Page 75 of In Shadows We Dance

Monty follows me out of the bedroom, down the hall.

“The whole floor?" he asks, his eyes scanning the empty spaces across from mine.

"It’s a gallery," I reply, pushing open the first door. The black walls inside make the space feel endless, a perfect contrast to her pale skin in the photographs. "Every detail of her story will be preserved. Every piece of her I uncover, documented."

Monty stands in the doorway, his hands shoved into his pockets.

I move to the next door, gesturing inside. "This room is for her dancing. Every leap, every turn, every time she loses that careful control." I step back into the hall, opening the final door. "And this room ..." My voice softens, a smile tugging at my lips. "This is for the hunt. When she realizes there’s nowhere left to hide."

Monty exhales hard. "You’ve gone all in on this one."

"She deserves it."

We return to my room, and I pull out the blueprints I’ve drawn up. The darkroom is only the start. Each space has been carefully planned to document a different aspect of her surrender.

"The main gallery for the photographs. The darkroom for processing new ones. And the ballroom …" My finger stops on the largest space. "This is where I’ll make her face herself. Where I’ll make her see who she really is."

The dress I bought yesterday hangs in my closet, deep blue silk that will cling to every curve. I remember the way her fingers stroked over the silk when she saw it in the store. Soon, she’ll wear it for me. Soon, everyone will see what I’ve uncovered.

I bend, pulling out the box that arrived yesterday. Inside, wrapped in tissue paper, lies the final piece of my plan. A black leather-bound album, its pages thick, waiting to be filled with the story of her transformation—from invisible girl to mine.

Monty’s gaze shifts to the files spread across my desk. "What are those?"

"Her father has spent years hiding her. Teaching her to be aghost." I pick up a document, one that outlines every detail of her past. "I’m going to make her visible. Make her real."

My obsession burns hotter, my need to capture everything. Her fear, her fight, her surrender is consuming me. I want each step of her descent documented, every piece of her stripped away until there’s nothing left but what I choose to preserve.

"Wren …" There’s uncertainty in his eyes as he takes in the photographs, the plans, the rooms designed for her.

"Six A.M. tomorrow." I smile, my gaze fixed on the photograph in my hand. "That’s when I start dismantling every illusion of what she thinks her life is."

Monty leaves sometime in the afternoon, but I barely notice. My focus is on perfection. Hours pass as I arrange and rearrange the photographs, planning how I’ll document tomorrow’s performance. The leather album lies open on my desk, waiting to be filled with the next chapters of our story.

The sun sets as I make my final preparations. My pretty Ballerina is trying so hard to hold herself together. To pretend she can still hide from me.

She can’t.

She never could.

She just doesn’t know it yet.

But she will.

One photograph at a time. Until there’s nothing left but what I choose to own.

What I choose to break. And what I choose to rebuild in my own image.

CHAPTER 39

A Different Kind of Invisible

ILEANA

Sleep never came.I've spent the night watching shadows move across my ceiling, dreading what morning would bring. His command echoes in my mind.

Six A.M., the dance studio.

My breathing turns shallow as I tangle my fingers into the sheets, eyes locked on the clock as it inches toward the deadline.

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