Big Billionaire (Bigger Alpha’s #1)

Chapter One

Lena

My performance tonight will make or break me.

The air backstage is warm and crowded, heavy with the sharp bite of hairspray and the faint sweetness of rosin dust from the stage.

Layers of tulle brush against my arms as dancers glide past, their whispers mixing with the muted hum of the orchestra.

Somewhere, a pointe shoe squeaks against the floor.

It’s a busy night. One that marks an important milestone in the career of every ballerina in this room.

Tonight is the reason I’ve worked my ass off for the past few weeks.

If I get this performance right, I’ll land the lead role in the Academy’s upcoming seasonal event. It’s my chance to prove I deserve my place here. One wrong move, and I could lose everything—my role, my scholarship, maybe even my future as a ballerina.

A burst of laughter slices through the noise, sharp enough to cut through my hazy thoughts. My stomach drops before I even look.

I know what’s coming.

“…I heard she blew an instructor for the solo,” a high-pitched voice says, dripping with fake sweetness.

“Which one? She’s been working her way through the faculty.”

Another giggle. “Maybe she’ll give you a turn, Lauren.”

I freeze, fingers curling into my tutu, nails pressing half-moons into my palms. I keep my head low, letting my hair shield my face as I glance toward the voices.

Two ballerinas stand by the costume rack, posture perfect, eyes hard and bright with venom.

They’re watching me, waiting for me to flinch, to give them the satisfaction…

I look back to the mirror, pretending to fix a stray strand of hair, but the glass is blurry. My vision’s swimming, my chest clamming up.

It’s almost funny how I went from the Academy’s sweetheart to the punchline of every whisper, all because I dated an idiot. Logan Blackwell.

After I told him I wasn’t ready to sleep with him, he didn’t just break up with me.

That would’ve been too easy. No…he had to scorch the earth on his way out.

He’s been spreading lies about me sleeping with instructors for lead roles.

And rumors that my scholarship was pure nepotism.

It’s not like that even makes any sense—he’s the one whose father owns the school, not me.

But everyone believes his lies.

Three weeks. That’s all it took to lose friends, my self-confidence, and maybe my place here. My life seems to be crumbling around me, unraveling while Logan parades around with some new girl like none of it matters.

I should have seen it coming. There were signs…little things he said, the coldness behind his cocky smirk. But I thought… I don’t know what I thought. That I was a better judge of character. That he was different with me?

I press my fingers together, crossing them unconsciously like I do whenever I’m nervous or excited.

Right now, I’m nervous as hell.

I close my eyes and think of Abby. My twin sister.

She’ll be watching tonight…watching me live a dream that used to be hers too, until hypertrophic cardiomyopathy stole it away.

Suddenly, she couldn’t dance anymore. Or do much of anything except watch from the sidelines.

But one thing never changed—she’s still my biggest fan.

She’s the reason I push harder when I want to quit.

I picture us as kids, twirling barefoot across the living room, laughing until we fell, telling ourselves stories about how our prince would sweep us off our feet and into the sunset. Back then, the world felt big and full of possibilities. Now it feels sharp-edged and ready to cut.

I take another deep breath, squaring my shoulders.

Logan has taken enough from me. He doesn’t get to have tonight.

This night belongs to me. And Abby.

“Clarke,” the stage director calls, peeking through the curtain. “You’re on next. Let’s go.”

I uncross my fingers, inhale, and step toward the light. The moment I step onto the stage, the heat from the lights hits me like a wave. Shadows stretch across the audience, faces blurring into a dark sea. The air out here feels different…charged.

The first notes of the music float into the space, vibrating through the floor into my body.

Then my gaze lands on him.

Logan.

He’s seated in the front row, legs spread carelessly with one arm around a brunette who leans into him like she’s trying to melt into his side. He holds my gaze, his mouth spreading into that slow, deliberate smirk that I used to think was charming.

My stomach knots painfully, but I lock my knees and keep my chin high.

Not tonight.

I search the crowd for something steadier. Someone steadier.

Abby.

She’s three rows back, curled into a cream sweater despite the heat, her long dark hair pouring over one shoulder in a loose braid.

She meets my gaze, her green eyes—so identical to mine—brimming with an enthusiastic pride.

It’s almost like she’s willing her strength into me from her seat.

Her lips tilt into a small, steady smile that immediately anchors my emotions.

I breathe deeper, my chest loosening. This is for her.

The music swells. I let it pull me forward, my body bending and turning, each movement carrying me further from the noise in my head.

Then I lift my gaze again and freeze—for a fraction of a beat.

Because there he is.

Damien Blackwell, founder of Blackwell Academy. And my ex’s father.

He looks as handsome as ever in a dark tailored tux that fits like it was stitched to his body.

The sharp cut of his jaw catches the light when he tilts his head, shadow and definition making him look even more dangerous.

Steel-gray eyes lock on me from across the hall—calm, steady, but so intense it feels like they strip me bare.

His dark hair is slicked back in a way that should make him look untouchable, but all I can think about is how badly I’ve wanted to touch him.

My next step almost falters, but I push through it. Because if there’s one thing more dangerous than dancing in front of the Academy’s panel…it’s dancing under Damien Blackwell’s gaze.