Lena liked the instructor immediately for that last sentence.
Caroline continued, looking directly at Charles. "She needs a real childhood, Mr. Whitmore. If you take that away from her to satisfy a narrative, the dance will go right along with it."
Mercer nodded in approval. "That aligns perfectly with the legal framework we've mapped out."
Charles looked at Annie. "Do you want to do this, Annie? It is going to require a lot of daily work."
Annie nodded, her chin up. "I told you. I like work."
Caroline smiled slightly at that—the first real crack in her professional mask. "Yes," she said softly to herself. "You probably do."
After the evaluation concluded, Caroline spoke privately with Lena near the mirrors while the men waited by the door. "I want to be entirely clear with you, Mrs. Bell. Talent like your daughter's attracts immense attention. And attention attracts people who want to extract value from a story. My sole job is to teach her how to dance, not to sell a headline. If at any point this framework becomes more about publicity than about her actual development, I will walk away from the contract. And you should, too."
Lena held her gaze steadily. "You're the first person in this building who has said that to me without a polite smile."
"I'm not here to smile, Mrs. Bell," Caroline replied cleanly. "I'm here to build dancers."
---
When they left the studio that afternoon, Annie was quiet again, holding Lena's hand with both of hers as they walked toward the transit stop.
"What's running through your head, baby?" Lena asked.
Annie looked up, her eyes clear. "She wasn't looking at my dress, Mama."