**Chapter Two** **River** My heart races as disbelief grips me. There he is—Jericho Grayson. His presence looms over me, just as strikingly handsome as he was eight years ago, though the boyish charm is now replaced by the sharp, defined features of a man molded by life’s trials. The weight of his reality crashes down on me—he is not a figment of my imagination, but flesh and blood, seated in the VIP balcony, watching me, and it feels like a knife piercing through the fog of my thoughts. A wave of recognition floods through me, heavy and suffocating. It's as if the air around me has turned to lead, and for a moment, I feel anchored to this spot, unable to pull my gaze from those vivid blue eyes that once knew me, once held my heart. The audience below is oblivious, cheering for the showing of Club Edge’s star performer, but I am merely an object of their entertainment, swaying precariously between shock and exposure. My years of performing professionality kick in; I summon every ounce of strength to maintain my poise in the aerial hoop, stretched fully in a split. But the truth is, the cheers echo hollowly in my ears as I wrestle with my cascading emotions. Jericho’s shock mirrors my own, and together we seem to hang in this delicate balance of the past colliding violently with the present. Just when I think I might float away into nothingness, the aerial hoop jerks, gliding once more, severing the thread of connection between us. It’s then that I notice Luc Le Blanche beside him. His eyes flicker to me, recognition igniting the humiliation burning through me. Like an army of fire ants, embarrassment swarms within, and I wonder at the cruelty of fate that brings him here, to witness my fall from grace. It is a disaster beyond words. Here I am, precariously perched at a club I never thought I would lower myself to, and he’s here—my ex and his best friend from high school—thrusting the remnants of my pride into the depths. Seeing my ex, I should be triumphant, should prove myself better than he left me. But how on earth can I? I’m still grappling for ground, just in a different darkness. Before despair can tighten its hold, I force myself to remember my purpose here. I’m doing this for Aunt Gina, the one beacon of light in my life who has always stood by me. The thought of her reignites my will to push Jericho and Luc to the back of my mind, a task easier said than done. His piercing gaze still ignites a fire in my core, stirring old memories I fought to bury. As the performance stretches on—a torturous ten more minutes—the memory of Jericho rushes back in waves. It had been years since I last gazed into those stormy blue eyes, never imagining I’d have to endure this reminder of my past right now, in this low moment. The hoop finally lowers to the stage, and I am met with applause, a sound both sweet and bittersweet. For the past month, I’ve managed to carve a niche here, and according to Penelope, the owner of the club, I’ve made quite an impression. The clapping resonated with echoes of my glory days as a prima ballerina with the Bolshoi Ballet. Those were the days I dreamt of, and the contrast with my current reality deepens the sadness clawing at my heart—a reminder of how far I have fallen. I draw a courteous bow, forcing my thoughts aside. I know I’ve satisfied them, at least for tonight. As I lock my gaze on the now-empty VIP section, I feel a slight adrenaline rush; either Jericho and Luc have left, or they sought to distance themselves from this scene. Relief washes over me, and I exhale a breath I didn’t know I was holding, yet the lead weight remains in my chest. “Hey, River, are you okay?” Zara’s voice slices through the whirlwind of my thoughts. I turn to see her approaching, her vibrant electric blue hair contrasting sharply with her form-fitting catsuit. She’s the club manager, and her genuine concern triggers my instinct to mask my turmoil behind a smile. “I’m fine,” I reply brightly, hoping it sounds convincing. For a fleeting moment, I see the worry flicker in her eyes, but then it’s replaced by the enthusiastic sparkle of appreciation. “You looked like you froze up for a minute up there. I was worried.” “Just a bit lightheaded,” I chuckle, hoping to assuage her concerns. She seems to buy it, and my heart is slightly buoyed by her compliment. “Great, because the crowd was wild for you. Penelope is thrilled. Everyone is obsessed with your performances! They’ve dubbed you the mermaid!” Zara exclaims, genuinely excited. I laugh, brushing the compliment aside. “I get that a lot.” “You should! And the bookings haven’t stopped. You have private parties every night for the rest of the month!” she adds, excitement bubbling over. “That’s fantastic!” My mood lifts even further at the thought of extra income, vital for Aunt Gina. Zara grins, her slender fingers playing with her hair. “I thought it would. You deserve it. Just a heads-up, the next party is the Everton event. Bailey Everton IV can get a little... handsy when he’s had a few too many.” She grimaces, the expression lingering with the weight of undeniable warnings. Tony, the head of security, is keeping an eye out, but still, anxiety curls in my stomach. I glance at my skimpy leotard before shaking off the discomfort. This isn’t the night for weakness. “I’ll be okay,” I assure her, an edge of determination in my voice. “Sure, just be careful,” she says, extending a supportive smile. “You’ve got fifteen minutes to get ready.” I head backstage, my thoughts inevitably returning to Jericho. The sight of him here—a world I never imagined our paths could cross again. This club is a playground for wealthy men, men like Jericho, who could easily manipulate the lives of someone like me. For months after returning to New York, I tried to forget him, yet with each headline featuring the Grayson name, I couldn’t escape the memories. Jericho’s brother Knight’s wedding, then Jericho himself making headlines for a scandal that rocked the Grayson family, igniting those old sparks of memories I couldn’t fully extinguish. By the time I reach the dressing room—a space opulently decorated with ornate mirrors—it feels like a dream. I weave my way past other performers to my little corner, grateful for the sanctuary it offers. Then, my breath halts. Jericho stands by the window, framed by the twinkling city lights. A jolt of shock shoots through me, arresting my thoughts as I freeze in place. The tension in the air feels visceral, as if his very presence holds a magnetic pull, demanding attention. With his back turned, I drink in the sight of him—strong shoulders, the hard angle of his jaw. He seems more imposing than I recall. Turning around, his gaze meets mine, and suddenly, I find myself lost within those endless blue depths. The raw emotions flood back, memories of heartache and betrayal bubbling to the surface, reminding me precisely of why I had buried him in my mind. “I don’t remember you being able to stay quiet for so long,” his voice finally breaks through the silence, deep and resonant. The familiar rasp pulls me back to reality, but I stubbornly cling to my composure. “What are you doing here, Jericho Grayson?” I can’t hide my annoyance, nor the piercing edge of hurt. He furrows his brow. “I could ask you the same.” His eyes narrow slightly. “What are you doing in a place like this, River?” I scoff, pushing back my bitterness. “It’s really none of your business.” “I see,” he replies, jaw tightening. His concern lingers behind his irritation, an unwelcome familiarity that pulls at my remnants of control. “What happened to you?” With defiance simmering beneath my skin, I reply, “I’m working.” My chin lifts as if I can ward off the probing gaze that digs beneath my flesh. “Working?” His eyes linger too long on my attire, moving, assessing with an intensity that ignites an unexpected heat within me. Despite my protests, I feel the old spark, a flame I had tried so hard to extinguish. “Yes, I’m working.” I brace myself, battling against the vulnerability that threatens to shatter my defenses. His voice lowers, wrapping around each word with an unsettling firmness, “You’re dancing in a strip club.” “I do much more than that,” I retort, anger flaring like flames. “You think I worked my butt off to get into Juilliard to end up here? You have no idea how hard I battled to get where I am.” “And yet here you are, in a place like this.” His tone takes on a judgmental edge that stings. “Are you stripping?” I gawk at him, disbelief mixing with anger. “That’s none of your business!” But he is unyielding, pressing further. “Are you stripping here?” Each word digs deeper, panic rising like bile. I grind my teeth, forcing down the rage. “You’re delusional,” I hiss. “I’ve told you it’s none of your concern. My life hasn’t been your business for eight years, and it’s not going to start now.” The audacity of his intrusion infuriates me, yet he remains a generated figure of control—unwilling to yield. I take a deliberate step away, exhaling slowly as I reach for the dress hanging on the rail, my escape route lined with the faint echoes of a once vibrant past I desperately need to leave behind. Ignoring him now feels like a rebellious move of desperation, a reminder of how easily he once commanded my heart. I walk out the door without a glance back—without needing to confront the ghost of the boy I used to love, leaving the weight of the past behind as I focus on the monumental task ahead of me. After all, facing Jericho Grayson is far from my biggest challenge. The dire circumstances surrounding Aunt Gina’s health loom larger than the remnants of my past—her struggles have placed us both on a perilous precipice, and my priority must remain clear: saving her future at all costs. Had I listened to my father’s warnings years ago, perhaps I’d be in a different place, far removed from old heartbreaks. But it’s too late for regret now. Jericho was my first heartbreak—one that altered my path irrevocably and fueled the fire for every decision I made thereafter.