffocating web of humiliation.

I forced myself to reach the director, but before I could even greet him, he quickly stepped aside, avoiding me like the plague.

I froze, knowing there was no point in asking.

But I couldn’t accept it.

I had always been known as one of the most hardworking dancers in the industry. My low-key and professional demeanor had earned me a solid reputation.

So many people had once begged me for collaborations, making grand promises. I refused to believe that all my accomplishments could be completely erased by Julian’s words.

I dragged my injured leg forward, lowering myself to approach others I recognized in the crowd.

Yet every one of them avoided me as if I were poison. Some walked away the moment they spotted me, while others sided with Averil, mocking me openly.

I swallowed my pride and endured every insult, but by the time I had exhausted every option in the vast banquet hall, I finally realized just how pathetic I had become.

I was nothing more than a clown under the spotlight, put on display for everyone’s amusement.

They couldn’t resist stepping on me, mocking me.

And leading the charge was the man I had once believed I could entrust with my life.

Julian looked at me, his expression grim. "Victoria, haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough?"

Averil chimed in, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "Julian, Victoria is my senior after all. Why not just let it go?"

He didn’t respond, but the tight furrow of his brows relaxed slightly.

"Let it go? No way!" someone shouted deliberately. "A dancer daring to put on airs—if word gets out, won’t it tarnish Mr. Ford’s reputation?"

"Exactly. Even if Mr. Ford doesn’t stoop to her level, she still needs to be taught a lesson. She has to learn what lines she shouldn’t cross."

"Victoria, drink this glass of liquor, and we’ll consider giving you another chance," one of Julian’s lackeys said, shoving a full glass of vodka into my hand. "What do you all think?"

The crowd erupted in enthusiastic agreement, their jeers echoing around me.

I turned to Julian and asked, "Is this what you want?"