1980s. A tragic death. A stolen future. Wendy Levine's story didn't end there. Reborn with a passion that burns even brighter, she remembers the betrayal but not the how. Now, she's creating like never before, crafting dances that are uniquely and unquestionably hers. As she steps back into the spotlight, the shadow of Queenie Quinn looms. How far will Wendy go to reveal the truth she can't even fully remember?

I married him for stability, not love. He needed a mother for his daughter. I needed a roof. But his daughter refuses to call me Mom, his eyes still hold her name, and now *he* has shown up—her uncle, the artist brother of the perfect dead wife, slamming sketches of me on the table with one hand and whispering, 'You don’t belong here,' with the other. This house breathes memories I can’t erase.