Chapter 247

"At first I helped a few people out, and then they brought more people along. That's how the numbers slowly built up."

"Vivian, a place like Country M is too clean. You can't make a living there."

Vivian lifted her eyes from the prehistoric European jade axe and looked at him.

The desk lamp cut his face in half — one side lit, one side in shadow. He spoke at an unhurried pace, like he was talking about something that had happened a long time ago. She said, without quite knowing why: "All those years before you found me — you got through them like this, on your own?"

She dropped her gaze, her fingers curling slightly against her knee. "Did you have anyone with you back then?"

Arthur didn't answer right away. He tilted his head slightly, as if thinking about how to respond, then looked at her. "I've never been good at getting close to people. So most of the time, yes, I was alone. Sometimes someone would work with me on something, and when it was done, we'd go our separate ways."

"And now?"

The look in his eyes now held something faint, something less guarded than usual. His voice dropped a little. "Aren't you here now."

Vivian paused, then bent her head and pretended to study the two prehistoric European jade axes on the table. She didn't say "yeah" or "okay." She just wrapped each piece in soft cloth and placed them in the box, her movements a little slower than usual.

As the lid closed, she heard Arthur say: "Stay a little longer. Dawn's still a ways off."

She leaned back in her chair, pulled her jacket over her knees, and turned to look out the window at the night. The horizon was still a deep grey. Arthur got up and came to sit in the chair beside her, close but not too close. Neither of them spoke, but the silence felt different now — like a stretch of water settling after the wind has died.

As the first pale light crept in along the windowsill, Vivian heard him say: "I won't let you walk out there alone again."

She didn't open her eyes, but the corners of her mouth moved, just slightly.

She woke before full light. She was lying on the sofa under a blanket — one corner worn thin, like it had been washed too many times.

Arthur hadn't slept. He sat in front of his laptop, the screen's glow falling across the side of his face and tracing the line of his brow clearly.

She walked over and stood behind him, looking at the screen.

It showed an open email with a side-by-side comparison: on the left, the finalized spring jewelry design from Arthur's company; on the right, a foreign piece from three years ago.

Put together, the two pieces did overlap visually — the line direction and overall structure looked like two branches grown from the same tree. Vivian studied it for a few seconds. She noticed that the edge finishing on the right piece was clearly different from the left — a technique she didn't recognize — but the left design had something familiar in the way its curves connected.

"Who sent this?" Vivian asked.

"An anonymous account. Posted at three in the morning. It's already been shared over a thousand times." Arthur turned the laptop toward her so she could see more clearly. Alongside the comparison images were screenshots of comments — the wording looked like it came from the same person, all hammering the same point: nearly identical.

Vivian thought of how Raymond's people had tried to slip fake artifacts in among the real ones — the logic of placing a copy in the right context to muddy the judgment. It wasn't so different from what this anonymous post was doing.

"Your team's review process — no record of that older piece anywhere?"

"Nothing. It's not in the database, and the designers did check comparable products on the market before finalizing."

"Then it's not a design problem. Someone deliberately timed this to drop right before the launch. The goal is to force tomorrow's event to be cancelled or postponed."

Arthur stared at the email on screen, his fingers still resting on the trackpad, unmoving. His expression didn't change much, but Vivian could tell what he was thinking.

The launch was tomorrow. The venue was booked, the press was invited. Swapping out the entire collection at this point wasn't realistic — but if the event went ahead as planned, the new pieces would walk out wearing a plagiarism label, and the audience would look at everything through that lens. Even if they cleared their name later, the first impression would already be gone.

Vivian went to her luggage and crouched down beside it. From the very bottom she pulled out a kraft paper envelope, its corners soft from wear.

She untied the string and drew out the papers one by one, spreading them across the table. Each was a sheet of thick card stock, covered in colored pencil jewelry sketches — fine, even lines, warm tones, every piece's decorative motifs drawn from the patterns of artifacts excavated in the country. Country H's traditions. That was real taste, the kind that belonged at the top.

"I drew these over the past year, off and on, while I was in Pinecrest. I've verified the source of every motif — all from publicly available artifact records. There's no chance of overlap with anything on the market." She smoothed out the last sheet and let her fingertip rest for a moment at the edge of the jade axe necklace page, then looked up at Arthur. "If the launch theme can be changed, this collection is ready to use."

"And besides — every major brand out there has borrowed from our country's artifacts. What you have doesn't come close to plagiarism."

Arthur stood up.

He walked to the table and leaned over the sketches, turning through them one by one. When he reached the jade axe necklace page, his finger stopped on the curved line.

"What about the clothes? The runway pieces they've prepared won't match this collection's style."

"I'd like to recommend someone for the clothing. She made a gown for Riley once — you saw how it turned out. The aesthetic is close to what's here. And she works fast. She can have finished pieces ready within a week."

"Rachel?"

Vivian nodded.

She didn't mention her connection to Rachel, didn't explain her reasons. She just stood there and straightened the stack of sketches, sliding them back into the envelope.

But Arthur knew her. He knew how much Rachel meant to her.

Arthur picked up his phone, found the number, and called.

It rang briefly before someone picked up. He stood by the window, his voice steady and a little quicker than usual. When he hung up, he turned around and set the phone on the table. "She's taking the project."