"The crowd turned."
Silver stood frozen in the middle of the dance floor, Carroway's words still echoing through the suddenly silent room.
Valentina Sokolova. Bronze medalist. Olympic failure.
Her throat closed. Her hands went numb. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but her feet wouldn't move. She was trapped in the spotlight of everyone's attention, their stares burning into her skin like brands.
Someone's phone flashed. A photo. Then another. And another.
"Is that really her?" The whisper came from somewhere to her left.
"Holy shit, I remember that performance. The triple axel fall."
"Didn't her coach get banned?"
"She looks so different now. The hair—"
"Wait, she's been here the whole time and no one knew?"
The voices overlapped, building on each other. Not quite loud but impossible to ignore. Silver felt each word like a physical blow.
Maya was still holding her arm, but even that touch felt wrong now. Suffocating. She jerked away, her breath coming too fast.
