Chapter 6 - An Offer in the Dark
"I didn't throw anything away, Daniel," I said, stepping closer to the car, my eyes burning through the shadows. "You took the sponsors. You took the prize money while I was learning how to walk again. You told the world I was dead to dance."
Daniel smiled, unfazed by my anger. "The world doesn't care about a broken dancer, Claire. They care about winners. I gave them what they wanted. I built the Vance Dance Academy into a fifty-million-dollar empire while you played martyr in the kitchen."
He leaned forward, his cologne washing over me—heavy, expensive, and suffocating.
"Here is what happens next," Daniel whispered. "Tomorrow morning, you will release a statement saying the video was a staged publicity stunt. You will state that you are an aspiring amateur who used my choreography without permission. In exchange, I won't sue you for breach of old intellectual property contracts, and I might even slip you enough cash to pay off your mother’s nursing home debt. Refuse... and I will have my lawyers bleed you dry until you don't even have a park bench to sleep on."
"Get away from her."
A sudden, sharp voice cut through the rain.
Ethan Ashford appeared out of the darkness, his tuxedo jacket soaked through, his eyes blazing with fury. He walked straight up to the limousine door and slammed it shut with a resounding thud, narrowly missing Daniel's fingers.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" Daniel hissed through the lowered glass, his composure slipping.
"I'm Ethan Ashford," he replied with chilling calm. "And you are idling on private property belonging to the Ashford Development Corporation. Move this car in five seconds, or my security team will tow it into the river with you inside."
Daniel’s jaw tightened. He glared at Ethan, then cast a venomous look at me. "This isn't over, Claire. You're a relic. And relics belong in the trash."
The limousine accelerated into the wet street, its red taillights vanishing into the Chicago fog.
I stood there in the downpour, my body shivering, the pain in my knee finally forcing me to lean against a concrete lamppost. Ethan turned to me, immediately pulling off his soaked tuxedo jacket and draping it around my shoulders. It was warm, carrying the faint scent of cedarwood and rain.
"You shouldn't have done that," I whispered, my teeth chattering. "Daniel Vance is ruthless. He has media connections in every major city. And your father will cut you off if you defy him."
"Let him try," Ethan said softly. He looked down at me, his eyes full of an intensity that made my chest tighten. "I know who you are now, Claire. I know what Daniel did to you twelve years ago. My family was one of the early donors to his academy—we were lied to, just like everyone else."
"It doesn't matter anymore, Ethan. It's ancient history. I'm just a woman trying to survive."
"It does matter," Ethan insisted, stepping closer. "In three months, the National Ballroom Invitational is being hosted here in Chicago. Daniel's academy has won the championship five years in a row. He's untouchable. Unless someone takes the trophy from him."
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I looked up at him in disbelief. "Are you insane? I haven't danced competitively in twelve years. My knee is held together by screws."
"You danced tonight on slick marble in rubber shoes and you brought five hundred snobs to their feet," Ethan countered, his voice fierce with conviction. "Train with me, Claire. Be my partner. We will enter the open category, crush Daniel Vance on national television, and take back everything he stole from you."
