Chapter 103
The entire venue fell silent for a moment.
The red cloth slowly lifted, revealing the display beneath.
A design sketch. A finished pendant.
The lines in the sketch were intricate and ornate—a butterfly shape, wings embedded with small diamonds, every line drawn with extreme precision.
The curve of those wings, the arrangement of the diamonds, the layering of light and shadow—it was breathtakingly beautiful.
But beside it, a few additional strokes—clearly different in style—were stiff and awkward, the composition cramped, forming a stark contrast with the fluid grace of those wings.
Whispers rippled through the audience.
"The design of those wings is absolutely stunning. I've never seen this kind of treatment before…"
"Right? But what's with those decorations on the side? It feels like two different people drew it—the styles are completely different."
"Is that part of the design? A contrast effect?"
"Doesn't look like it. More like someone forced those additions on."
Sitting in the front row, Ollie's brow furrowed tightly.
His gaze was locked on that design sketch, his fingers gripping the program so hard his knuckles turned white.
He'd seen that wing design before.
Three years ago, in Amy's studio, he'd glimpsed a rough draft casually left on her desk.
Just a few strokes, but every line was as precise as if measured with a ruler.
The curve of those wings, the layering of light and shadow, the arrangement of the diamonds—identical to what was now displayed on that sketch.
How did Amy's draft end up here?
His gaze shifted from the design sketch to Allegra sitting in the second row below.
That woman sat upright, a reserved smile on her lips, looking confident of her victory.
Ollie's frown deepened.
He lowered his head, pulled out his phone, and sent a message to the host onstage.
[Pause the second-place award. Present first place first.]
The host's earpiece crackled with the director's voice. His expression shifted briefly, but he quickly recovered his professional smile. "Distinguished guests, after urgent deliberation by the judging panel, we will present the first-place award of this competition first. Please bear with us."
A buzz of conversation filled the audience.
"What's going on? Why did they suddenly change the order?"
"Is there something wrong with the second-place work?"
"No way—those wings were absolutely incredible…"
Dahlia sat in the VIP section, her smile freezing for a moment.
She turned her head and glanced at Lucinda.
Lucinda still had her earbuds in, playing her game, completely unaware of what was happening onstage.
Her fingers tightened around the fabric of her dress on her knee.
Why were they skipping second place?
Could the judges think second place was better than her first-place work?
Impossible!
She was first place. She was today's star!
But the spotlight onstage shifted direction. The largest red cloth at the very center was slowly lifted.
A design sketch. A matching necklace and earring set.
Lines neat, composition balanced, every detail handled flawlessly.
This was a highly polished work—no flaws, but also no surprises.
Applause rose from the audience, but it was noticeably quieter than before.
"The first-place work… how do I put it? It's solid but safe."
"Pretty, sure, but it feels like something's missing. No natural energy."
"True. That second-place butterfly wings—even though only part of it was stunning, that part was pure genius. By comparison, this first place feels too bland."
"When the judges paused second place earlier, do you think they're considering swapping it with first?"
Dahlia sat in the VIP section. Those comments stabbed into her ears like needles.
Her face paled slightly. Her fingers gripped the program, creasing the paper.
But she quickly steadied herself.
She stood, smoothed her dress, plastered on a gracious smile, and walked gracefully onto the stage.
The spotlight hit her, bathing her in radiance.
The host handed her the trophy. She lifted it high, smiling at the cameras below.
Flashbulbs exploded in a blinding cascade.
Dahlia's gaze swept past the cameras and landed on Lucinda in the VIP section, still wearing earbuds.
She was still looking down at her game, head never lifting.
Dahlia's mouth curved slightly, coldness flickering in her eyes.
Just wait.
One day, she'd stand far higher than Lucinda ever could.
Meanwhile, in the audience, Allegra sat in the second row, fingers gripping the armrest so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Her gaze was fixed on the second-place display stand, now covered again with red cloth. Her heartbeat pounded like a drum.
She'd heard all those whispers.
People saying her work was better than first place. That the judges might swap her into first.
Her mouth slowly curved into a smile she couldn't suppress.
She leaned toward Gemma, lowering her voice. "Mom, did you hear? People are saying my work is better than first place. When the judges paused the awards earlier, maybe they're planning to give me first place."
Gemma's eyes lit up instantly. She grabbed Allegra's hand, excitement spilling from her voice. "Really? That's wonderful! Allegra, if you take first place, your value will skyrocket. When we negotiate the endorsement fee with Ms. Johnson later, we'll renegotiate—at least double."
Allegra lowered her head, unable to suppress her smile.
She lifted her gaze, eyes drifting past the crowd to that figure in the VIP section wearing earbuds.
'Lucinda, listen closely. So what if you have dirt on me? Once I win first place and stand on that highest podium, whatever you're holding won't be worth a dime.'
She straightened her back even more, her smile widening.
The awards ceremony continued onstage, but everyone's attention had already shifted away from first place.
Gazes kept drifting toward the second-place display, carrying an excitement that thrived on drama.
The true recipient of second place—that was today's biggest mystery.
The stage lights suddenly dimmed for a few seconds. When they brightened again, Ollie was standing at the microphone.
He braced both hands on either side of the podium, his gaze sweeping past the sea of people below and landing on the woman in the red gown sitting in the second row.
The entire venue fell silent.
The host stood off to the side, glanced at Ollie, who nodded slightly. The host took a step back, yielding center stage.
"Distinguished guests." Ollie's voice wasn't loud, but the microphone carried every word to the farthest corners of the venue. "Before presenting the second-place award of this competition, there is a matter I wish to personally clarify with the second-place winner, Ms. Allegra Wipere."
A murmur rippled through the audience.
Allegra sat in the back row. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly suppressed it.
She straightened her back, curved her lips into a gracious smile, and met his gaze openly—like someone with a clear conscience facing routine questioning before receiving an honor.
Ollie looked at her, his gaze calm, but his eyes held no warmth.
"Ms. Wipere, I would like to ask you: did you truly design this work independently?"