Page 156 of In Shadows We Dance

Together.

In the darkness that binds us.

Forever.

Epilogue - In Shadows We Dance

WREN

5 YEARS LATER

The small velvet box sits between my parents on Father's mahogany desk, decades of history wrapped in burgundy silk. Five years ago, they wouldn't have been here. Five years ago, this moment would have been reduced to a brief phone call between meetings or a message passed through their assistant.

But Ileana changed everything.

I remember the first time she confronted them, her voice steady even as her hands shook.

"He deserves more than empty rooms and corporate legacies." She'd stood her ground, fierce and brave, until they finally saw what they'd been missing all these years.

Now, Mother's hands shake slightly as she opens the box, revealing the rose gold pendant that defined a legacy. There's a vulnerability in her eyes I never saw in childhood. Guilt mixed with hope, love tangled with regret.

"Alexandra wore this in every performance." Her voice catches on the memories. "From her debut as Clara to her final bow as Giselle."

Father's hand covers hers, steadying her trembling fingers. The morning light catches on the delicate ballet shoes, diamonds glinting like tears. He looks older now, softer somehow. Weekly family dinners and actual conversations have worn away the corporate mask he used to wear.

"Your grandmother would have adored Ileana, son. She would have seen what you saw from the beginning.”

"She reminds me of Alexandra," Mother adds quietly. "Notjust in how she dances, but in how she fights for what matters." Her eyes meet mine, full of meaning. "Forwhomatters."

I think of Ileana, of how she moves like she was born to dance in shadows. How she took everything dark inside me and turned it into something beautiful. And the way she managed to heal not just me, but my entire family. "Every time she dances in the old studio, I see pieces of Alexandra in her movements."

My mother stands, coming around the desk to place the box in my palm. Her fingers curl around mine, holding on longer than she would have before. "It’s time this belonged to her. Alexandra always said the right dancer would come along—someone who understood that true grace lives in the darkness between movements." She squeezes my hand. "Someone who could bring light back to this family."

The weight of the pendant stays with me throughout the day, a constant reminder of what's to come. But when night falls, and the house grows quiet, I see her creeping down the stairs and into the ballroom. She’s supposed to be sleeping, the first night we’ve spent apart since we came back home all those years ago, but it seems she’s just as restless as I am.

She moves like a shadow given form. Even after five years, watching her dance affects me the same way it did that first time I saw her—unaware of me, lost in her own world, in the school's dance studio.

I make my way down the familiar hall, the photographs on the wall whispering memories as I pass. Each one captures a moment of perfect grace, my grandmother's legacy preserved in gilt frames.

Soft music drifts through the ballroom doors. I push one open, stepping inside just enough to lean against the doorframe, my eyes never leaving her. Moonlight spills through the tall windows, painting her in silver, her black silk slip flowing against her skin. She moves with the same beauty that first made me want to possess her.

I watch from the dark, drinking in each perfect line of her body. The way she gives herself to the music, lost in a world of her own creation. But not lost to me. Never lost to me.

The sight of her makes my blood burn. Makes possession surge through my veins. Makes me want to strip away everything until there's nothing left but what belongs to me.

"Your arabesque needs work," I call out, my voice cutting through the silence.

A smile tugs at her lips, but she doesn't break her routine. "Only because you're distracting me."

I circle the edge of the ballroom, keeping pace with her movements. The shadows play tricks, reminding me of that first night she danced for me. But there's no fear in her now, no desperation to fade into the background. Just fire and grace, the kind that burns everything in its path.

Drawn to her, I step into the light. "My parents gave me something today."

She turns to face me, her movement as fluid as water. I reach into my pocket, pulling out the burgundy box and balancing it on my palm.

"What is it?" Her eyes spark with curiosity as she moves closer.

I lift the necklace free, the delicate ballet shoes catching moonlight. Her breath catches at the sight of the rose gold and diamonds.

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