Chapter 107
Gemma shot to her feet, her face flushed crimson, her voice shrill. "Lucinda! You installed surveillance cameras in the house? Do you have any humanity? That's our home! What gives you the right—"
Lucinda stood onstage, looking at her, her gaze calm. "I originally installed the cameras to monitor your condition remotely. To observe your health from a distance. I spent over a hundred thousand dollars on the most advanced system available, covering every corner of the house."
She paused, her lips curving slightly—a smile devoid of warmth. "I never imagined the first time they'd be useful would be to catch a thief."
Gemma's mouth hung open, her expression shifting from rage to embarrassment.
Her lips trembled several times before she squeezed out a sentence. "You... you spent so much of the Wipere family's money learning design, and now you turn around and attack us? Do you have no conscience?"
Lucinda looked at her and suddenly laughed. "Spent how much of the Wipere family's money? Gemma, in front of everyone here, say a number."
Gemma opened her mouth, her voice faltering. "You... everything you ate and drank came from the Wipere family—"
"Tuition?" Lucinda cut her off, her voice level, every word clear. "I spent twenty years with the Wipere family. Did you ever pay my tuition once? From childhood to now, all my tuition, living expenses, allowance combined—less than thirty thousand dollars. Do you need me to print out bank statements and verify this in front of everyone?"
Gemma's face went from red to white, then from white to gray-green.
She couldn't speak.
Because she knew Lucinda was telling the truth.
The audience's gaze slowly shifted from Allegra to Gemma, then back to the stage.
No one spoke, but that silence was more damning than any accusation.
Ollie walked to the microphone, his voice steady.
"By unanimous decision of the competition's judging committee, Ms. Allegra Wipere's second-place award is hereby revoked. The trophy and certificate will be reclaimed. Additionally, the Jewelry Design Association will issue an industry-wide announcement permanently banning Allegra from the design community. Plagiarizing others' work, maliciously slandering industry veterans, demonstrating zero professional competence in a live competition—any one of these is sufficient grounds."
Allegra's legs gave out completely.
She collapsed to the floor, her red gown pooling around her.
Her eyes stared vacantly ahead, her mouth slightly open.
Marshall stood beside his seat, his face ashen.
He looked at Allegra crumpled on the floor, then lifted his head. His gaze landed on that figure in deep blue on the stage.
She stood there, the deep blue fabric shimmering with a cool luster under the lights. Her serene eyes, unhurried expression—her entire being radiated a confidence and composure that made it hard to look directly at her.
He'd seen her many times before.
But never like this—never so beautiful it made his chest ache.
His Adam's apple bobbed. His fingers unconsciously clenched.
Then he lowered his head and looked at Allegra collapsed on the floor. Disappointment thick and heavy filled his eyes.
"Marshall... Marshall, please help me..." Allegra reached out, trying to grab the hem of his pants.
Marshall stepped back.
His lips moved, as if to say something, but in the end, he said nothing. He turned and strode toward the exit, never looking back.
Allegra's hand froze in midair, grasping at nothing.
Her tears finally broke through, falling in heavy drops onto the floor.
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I was wrong..." She knelt on the floor, facing the stage, her voice broken. "Lucinda... no, Ms. Amy... I was wrong... I shouldn't have stolen your design. I shouldn't have spread lies about you... Please forgive me this once... Please... I don't want to be banned... I still need to work in this industry..."
She spoke haltingly, her forehead nearly touching the ground.
Lucinda stood onstage, looking down at her.
Her gaze was calm.
"Stand up."
Her voice was flat.
Allegra froze, lifted her head, and looked up at her through tear-blurred eyes.
"I accept your apology. But the industry association has its rules. They're not mine to change. Do what you will."
Allegra's lips trembled. She wanted to say more, but Lucinda had already turned away, no longer looking at her.
Someone in the audience began to clap.
Then a young girl burst from the crowd.
She wore a white dress, her hair in a high ponytail. She ran to the edge of the stage, holding a notebook and pen in both hands. "Ms. Amy! I'm your fan! I've loved your work since high school! Could you sign this for me?"
Lucinda glanced down at her, her lips curving slightly. "Sure."
She took the notebook and pen, opened to the first page, and signed the name "Amy" in slender, neat script.
The young girl clutched the notebook to her chest and jumped up and down with excitement.
Then a second person rushed forward. A third. A fourth.
Soon a crowd surrounded the edge of the stage, holding up programs, phone cases, even handkerchiefs, thrusting them toward Lucinda.
Lucinda stood there, signing one by one, her lips maintaining that faint curve.
In the VIP section, Dahlia sat there, fingers gripping her dress.
She watched the people surging forward. Watched Lucinda surrounded at the stage's edge by flashbulbs and cheers.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. A complex emotion—half jealousy, half resentment—churned in her eyes.
Why did Lucinda get this?
She'd studied design for years. Won first place. And people in the audience didn't even spare her a second glance.
But Lucinda did nothing—just stood there signing a few autographs—and received ten times more cheers than when Dahlia had held up her trophy.
It wasn't fair.
Gemma helped Allegra up from the floor. Mother and daughter stumbled toward the exit.
All attention remained on that figure in deep blue on the stage.
Emily sat in the front row, never having left her seat.
She held the now-cold tea in her hand, her gaze withdrawing from the stage to land on the retreating backs of Gemma and Allegra.
She set down the teacup and pulled out her phone to make a call.
The line connected. Her voice was neither cold nor warm. "Mrs. Wipere, regarding the endorsement contract—I'm afraid we'll need to reconsider. Your daughter's actions have seriously damaged our brand's reputation. According to Article 12, Section 3 of the contract, we have the right to unilaterally terminate the partnership and demand compensation for all losses incurred. My lawyer will be in touch about the specifics."
From the other end came Gemma's shrill wail.
Emily hung up and put her phone back in her handbag.
She picked up the cold tea and took a sip. Her gaze returned to that figure onstage, head bowed as she signed autographs. A flicker of appreciation crossed her eyes.
This young woman—she was truly worth investing in.