False Fates
Skyler wrapped her in a hug that smelled of hairspray and stage perfume.
“You killed it,” she whispered into her ear. “I told you. You were made for that stage.”
Aurora couldn’t speak. She only smiled, dazed, alive in a way she’d never felt before.
Then Vanessa appeared, clipboard in hand, her heels sharp against the floor.
“Aurora,” she said, voice smooth but direct. “We have a… unique request.”
Aurora turned, grounding herself. “What kind of request?”
“Kyram Vladimir,” Vanessa said quietly, “wants a private word with you. He’s paying ten grand for five minutes. Alone. No touching. No dancing. Just… a word.”
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