HER SECRET,HIS BETRAYAL

CHAPTER 5

GABRIELLA:

It’s been a week. But the memories of that night still feel like they happened yesterday.The memory still comes back to me sometimes, how she’d practically forced the reason out of me the next morning. “Okay,” she’d said, crossing her arms, “you’re not walking out of here till you tell me why you came banging on my door like the world was ending.”

I remember staring at the floor, clutching the cup of coffee she handed me. “I caught Brad,” I finally muttered. “With someone else.” Her mouth fell open. “You’ve got to be kidding me” “I wish I was.”

She wanted me to stay longer, but I couldn’t. I borrowed her clothes, went to work, and tried to pretend everything was fine. That’s how it’s been for a week now, pretending. Smiling. Dancing. Existing.

That night, when I finally went home, Brad was waiting, drunk, furious, and looking for someone to blame. The moment I walked through the door, his eyes went dark. “Where the hell were you last night?” he slurred, staggering toward me. I dropped my bag by the door. “I did come home. You were too busy with your w***e to notice.” That set him off. His face turned red, the kind of red that comes before the storm. “Watch your mouth,” he growled, his voice deep and slurred. I didn’t. “No,” I snapped. “You don’t get to-”

The slap came faster than I could react. Then another. And another. I stumbled backward, hit the table, pain shooting through my ribs, again. The same ribs that had just started healing. He called me worthless, said I was lucky he could even stand the sight of me. Then he stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls shook. I cried until my throat burned. At some point, I must’ve passed out on the floor, still in my uniform, still shaking.

Now, standing in front of the mirror at Ruby’s, I lift my shirt just a little. Fresh bruises bloom across my skin, purple, angry, cruel reminders of the night before. I swallow hard, forcing the tears back down. I can’t afford to break. Not here. Not now. I pull my shirt back down, fix my hair, and paint on the same smile I wear every night.

I’m Gabriella. One of Inferno’s best dancers. No one needs to know what’s hiding beneath the glitter and lights.

By the time I get to Inferno, the city’s already glowing , streetlights flickering, music pulsing from passing cars, the night stretching long and heavy ahead of me. I push through the back door, greeted by the usual blur of perfume, laughter, and the low thump of bass leaking through the walls.

“Hey, Gabs!” one of the girls calls from the dressing room mirror, waving a mascara wand like a flag. “You’re late again.” “Yeah, traffic,” I lie easily, flashing a tired smile as I move past them. Ava’s sitting by her locker, hair curling perfectly around her shoulders. She looks up, instantly reading more than I want her to. “You okay?” she asks quietly. “You’ve been off all week.” I shrug, pretending to adjust my top. “Just tired.” Her brows knit together. “You sure?”, “Yeah,” I say, forcing a grin. “Promise.” She doesn’t look convinced, but she lets it go, because that’s what friends do when you’re not ready to talk.

Before I can catch my breath, Luis, the club manager, strides in, clapping his hands once. “Gabriella!” His voice cuts through the chatter. “Just the woman I wanted to see.” I turn, startled. “Yeah?” He grins, slick and proud. “You’ve been pulling in good numbers lately. The crowd loves you, they keep coming back for you.” He waves an envelope between his fingers. “So, a little bonus for my star performer.” I blink, caught between surprise and gratitude. “Thanks, Luis. I… I appreciate it.” He winks. “Keep it up, chica. You’re the best thing this place has.” When he’s gone, Ava leans close with a smirk. “See? Told you those hips were paying rent.” I roll my eyes but can’t help a small laugh. “Guess so.”

An hour later, the lights dim, the music shifts, and it’s my turn. The stage is a blur of red and gold as I step into the spotlight. The crowd erupts, whistles, cheers, dollar bills flashing in the glow. I move like I’ve done this a thousand times, slow, fluid, controlled. Every spin, every sway is deliberate. Up here, I don’t think. I don’t feel. I just move. But somewhere in the middle of the song, something changes. The air shifts. My skin prickles. I can feel someone watching, not like the others, not hungry or loud, but focused. Steady. It makes my pulse trip for a second, my rhythm almost falters before I pull it back.

When the song ends, I bow, smile, and slip offstage into the haze of perfume and sweat. My heart’s still racing, though I can’t say why. I barely make it past the curtain when Luis finds me again. “Hey, superstar,” he says, his grin wide. “Got a special request for you.” I frown. “A request?” He nods. “Private room. Guy paid big money. Asked for you specifically.” My stomach tightens. “Did he say who he was?” Luis shakes his head. “Didn’t ask. Just dropped the cash and said your name. Go make me proud, huh?” I nod stiffly, forcing a calm I don’t feel. I head to the back, swap my outfit for something slower, silkier. My hands tremble as I adjust the strap, though I can’t explain why.

The hallway to the private rooms is quiet, the bass fading behind me. My heels click softly on the floor, echoing too loud in the stillness. I open the door. And then, my breath stops. Gray eyes. Cold, calm, familiar. The same eyes that watched me from across a diner table a week ago.

For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. The noise, the lights, the world outside, it all disappears. Just him. And me. And the kind of silence that feels like it’s about to change everything.