Chapter Six Anya
The words terrify me, but at the same time, they give me hope.
A lead isn’t confirmation that Alexi is still alive, but it’s something.
I stare at the screen for several minutes, pondering how to respond.
Do I tell NOLAKING about my problems? I want to tell someone.
However, instead of laying my woes at a stranger's feet, I thank him for the update and sign off. Tossing my laptop on the bed, I stand and pace my room. My anxiety is high, but I don’t know what to do to calm myself.
I want to run out the door and keep on running, but that won’t solve anything.
Flopping back onto the bed, I stare at the ceiling and force myself to think happy thoughts.
I select the score for Sleeping Beauty and picture myself performing in the role of the Lilac Fairy.
However, rather than distracting me, my mind conjures up the image of my father’s face when he tells me how I will be marrying the man he chooses to take Alexi’s position.
Disgusted, I grab a pillow so I can scream into it.
Why is this happening to me? Father’s decision replays in my mind, his voice calm and final as he explained the need for a replacement for Alexi.
Someone strong. Someone loyal. Someone who could take the reins and ensure the company’s future.
I understand that part. Stepanov Industries isn’t just a business; it’s an empire, one built over decades. He wants to protect it.
What I don’t understand is why protecting it requires my sacrifice.
The truth settles heavily in my chest as I lie back against the pillows.
My father’s decision isn’t just about finding a capable man to run the company.
It’s about finding a husband for me. A man chosen not for love or compatibility, but for his usefulness.
A man who will give Father heirs—my children—who will inherit the company and keep it firmly in Stepanov blood.
As if my body is nothing more than a vessel for succession.
My dreams feel small and fragile in the face of that realization. Ballet, freedom, choosing my own future—none of it seems to matter when weighed against bloodlines and boardrooms. My father groomed Alexi to lead because he has a penis. He groomed me to comply because I have a vagina.
Anger tightens my throat, but beneath it is something worse: hurt. Father has always said he loves me, that everything he does is for my protection. But how can this be protection when it erases who I am?
I turn my face into the pillow, blinking back frustrated tears. I don’t want a life decided by contracts and expectations. I don’t want to marry a stranger for the sake of an inheritance. I want my dreams to matter just as much as Stepanov Industries ever has.
And for the first time, I wonder what will happen if I decide they do.
A tap on my door distracts me from my thoughts. When I open it, I’m surprised to find my friend Skylar on the other side.
She pulls me in for a hug as she bounces into the room. “I just heard the news! What are you doing sitting here? Let’s go out and celebrate!”
I stare at her, dumbfounded as I try to process her words. Why would I want to go out and celebrate the end of my life as I know it?
“The Lilac Fairy! I’m so proud of you for getting the part. You’ll be perfect at it. We must go out and celebrate. I know just the place,” Skylar gushes, her voice muffled as she calls out from my closet. “You must have something in here that you can wear.”
I sit on the bed, watching Skylar paw through my clothes.
Her short black hair frames her elfin features, making her look exotic.
The red dress she’s wearing clings to every curve and shows off her toned arms and legs to perfection.
She’s fit as a dancer and just as graceful, although she claims she’s too uncoordinated to do what I do.
I have my doubts, but I’ve never pushed her.
When she starts tossing clothes at me, I catch them and lay them on the bed as I wait for her to give me her attention.
Finally, she steps out of the closet and glares at me.
“Get dressed, we’re going out to celebrate!”
“What are we celebrating?” I ask her.
“What do you mean? We’re celebrating that you got the role of the Lilac Fairy.”
“How do you know?”
“I stopped by the school to see if you were still practicing. I saw the announcement on the board. I’ve tried calling you, but you didn’t pick up. I figured you were hiding out here, so I came to drag you out. You’ve worked hard for this; you need to celebrate. Now, let's get you dressed.”
Skylar pulls me to my feet before grabbing the hangers and holding each dress against me.
When she gets to the slinky silk number in a pretty purple, she crows in triumph.
“This is the one. It’s almost the color of lilacs, what could be more fitting?
Now, put it on while I find shoes. We’re going dancing, and we’re going to drink champagne. ”
I shake my head as I do as she tells me.
I know from experience that there is no telling Skylar Prince no.
The woman entered my life like a runaway train, and I’ve been scrambling to keep up with her ever since.
I don’t know very much about her, except that she’s an American who is visiting Russia to film segments for her Podcast and YouTube channels.
She’s an influencer who focuses on travel and providing safety tips for women who enjoy travelling alone.
We ran into each other one night after I was leaving practice.
Skylar was excited about meeting a real Russian ballerina, and I was excited to meet an American. We’ve been inseparable ever since.
Once I change my clothes, I take a few minutes to apply some makeup and pull up my hair into a messy bun. Skylar stands behind me to pull out some tendrils to soften my look. “Absolutely stunning. You’re going to have the boys chasing after you all night.”
I try to ignore the pain in my chest at her words, but she must see the change in my expression. She frowns at me as she places her hands on my shoulders. “What’s wrong? Why do you look so sad?”
I grasp her hand and squeeze it. “I’ll tell you later. You’re right. I need to get out of here and do something fun for a change. Let’s go.”
I don’t tell my father I’m leaving. He probably wouldn’t refuse to let me go, but I don’t want to give him the opportunity. We quietly make our way downstairs and out the front door without anyone noticing. Skylar has a cab waiting for us. Once we slip inside, she turns expectantly to me.
“Not here,” I whisper, before raising my voice.
“Let me tell you about my day.” For the drive, I tell her all about how disappointed I was not to get the part of Aurora, and then how I learned I won the part of the Lilac Fairy.
I explain the importance of the role and how eager I am to deliver my best performance.
“You’re going to be spectacular. I’ve seen you practice. You’ll steal the show,” Skylar gushes. “This is what you’ve always wanted. The scouts will love your performance and offer you a chance to tour with them. I know that’s your ultimate goal. It’s happening for you, and I couldn’t be happier.”
“Maybe,” I hedge. “I need to get through training and then hope for the best.”
The bass hits me first, a physical thing that vibrates through my chest as Skylar and I step out of the car and into the humid night.
A line snakes down the sidewalk, bodies pressed close together, voices raised over the music pounding from inside the nightclub.
I slow instinctively, already bracing myself for the wait.
We don’t stop.
The bouncer’s eyes flick over us and then settle on Skylar. His posture changes immediately, rope lifting as if by reflex. “Go on in,” he says, stepping aside.
I glance at Skylar as we pass, half expecting her to smirk. Of course, he recognizes her. Skylar has that kind of presence—the kind people remember. I’m just the girl beside her, swept along in her wake.
Inside, the world explodes into color and sound.
Strobing lights flash blue, purple, and white, cutting through a haze of smoke.
The air is thick with perfume, sweat, and alcohol.
Bodies move everywhere—young, beautiful people packed together, dancing, laughing, shouting into each other’s ears.
It’s overwhelming and exhilarating all at once.
Skylar laces her fingers through mine before I can hesitate. “Come on,” she says, already pulling me forward.
I let her lead me through the crowd, past the dance floor, and toward a shadowed corner where a small table waits as if it’s been reserved just for us.
We slide into the booth, the leather cool against my skin.
A waiter appears almost instantly, and Skylar orders champagne without even glancing at me, knowing I won’t object.
When the bottle arrives, and the glasses are poured, Skylar lifts hers but doesn’t drink. Instead, she turns fully toward me, hazel-green eyes sharp and searching.
“Okay,” she says, skipping any pretense. “Enough pretending. Why aren’t you floating on cloud nine?”
The music pounds around us, people cheering nearby, but suddenly it feels like it’s just the two of us. I stare down into the bubbles rising in my glass, my smile slipping before I can stop it.
Because everything looks perfect from the outside, and nothing feels right on the inside.