a Quin

, invisible hands. The only time I felt truly alive, truly me, was when I danced. On stage, und

ence, was the only reason I clung to mine. Every breath I to

lls clutched in my hand, the dizzying height of the city skyline from my pent

Elenora, you

ce me to endure another day, another breath, another agonizing mome

language my shattered spirit understood. It was th

ted marriage, a miracle. A tiny

. He was solicitous, almost tender. He bought me flowers, brought me br

oice deceptively soft, "it's time for you to give up

. My dancing. My

omeone to manage her new PR firm. She's so busy with her political career. You'

was barely a whisper. "Greys

ere always a mediocre dancer. Isla, n

ndless compliance. They shattered. I grabbed the delicate vase of roses he had boug

t me scream, let me break things. And when I was spent, col

chillingly calm. "Because if you're not, I

e heavy door slamming shut behind him, leaving me

hone: Are you okay, Elenora? We heard about Is

penthouse. My legs, still my own then, moved on autopilot, carryi

r. And through the gap, I saw it. Isla, in his arms, her head nestled against his chest. Her hand, long

the world spinning. I wanted to scream, to

oice raw with pain and fury. "Grey

ing. Greyson's eyes widened, a

t outside his office. Before I could even register what was happening, the

myself flying through the air, a ragdoll tossed by an unseen force.

mpty. It was filled with the wrenching scream of a mo

placed by a heavy, aching void. The doctors told me I would never

len my future. And they, Greyson and