The Dance of Vengeance

A mask was tossed over. "Cover her mouth. Stop her from screaming."

My wrist was locked in a crushing grip, my legs throbbed with pain, and my mouth was tightly covered. All I could do was let my tears flow helplessly.

I could only watch as Julian took my phone, logged into my account, and posted an apology and clarification in my name.

"I’ve changed your password and replaced your verification number with mine. For now, just stay out of trouble."

When Julian finally looked up and saw my state, he seemed startled. He pushed Hank, away, glaring at him in reproach.

"Did you really have to use that much force?"

He rubbed my wrist gently. "Does it hurt? If you’d listened earlier, this wouldn’t have happened."

I snatched my phone back and reluctantly opened my social media, only to find a post uploaded from my account that read:

"I apologize for my earlier comment on Redwood Dance Troupe’s post. I am not married to Mr. Julian Ford. As a fan, I acted on selfish impulses. I also want to apologize to Ms. Averil Wells and Mr. Julian Ford for any trouble I’ve caused."

My hands trembled as I tried to open the comments section.

"Victoria, have you no shame?"

“Victoria, my God, your desperation to become the other woman practically oozes through the screen."

"Victoria, people like you are a disgrace to dancers everywhere. Get out of this industry!"

...

Julian took the phone from my hand again. "Don’t look."

I moved my lips, my voice low and unsteady. "Julian, is this what you wanted?"

He turned his face away. "People online forget quickly. I’ll have someone redirect the narrative later. Just stay off your phone for a few days."

I shook my head slowly, my vision unfocused. "Julian, you’ve destroyed me."

I couldn’t make out his expression, but his voice, tinged with irritation, rang in my ears.

"I already told you I’ll handle it. Why are you making a scene? If you hadn’t caused all this trouble yourself, would things be this messy? Victoria, you have to understand that even if I deliberately put you in the spotlight, it’s your own fault you ended up like this!"

A sharp ringing filled my ears, drowning out everything else as a bitter laugh escaped my lips.

"Julian, let’s get a divorce."

He seemed to chuckle, his voice indulgent yet exasperated. "You’re upset right now. If venting helps, go ahead."

He was convinced I wouldn’t divorce him, using his supposed tolerance to display his magnanimity.

Surprisingly, Julian’s laughter brought me an eerie sense of calm.

Just then, the doctor called my name from the other end of the hallway. "Victoria Dean, your test results are ready."

Julian froze for a moment and followed after me. "What test results?"

"Julian,” a soft voice called out from behind him. “Why have you been gone so long?"

He immediately turned back, heading toward Averil, who stood at the doorway of her hospital room.

"Averil, why did you come out? You should be resting. Get back to bed," he said, his tone filled with concern.

Dragging my numb, pain-ridden leg, I walked in the opposite direction, completely away from him.

It felt as though I were stepping on razor blades.

Every step sliced through my flesh.

Every step tore through my soul.

The doctor handed me the results and warned me that I needed to rest for the next month. Without it, dancing again would be out of the question.

I hailed a cab and returned home to face the cold emptiness of my apartment alone.

Because of our secret marriage, Julian and I maintained separate residences. He’d deliberately chosen the unit right above mine.

On my first night there, he pinned me against the wall and kissed me.

"Now I can sneak into your bed every night.”

Julian seemed to take particular pleasure in this illicit game, as though the secrecy added a thrill.

I once thought it was just a peculiar quirk beneath his otherwise serious exterior.

But I was wrong.

The thrill wasn’t about secrecy—it was about betrayal.

He had grown bored of me and set his sights on the newer, more enticing Averil.