Chapter 4

All the photos zoomed in on the ring on Lilianna's finger.

The party was massive, and practically every big name in town showed up.

I saw the pictures in the news. Lilianna was dressed in a white tulle dress, smiling like a princess. Elliot was right beside her, his eyes full of warmth.

Every shot was centered on the ring on Lilianna's finger.

That was the Stars ring I'd designed myself.

The pink diamond sparkled brilliantly under the lights.

Tabloids went wild with their headlines. [Harris Group CEO Spends Big on His Love. Is a Proposal in the Works?]

I looked at the photo, feeling nothing at all.

I just thought the ring looked ugly on her.

It wasn't the ring that was ugly, but her.

*****

The day after the birthday party, a bombshell hit the jewelry world.

Famous designer Lilianna Delaney was accused of plagiarism.

Someone dug up one of her old award-winning pieces and found it looked strikingly similar to a design by some unknown designer overseas.

Suddenly, the internet went wild.

Lilianna had always been known as a genius prodigy, but now her image was completely shattered.

She quickly put out a statement, saying it was just "borrowing", just a spark of inspiration, nothing more.

But nobody online was buying it.

It didn't take long for people to dig up even more. Turned out, this wasn't the first time. Over the years, plenty of her so-called masterpieces had obvious traces of other designers' work.

When someone was down, everyone jumped in to kick them.

Lilianna's scandals were snowballing, getting bigger and messier by the minute.

The Harris Group got caught up in the scandal too, since Lilianna was their so-called "featured art consultant."

The stock price dropped like a stone.

I watched the drama unfold, taking my time with my coffee.

That was right.

I was the one who dropped the first bomb.

Those so-called "overseas designer" pieces? They were actually my college practice sketches. I'd posted them anonymously on some obscure forums back then.

I had always known Lilianna was just copying my style.

Honestly, she had been stealing everything that made me who I was since college.

She took my designs to win awards, used my ideas to charm Elliot, and step by step, became his obsession.

And me? I ended up as nothing more than a meaningless mark in the shadows.

Back then, I didn't care because I loved Elliot. As long as he was happy, that was all that mattered to me.

But now, I didn't love him anymore.

So now, everything that was taken from me, I would make sure it was returned, one by one.

I was not a good person.

I was just an ordinary person who had done putting up with being wronged.

Elliot called me right away.

He sounded exhausted and furious.

"Was this your doing?" he asked, cutting straight to the chase.

"What are you talking about?" I pretended not to know, even though I was fully aware what he meant.

"Lilianna's scandal!" Elliot practically shouted. "Maggie, when did you get so damn cruel?"

Cruel?

I laughed.

"Elliot, compared to you and Lilianna, my little tricks are nothing," I shot back.

"What do you really want?" he pressed.

"Isn't what I want already written in the divorce agreement?" I said. "Just sign it, and we'll be even."

"Not a chance!" he gritted out. "I won't let you get away with this!"

"Oh, really?" I chuckled. "Then you'd better hurry up and cover for Lilianna. Otherwise, your company might be the next thing blowing up online."

With that, I hung up.

I knew I'd really pissed him off.

But so what? I was never going to look back.

This fight was just getting started.

Elliot's company was drowning in a PR nightmare like never before.

Lilianna's plagiarism scandal was a black hole, sucking the company's reputation dry, piece by piece.

He was running himself ragged, crashing at the office night after night.

As for my collaboration with Issac, everything was going surprisingly well.

We met up at a café. Issac was even gentler in person than he looked in his photos. He wore a simple white shirt, his fingers were clean and slender, and there was a faint woody scent lingering around him.

He regarded me with genuine admiration and respect.

"Ms. Holt," he said, "your designs have a powerful sense of vitality. I'm really curious what kind of person could create work like this."

I smiled. "Just someone who's barely hanging on, squeezed dry by life."

He was caught off guard for a second, then broke into a smile.

"That's just right," he said. "What we do best is give designers the oxygen they need to thrive."

We hit it off right away.

I joined Issac's company as a technical partner, and together, we launched my own independent brand.