Leonardo chuckled. “Don’t be cruel. Maybe she’s saving for better clothes.”
A guard murmured that she could leave.
The exit stood open.
Sofia looked at it… then turned back.
“No,” she said clearly. “I’ll dance.”
Leonardo smirked. “Then take that apron off.”
She untied it. Let it fall.
Comments rained down.
Leonardo offered his jacket. She refused.
She slipped off her worn shoes and stepped barefoot onto the marble.
“What are you doing?” he scoffed. “Ballerinas don’t dance barefoot.”
“Neither do men who understand ballet,” she replied calmly.
Camila recoiled. “Look at her feet. Disgusting.”
Leonardo took a photo. Flash.
The music accelerated—a brutal tempo.
Sofia’s legs shook.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
Camila laughed. “I knew it.”
Leonardo raised his glass. “Fifty thousand—and she quits before starting.”
“I just need a minute,” Sofia said.
Leonardo pretended to consider.
“One minute. New terms: one hundred thousand if you’re perfect. One mistake—you owe me one thousand.”
Her heart sank.
“I don’t have that.”
“Then don’t fail.”
The room watched like a courtroom.
“I accept,” she said—not for money, but because retreat would break her more.
She stepped forward.
Then doubt crushed her.