Chapter 108
The crowd at the edge of the stage finally began to thin.
Lucinda set down her pen. The last fan clutched the signed program to her chest, eyes red-rimmed as she said "thank you" more than a dozen times before reluctantly turning to leave.
Lucinda flexed her wrist and glanced at her phone—nearly ten o'clock.
Ollie walked over, handing her a bottle of water with a smile. "Master Amy, thank you for tonight. If it weren't for you, this scandal would have disgraced our entire industry."
Lucinda took the water, unscrewed the cap, and took a sip. "Just doing what's right. You can handle the rest."
"Don't worry. The announcements revoking her award and banning her from the industry will go out first thing tomorrow morning. The association's legal team will also follow up on the plagiarism and defamation charges. She won't escape any of it."
Lucinda nodded, set the bottle on the table, picked up her clutch, and turned toward the side exit.
The hallway lighting was several degrees dimmer than the ballroom.
Her shadow stretched long behind her. The deep blue hem of her gown swayed gently as she walked.
Outside the side exit in the parking lot, the night breeze hit her face.
She'd only taken a few steps when a figure emerged from behind a nearby pillar.
Marshall stood there, the top two buttons of his suit undone, his tie loosened. He looked disheveled.
His gaze fell on Lucinda's face. "Lucinda."
He took a step forward.
Lucinda stopped and looked at him.
The night wind lifted her long hair, a few strands brushing across her cheek.
Marshall's Adam's apple bobbed.
He remembered the first time he'd seen her. White dress, standing in the Wipere Villa garden. Sunlight fell on her shoulders. She looked serene and simple—like a painting.
Back then, he'd actively approached her, tried to charm her, hinted at the family engagement.
She hadn't even looked at him. Coldly said, "Not interested."
Later, the engagement fell to Allegra. He told himself Allegra was fine—better than that ice-cold Lucinda, anyway.
And then later still, he'd felt sorry for Lucinda. Contacted her privately. Wanted to make her his kept woman.
Not only did she refuse outright—she humiliated him on the spot, making him lose complete face.
But now, in this moment, standing here in the night looking at her, he suddenly realized—his half-year of self-deception was nothing but a joke.
"Lucinda, I need to talk to you." His voice carried a careful gentleness. "I was blind before. Allegra fooled me. She acted sweet and understanding in front of me, but behind the scenes she did all those disgusting things. I only found out tonight that she's been lying to me the whole time."
He took another step forward, reaching out to touch her arm. "Can you give me a chance? Let's just talk—"
"Get lost." Lucinda's response was clean and blunt.
Marshall's hand froze mid-air. His expression shifted from pleading to shock. "Lucinda, I—"
"Don't understand plain English?" Lucinda looked at him, her gaze as cold as winter wind. "You and I have never had any kind of relationship. Not before. Not now. Not ever. Stay away from me."
She finished speaking, stepped around him, and walked toward the depths of the parking lot without looking back.
Marshall stood frozen, hand still raised, unable to lower it for a long moment.
That figure in deep blue grew farther and farther away, finally disappearing around a corner of the parking lot.
Just then, stumbling footsteps sounded behind him.
"Marshall—"
Allegra ran out from the side exit of the venue. She rushed to Marshall and reached out to grab his arm. "Marshall, let me explain. It's not what they said. That piece really was mine—"
"Get lost." Marshall violently yanked his arm away. He looked at her, disgust thick in his eyes. "You lied to me for so long. How much longer were you planning to keep it up? Stealing someone's designs, spreading lies about them—do you have any shame left at all?"
Tears flooded Allegra's eyes. Her lips trembled. She wanted to say something, but meeting those ice-cold eyes, all her words stuck in her throat.
Marshall didn't look at her again. He turned and strode toward his car.
After a few steps, he stopped. He couldn't help but glance back toward the corner of the parking lot.
Empty. That figure in deep blue—long gone.
His chest felt like something had slammed into it, the pain nearly suffocating him.
He yanked open the car door, got in, and slammed his fist against the steering wheel. The horn let out a short blare that echoed through the empty lot.
Allegra stood in place, watching Marshall's taillights fade into the distance. Her legs gave out. She collapsed to the ground.
She covered her face and sobbed loudly.
At the side entrance of the venue, Dahlia emerged.
She'd changed out of her champagne gown back into casual clothes, carrying the gold-embossed first-place trophy in her hand.
The trophy reflected cold light under the streetlamp. It was heavy, but holding it now felt like carrying a meaningless stone.
She saw the scene in the parking lot—Marshall reaching out only to be rebuffed by Lucinda. Allegra lunging forward and being shoved away. Marshall driving off. Allegra crumpled on the ground, crying like a lunatic.
Her gaze withdrew from Allegra and landed on Marshall's retreating taillights. Her brow furrowed slightly.
A man like that thought he could pursue Lucinda?
Unbidden, an image of Reginald came to mind.
Charcoal gray coat. Tall frame. That aura of someone long accustomed to power.
He showed warmth to no one—except when looking at Lucinda. Then the light in his eyes turned impossibly gentle.
That kind of man was the one who deserved—
A thought flashed through her mind. She froze like she'd been struck by lightning.
What was she thinking? Was she actually picking men for Lucinda?
She rolled her eyes, shook her head hard to fling the absurd thought away, and turned toward the other side of the parking lot.
Lucinda was just lucky.
Lucky enough to run into Reginald. Lucky enough to become Amy. All the good fortune just fell into her lap.
It was just luck!
Meanwhile, on the other end of the parking lot, the Douglas family's Rolls-Royce sat quietly.
Valencia stood beside the car holding Lucinda's trench coat. From a distance, she spotted that figure in deep blue emerging from the side exit.
Her eyes lit up. She hurried forward.
Though they hadn't been present earlier, they'd been watching the livestream out of concern for Dahlia—and had witnessed the revelation that Lucinda was Amy. The shock had been overwhelming.
"Cindy! Over here!" Valencia draped the coat over Lucinda's shoulders, both hands smoothing the collar. She lowered her head to carefully check her daughter's expression, confirming she hadn't been wronged, then let out a relieved breath. "Are you cold? Hungry? I had Uma make soup for you. You can have it as soon as we get home."
Lucinda's lips curved slightly. She shook her head. "I'm not cold."
Wesley leaned his head out the car window, a smile on his face, and waved her over. "Get in. Let's go home."
Lucinda bent down and slid into the back seat. Valencia followed, closing the door behind them. She took Lucinda's hand in hers, warming it.