Her Night Dance
Chapter 18
Inside the glitzy main stage, Amber, clad in her pristine white battle gown, was still performing confidently, oblivious to what was happening.
In the backstage control room, Ethan, however, was glued to
another livestream.
1/4
On the screen, the fiery red figure needed no lights, no stage
effects. Her very presence was the embodiment of the beauty of
dance.
The official the Choreographer’s Canvas livestream was hemorrhaging viewers.
Just like Ethan, the audience was flocking to another, private
livestream.
The flood of comments almost obscured the crimson figure on the
screen.
[I don’t even know how to put this into words. Stunning.]
[Clara’s performance is incredible. Suddenly, Amber feels like a
cheap copycat.]
[I was wondering why Amber claimed Clara was pressuring her to admit plagiarism–turns out it’s just the thief crying wolf.]
Chapter 18
2/4
[If the injury is fake, she’s a master of her craft for making it seem real. If it’s real, the fact she pulled off those moves with one leg is unbelievable!]
[Injury or not, Clara has been criminally underrated.]
One of the judges turned to Ethan, his face pale. “Mr. Ward, given
the circumstances, how are we supposed to score this?”
Ethan tore his gaze away from the screen, his expression dark. “Stick to the original plan.”
“But the audience reaction-”
“You’re the experts,” Ethan snapped, his frustration barely contained. “Isn’t it your job to decide how to judge?”
*****
When my dance ended, I exhaled deeply, releasing all the tension that had been building inside me. I went to the dressing room to
change into clean clothes.
By the time I returned, the show was still airing. I caught the
paid–off judges bending over backward to praise Amber while
taking every opportunity to disparage me.
“Amber’s performance represents true artistry. In terms of
technique and emotional depth, Clara Bennett’s flashy stunts pale
in comparison–mere attempts to pander to the crowd.”
Chapter 18
I smirked, entirely unbothered by their critiques.
3/4
These so–called “experts” always assumed their self–proclaimed
superiority gave them the right to deceive the public.
But as I’d said earlier, while not everyone understood dance, the
appreciation of beauty was universal.
It was obvious who had plagiarized whom.
I opened the livestream comments, and sure enough, the
audience shared my sentiment, tearing the show apart.
[So the Choreographer’s Canvas was rigged from the start?
Disgusting.]
[Amber had a state–of–the–art stage and a world–class team, but
Clara outshone her with nothing but a portable speaker. Honestly,
I’m embarrassed for Amber Vaughn.]
[I just want to ask the judges one thing–have you guys no
shame?]
As audience outrage reached a boiling point, I posted two
updates on Space X.
The first was a video showing me perfecting the choreography in
my practice room.
The second was a series of audio recordings from my meetings with Brandon, proving he had stolen my stage design.
Chapter 18
The reaction was swift and furious.
Under mounting pressure, the show’s producers were forced to cut the broadcast and release an emergency statement, promising a thorough investigation and urging viewers to stay
patient.
After the drama settled, I emerged from the dressing room.
Ethan spotted me first.
4/4
His eyes lit up, and he hurried over, holding a bouquet of vibran
Louis XIV roses.
“I had no idea your performance would be this good,” Ethan said,
holding the flowers out to me.
“Congratulations.”
I glanced at Amber behind him, her face twisted with bitterness. A slow smile spread across my lips.
“What’s this? Have you finally realized you can’t beat me and
decided to play the reconciliation card instead?”
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