Chapter 4 - The Anonymous Benefactor
Zoe spun around, her heart hammering against her ribs. Standing behind her was a tall, sharp-featured man in an expensive charcoal suit that looked entirely out of place in a sweaty dance studio. His hair was peppered with grey at the temples, and his cold, calculating eyes scanned Zoe up and down with clinical detachment.
"Who are you?" Zoe demanded, stepping back and putting her gym bag between them. "How did you get in here? This is a private facility."
"Relax, Zoe," the man said smoothly, his voice dropping into an easy, practiced cadence. He flashed a brief, humorless smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I’m just an interested observer. A patron of the arts, you might say. I watch a lot of rehearsals in this building."
"You know my name," Zoe stated, her suspicion hardening. "What do you want?"
The man glanced toward the closed office door where Coach Vance was still frantically whispering into her phone. He took a slow step closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial murmur.
"I know a lot more than your name," he said, reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket. "I know that your tuition for this academy isn't actually covered by a corporate scholarship. I know your mother works two jobs across town just to pay for your pointe shoes."
Zoe’s breath caught in her throat. A cold chill crept down her spine. "Stay away from my family."
"I’m not a threat, Zoe. I’m an opportunity," the man replied calmly, pulling a crisp, white envelope from his pocket and sliding it effortlessly onto the ballet barre beside her. "Open that when you get home. It contains the digital logs of every computer in this academy, including the exact keystrokes that altered Maya’s score sheet last night."
Zoe stared at the envelope, her hand hovering inches away. "Why are you giving this to me? What’s your angle?"
"Let’s just say I have a vested interest in seeing true talent triumph over corporate corruption," the man said, turning toward the exit with smooth, deliberate strides. "Oh, and Zoe? Be careful who you trust. Coach Vance isn't the one pulling the strings."
Before Zoe could ask another question, the man pushed open the heavy studio doors and vanished into the evening rain.
Inside the office, the door clicked open, and Coach Vance stepped out, looking pale and flustered. She locked eyes with Zoe, who was now standing right beside the barre with her hand resting on the white envelope.
May you like
"What was Mr. Sterling doing in here?" Coach Vance demanded sharply, pointing a trembling finger toward the empty exit.
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