Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 25039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
"It's insane, right? This is the first-ever collaboration that Bellegard has offered. Aren't we the luckiest that their fall collection is inspired by ballet?"
"But don't you think it's odd? I mean, why ballet, of all themes?"
"Well, why not?"
"Maybe it's because of her..."
All eyes swung in Heaven's direction at the words, but she pretended not to notice.
Here we go again, same old, same old.
There was just no convincing people who didn't want to like her. And the other girls had made this clear from the start, with the way they continuously made up the wildest and craziest rumors about her.
Last she heard, she was supposed to have this wealthy benefactor who was thrice her age and was thus the "real" reason behind her acceptance to Grace.
"Isn't the oldest Bellegard divorced? And there's been whispers about an affair..."
Heaven mentally shook her head. It really was the same thing over and over again. Couldn't they be more creative with their lies at least?
Oh, whatever.
It was time to tune everyone out and get to work.
Heaven turned her focus to her clothes.
Tights. Wrap skirt. Leg warmers.
All of it was rather worn and tired-looking, which shouldn't be the case at all...if the rumors were true about Heaven being a rich old man's mistress.
Stop it, Heaven. Just let it go.
Heaven turned around in front of the mirror.
No holes at least.
And still functional in every way, which was what mattered the most.
She slipped into a loose sweater, which was also threadbare in some parts.
Still functional though, she reminded herself. And again, that was what mattered the most.
Heaven headed straight to the training hall from the changing room. A five-foot-high runway had been assembled for today's rehearsals, but it was only a third of the normal width.
Unlike normal runway shows in which models were simply expected to walk, turn, and pose, Heaven and the others had been asked to walk, turn, and pose...as well as to spin, glide, and jump on point while parading Bellegard's latest collection.
A challenge, for sure, but it at least made Heaven feel rather excited, which she hadn't felt for quite some time.
Heaven studied the runway while mentally rehearsing her routine.
Mm.
Since there was no one else around, perhaps she could give it a try?
Heaven knelt down and adjusted the straps of her shoes.
Worn-out soles, but still functional, and that was what mattered the most.
A cloud of booze struck her nostrils as Heaven straightened up. Someone shoved past her from behind a second later, and the scent of alcohol grew stronger.
Her head jerked up.
Who in the world would—-oh.
Heaven's face turned expressionless as she watched Micah Wilfrey climb the stairs leading up the runway.
Micah was not only Grace's most successful graduate. She was also widely acknowledged as the most commercially successful ballerina, having been featured on the front covers of leading fashion and swimsuit magazines as well as playing minor but critically acclaimed roles in a select number of Hollywood blockbuster films.
She was everyone's darling...and that was why Heaven knew.
It's the same thing all over again.
Once upon a time, her stepfather was just like Micah. He was his law firm's brightest shining star, a man who had never tasted defeat in the courtroom. He had everything going for him...until he didn't.
Because success always came with pressure, and to relieve himself from the stress, Henry started gambling and drinking. But as the pressure had grown, so had the time he spent in casinos and bars. And when he had started losing cases, Henry's solution had been to drink and gamble more...until there was nothing left, and so he had resorted to blackmailing his own clients.
One look at Micah, and she knew the same thing could happen. She had no idea what Micah's problems were, but the signs were all there when one knew what to look for.
Just like Henry, the other woman was trying to chase away her personal demons with alcohol....and she would fail to do so if no one cared to force her to face the truth.
Don't say a word.
You're only asking for trouble.
This isn't your fight.
But logic was no match for the cries of Heaven's conscience. It was impossible to simply stand by and do or even say nothing at all when she knew where Micah would soon find herself...if she wasn't forced to see the truth.
Micah's gait was noticeably uneven as she climbed the short flight of steps leading up to the runaway.
Oh no.
Heaven couldn't help moving forward when she saw Micah start swaying.
Not good.
Micah's gaze swung sharply in her direction all of a sudden. "What are you looking at?"
"I just...are you okay?"
"Of course I'm okay," the other woman snarled. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Because you're drunk.
The words hovered at the tip of her tongue, but even when Heaven managed to hold them back, it seemed as if Micah had still heard her, with the way the older woman was now staring at her with unconcealed rage.