Chapter 104
The ballroom went dead silent.
Every head turned toward Allegra. A few of the elderly judges frowned.
Allegra's pupils contracted slightly.
She felt those stares like countless needles stabbing her from every direction, making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.
But her face gave nothing away.
"Mr. Morgan, of course this piece is my own design. From concept to sketch, from sketch to final draft—every single line was drawn by my own hand. I don't know why you're asking, but I have a clear conscience about my work."
Her voice stayed steady. Each word came out crisp and clear.
A few people in the audience nodded, murmuring to each other.
"Yeah, she already won the award. How could it not be her own design?"
"Did Mr. Morgan get it wrong?"
"So many judges reviewed it. There couldn't be a problem, right?"
Ollie ignored the chatter, his gaze still locked on Allegra's face. "Ms. Wipere, the wings in this piece—the design style and technique are extremely distinctive. I saw a sketch in this exact style three years ago in Amy's studio. Can you explain why your design so closely resembles Amy's draft?"
Allegra's heart clenched violently.
Amy.
Of course she knew that name.
The absolute pinnacle of jewelry design. The woman they called 'the industry ceiling.'
Every one of her pieces was a masterwork. Her design style was so unique that no one in the industry could imitate it.
That half-finished sketch she'd stolen from Lucinda's room—those wings—they were Amy's work?
Her mind raced.
Impossible.
There was no way Lucinda could be Amy.
Amy was an internationally renowned design master. Her work spanned the globe. Any single piece was worth tens of millions of dollars.
And Lucinda? Just some bastard child the Wipere family had thrown out. A hick who grew up in the sticks and couldn't even afford decent jewelry.
She absolutely could not be Amy.
Allegra straightened her spine even more. Her smile didn't waver for a second. "Mr. Morgan, I don't know what you're talking about. This piece was drawn by me. Every line is my original creation. If you think it resembles some master's work, then I can only say I'm honored. Being compared to Amy means my work truly has merit."
The audience murmured again, louder this time.
"She's got a point. Design is like that—inspiration overlaps happen all the time."
"But Mr. Morgan's a veteran in the field. He wouldn't ask this for no reason."
"Is there really something wrong?"
Ollie's frown deepened.
He took a deep breath and turned around. His gaze swept past everyone in the audience and landed on a figure in deep blue seated in the VIP section.
"Amy." His voice rose several notches, carrying genuine reverence. "The wings in this piece are clearly from that sketch you casually drew three years ago. You're the only one who can really speak to this. Would you please come to the stage and be our witness?"
The ballroom exploded.
"Amy? Amy is here tonight?"
"Oh my God, the jewelry design legend? Every one of her pieces is priceless!"
"Where? Where is she?"
Everyone's eyes followed Ollie's gaze.
In the corner of the VIP section, Lucinda sat leaning back in her chair, phone in hand, game still on the screen.
When she heard Ollie call that name, her finger paused briefly. Then she looked up.
The light fell across her face.
Deep blue gown. Long hair over her shoulders. Cool, calm eyes. Unhurried expression.
She sat there like still water. All those eyes hitting her at once didn't cause a single ripple.
Allegra whipped her head around, following Ollie's line of sight.
Her pupils dilated violently.
She watched Lucinda stand up.
The deep blue fabric shimmered softly under the lights. Lucinda moved without hurry, crossing the VIP section, stepping onto the stage, standing beside Ollie.
The host's mouth fell open. It stayed that way for a long moment.
Someone in the crowd gasped. Another person nearly dropped their wine glass. Someone else's mouth formed a perfect O and didn't close.
"That woman… is Amy?"
"No way. She looks barely twenty!"
"But Mr. Morgan personally invited her onstage. How could it be fake?"
Allegra's head felt like someone had shaken it violently. A buzzing filled her ears.
Her lips trembled. Color drained from her face bit by bit until she looked almost transparent.
Impossible.
Absolutely impossible!
How could Lucinda be Amy?
That bastard the Wipere family had raised for twenty years. That hick who grew up in the middle of nowhere. That broke nobody who couldn't even afford decent clothes.
How could she be an internationally renowned design master?
Allegra shot to her feet. Her chair scraped backward with a screech.
"Mr. Morgan!" Her voice pitched up several octaves, shrill as nails on glass. "You can't lie like this just because you've got some shady relationship with this woman! She's not Amy. She's just a worthless bastard!"
The room erupted.
Ollie's expression turned ice-cold. His gaze could have frozen water. "Ms. Wipere, watch your words. Amy is the industry's top master. She's someone I—and everyone in this field—respects deeply. Her talent, her work, her standing in the industry cannot be dismissed by a few careless words from you."
Allegra stood there, chest heaving violently, eyes red-rimmed, voice growing louder and shriller. "Mr. Morgan, don't let her fool you! She mooched off the Wipere family for twenty years. After we kicked her out, she couldn't handle being poor, so she started latching onto sugar daddies left and right. You're just one of her many sponsors! Don't fall for her looks—she's just using that face to scam people wherever she goes—"
The crowd went wild.
"Is that true? She's hooking up with sponsors everywhere?"
"Mr. Morgan's involved with her too? No way..."
"Look at that face. She is gorgeous. Maybe it's not impossible."
The murmurs spread like wildfire.
People set down their glasses. Others craned their necks forward, phones held high, desperate to capture every frame.