A Vow of Deception, A Vow of Revenge novel Chapter 43

Back then, everyone had just been joking when they called her that. Winona never took the title to heart.

What really mattered—what kept her up at night—was the simple, brutal truth that she could never dance again.

Now, the comment section beneath the video was a riot of rainbow emojis and breathless admiration.

"She's so beautiful! How can anyone dance like that?"

"Her control is insane! That grace! If I practice for another ten years, could I ever reach this level?"

"My mom just asked why I'm watching this video on my knees."

"No wonder she's the new queen of dance!"

"Wait, queen? Wasn't Winona the one everyone used to call that?"

"Winona! I remember her too! She was incredible!"

"Oh, please. How long has it been since Winona danced? Celia's the queen now, everyone knows that."

"Yeah, I haven't seen Winona perform in ages. Wasn't it her who took the gold at that international competition with ‘Nocturne of the Eternal Night'?"

"That's right! Honestly, the girl in this video is amazing, but compared to Winona back then… it's just not the same."

"You're just biased! Celia's dancing leaves Winona in the dust."

"Ha, cripples should just quit the stage."

"Crippled? Wait, is Winona actually injured?"

The sharp scent of antiseptic suddenly filled Winona's nose, stinging and suffocating. She stared at the screen, at Celia's radiant, triumphant smile, and the roar of that rain-soaked night—the crash that ruined everything—echoed in her mind.

Her right leg began to throb, a ghost of pain she could never fully forget.

She would never again dance her favorite piece, never feel weightless in the music. And the person responsible for taking that away from her was now flaunting it—dancing her signature piece, posting it for the world, basking in praise that should have been hers.

She drew in a shaky breath and, when she spoke again, her tone was measured, controlled. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were here. I lost my composure."

"There's no need to apologize," Elvis replied, carefully setting the lilies in a vase beside her. "And for the record, I don't think you lost your composure at all."

He took a seat by her side, his eyes steady and kind. "Miss Thorne, we've been through a lot together. If you ever want to talk about what's on your mind, I hope you'll share it with me. You don't have to carry it alone. Of course, only if you're willing."

A bittersweet ache welled up in Winona's chest.

Her secrets… Could she really tell Elvis?

Yes. She realized that now—Elvis had become someone she could trust.

"Mr. Rogers," Winona whispered, her lips trembling. "I used to love dancing. Truly love it."

Her gaze dropped to her right leg.

"My mother… she was an extraordinary dancer. She started teaching me as soon as I could walk. She always said I had talent, and a passion for dance. She believed I'd grow up to be even better than she was."