Chapter 2

I sidestepped, dodging the pointe shoes Mia held out to me.

"Arthur’s lifting technique is lightyears ahead of hers," I said, facing Dorian.

"Besides, Mia’s talent is... limited. She needs all the extra practice she can get here at the manor."

"As for me? I have the Wentworth trust fund to fall back on. I don’t need to work myself to the bone just for one admission spot."

The harsh reminder of our class difference hit her right where it hurt.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the blood drain from her face.

I gave a barely-there raise of my eyebrow, a vicious sense of satisfaction washing over me.

I had been such a colossal idiot in my past life.

I had constantly walked on eggshells around Mia's fragile, pathetic ego, never daring to flaunt the Wentworth wealth in front of her.

I didn’t even dare ask Dorian for affection, terrified it would trigger Mia’s inferiority complex and send her into tears.

I made it a habit to buy duplicates of every haute couture gown and piece of jewelry I got.

But instead of appreciating my thoughtfulness, Dorian just took it for granted.

On my eighteenth birthday, my best friend gifted me a limited-edition Black Swan tiara I had been dreaming about for ages.

I wore it with pure joy, sitting on the living room sofa, eagerly waiting for Dorian to compliment me.

But the moment Dorian walked through the door, his eyes immediately locked onto Mia’s dark, jealous glare.

He didn't even bother saying "Happy Birthday." He just ripped into me.

"Olivia, why didn't you get one for Mia as well?"

"You are incredibly selfish. Next time you get accessories like this, you make sure Mia gets one too."

I sat frozen on the sofa, my smile instantly dropping.

I wanted to scream at him, to ask him if he had completely forgotten whose birthday it actually was.

But seeing the deep heartache in his eyes for Mia, my throat tightened, and I couldn't utter a single word.

Late that night, Dorian brought Mia back from a gala.

The Black Swan tiara I treasured so much was resting perfectly on Mia’s head.

She purposely twirled twice in front of me, blatantly showing off her stolen trophy.

That was the exact moment I finally, despairingly, accepted the truth.

In Dorian’s heart, Mia meant far more to him than his own stepsister ever would.

Snapping back to the present, the living room had fallen into a dead silence.

My "considerate" little speech about class differences had left both Dorian and Mia utterly stunned.

Dorian’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his brows furrowed. He studied me with a searching look, and for once, he didn't immediately bark a reprimand.

Mia sensed the shift in the atmosphere and quickly shuffled forward in her cashmere slippers to block me.

"Going all the way to the theater is such a hassle."

"Time is money, Olivia. You really shouldn't bother Arthur."

Seeing that I wasn't backing down, Mia suddenly raised her voice.

"Besides, Ms. Isabella already told me this afternoon."

"The guaranteed spot at Juilliard is mine!"

My pupils shrank, and a cold laugh bubbled up in my chest.

Just the day before yesterday, Ms. Isabella told me the only guaranteed spots for Juilliard this year belonged to me and Arthur.

Mia’s name was never even on the table.

Mia was lying.

Or, they had already used some filthy, underhanded tricks behind my back to steal my spot.

Either way, all I had to do was see Arthur tonight and confront him face-to-face.

Seeing me reach for my trench coat on the coat rack, Mia panicked and blocked the door.

"New York is so dangerous at night. It's totally unsafe out there."

"We have a massive dance studio home. Just invite Arthur over to practice. It'll be so much better if we're all together."

I was completely done playing happy family with them. I was leaving, period.

In my past life, I listened to Dorian way too much.

I begged for his permission for everything and backed down at every turn, and all it got me was a shattered body at the bottom of a staircase.

This time, I was never letting them hold the reins again.

Seeing I wasn't stopping, Mia threw her arms out, physically blocking my path.

"Olivia, why do you insist on leaving right now? Are you just jealous that I got the Juilliard spot?"

The moment the words left her mouth, she let out a fake, exaggerated gasp and covered her mouth.

Her eyes instantly welled up with tears, swimming in manufactured victimhood.

She turned to Dorian, her voice breaking into a sob.

"I'm so sorry, Dorian. I just wanted to help Olivia so badly... I was in such a rush I forgot to consider her pride..."

Dorian stepped right up to her, his hand resting tenderly on her back as he rubbed it to soothe her.

When his gaze snapped back to me, he looked at me like I was a worthless piece of trash.

"Olivia, if you can't even handle the mental pressure of a simple rejection, why the hell are you even dancing ballet?"

The anger of it sent my brain into a momentary tailspin.

For a split second, I actually caught myself wondering—was I the one being unfair to Mia?

But I crushed that ridiculous thought instantly.

Just as I opened my mouth to snap back and rip off their hypocritical masks...

A violent wave of dizziness hit me out of nowhere.

My vision blurred and spun wildly, and every ounce of strength evaporated from my limbs.

My body swayed uncontrollably.

Through my swimming vision, my eyes locked dead onto the gold-rimmed teacup resting on the coffee table.

Ten minutes ago, I had downed the cup of Earl Grey tea Mia had personally handed me.

The tea was drugged!