Chapter 22: Chapter 20: Argument

It was Isla Prescott’s first day of work, and although she hadn’t done a thing, she was inexplicably excited the entire day.

She loved everything about the dance troupe—from the food in the small cafeteria to the stray cat in the garden.

When it was time to clock out, Isla Prescott went to the tuck shop, bought a few fish sausages, and returned to the garden to feed the cat.

She had just torn open the wrapper on a fish sausage when she heard footsteps. Peeking past the flowerbed, she saw Annabelle Leighton walking shoulder-to-shoulder with a man toward the parking lot.

The man’s back was to her, but his refined and imposing figure seemed somewhat familiar.

“That’s Young Mr. Shaw of the Sterling Group.”

Yara Jennings appeared out of nowhere, startling both Isla Prescott and the cat.

“Do you ever make a sound when you walk?”

“You’re the one who was staring so intently,” Yara Jennings said, crouching down in front of Isla Prescott. “But Young Mr. Shaw really is handsome. He just stood at the door of the rehearsal hall for a moment, and not a single person could focus on their dancing. Everyone’s so jealous of Annabelle Leighton for finding a boyfriend who’s rich, powerful, and good-looking.”

“They’re dating?”

“What else would it be? If they weren’t in the honeymoon phase, would Young Mr. Shaw personally come pick her up from work?”

Isla Prescott gently stroked the kitten’s head, saying nothing. But deep down, she had to admit they were a good match. ’In terms of both family background and looks, Annabelle Leighton and Shane Sterling are equals. Besides, Shane Sterling was cheated on. A new relationship means he’s moved on, which is a good thing.’

She went back to feeding the cat, not looking in Shane Sterling and Annabelle Leighton’s direction again.

For the next three days, Isla Prescott was on a high, practically buzzing with energy. Even though there were no show rehearsals yet, she was filled with passion as she practiced her fundamentals in the dance studio.

On Wednesday morning, the troupe leader, Wendy Bell, came to find her. She said the Aevis Group’s anniversary celebration was coming up, and the troupe needed to prepare a performance for their headquarters. Wendy wanted to make Isla the lead dancer and told her to keep her evening free so she could take her to meet the artistic director and discuss the choreography.

From Wendy Bell’s choice of words, Isla Prescott could feel how much she was valued. Her future felt brighter than ever, and her motivation soared.

However, before evening came, Wendy Bell sent someone to inform her that the meeting had been canceled.

Isla Prescott just assumed the meeting had been rescheduled and didn’t think much of it until Yara Jennings told her at the end of the day that Annabelle Leighton had snatched the opportunity Wendy Bell had intended for her.

“Annabelle Leighton said that since you’re a newcomer, you aren’t capable of handling such an important performance. She insisted on recommending one of her own people to choreograph the company’s anniversary number instead.”

It was as if a roaring fire had been doused with cold water; Isla Prescott felt a wave of disappointment she couldn’t hide.

“I told you, Annabelle Leighton is completely overbearing. She gets a kick out of snatching opportunities from newcomers. Even though my cousin is the troupe leader, Annabelle always has her under her thumb. With someone like that standing in the way, it’s hard for us newcomers to get a chance to shine.”

Isla Prescott could tell Yara Jennings was just adding fuel to the fire, but this time, Annabelle Leighton had truly trampled on her personal interests. ’I worked so hard to get into this dance troupe, hoping for long-term growth and a chance to climb the ladder. If Annabelle is always going to hold me down, how am I supposed to stay passionate and hopeful about my work?’

Just then, Annabelle Leighton emerged from the main entrance.

Her resentment boiling over, Isla Prescott stormed straight toward Annabelle Leighton.

“Miss Leighton!”

Annabelle Leighton had just reached a pink Maserati when she heard her name and turned around.

“What is it?”

“The company’s anniversary performance—how can you, Miss Leighton, declare that I’m not capable when you don’t even know what I can do?” Feeling she was on solid ground, Isla Prescott’s voice was full of righteous fire.

Annabelle Leighton sized her up with a pair of bright, alluring eyes. “You must be the newcomer, Isla Prescott.”

“Yes. I’m Isla Prescott.”

“Well, this is a first. You’re the first newcomer who’s ever dared to confront me to my face.”

“You’re the heiress of the Leighton Family. No one dares to cross you.”

“And yet, you seem to be daring enough.”

Just as Isla Prescott was about to retort, the Maserati’s window rolled down. Shane Sterling poked his head out, a look of lazy confusion on his face.

“Sorry to interrupt, but… are you two about to fight?”

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