Chapter 209

Chapter 209

Harper snorted. "Elowen had people following us, so I had people following her. Word is, she's been in a great mood these past few days."

Alaric fell silent for a moment, then pulled out his phone. "I'll text her right now and set things straight."

Harper pressed down on his hand.

"Don't," she said.

A smile curved her lips. "Let her keep believing it. When she discovers the truth, it'll hurt even more."

She hadn't intended to target Elowen like this, but Elowen had provoked her first—repeatedly—hadn't she?

Alaric looked at her and suddenly laughed.

"Harper," he said, "you've gone bad."

Harper raised an eyebrow. "I learned from you."

They locked eyes and both smiled.

Over the next month, Harper shut herself in her studio.

Every morning at six sharp, she appeared at her drafting table.

Not until midnight would the last light go out.

Every time Bianca came to deliver meals, she'd find Harper hunched over the desk, pencil gliding across paper, brow slightly furrowed, her focus so intense it seemed wrong to interrupt.

"You're going to burn yourself out like this." Bianca set lunch on the table, her voice tinged with concern.

Harper didn't even look up. "Almost there. Just a few final details left."

Bianca leaned in to peek at the sketches. Even half-finished, the lines made her gasp.

"Harper, this collection..." She couldn't find the right words. "It's so different."

Harper finally raised her head, a faint smile playing on her lips. "This collection has been ten years in the making."

Ten years.

Since before she married Rupert. Since the moment she'd been forced to abandon her design dreams, those ideas had taken root in her heart.

Then came years of marriage, countless nights crying alone, that blanket on the rocking chair at the Ross Manor, the last bit of warmth her mother had left her.

All the bitterness, all the pain, all the understanding—woven into these lines.

"Every stroke is me," Harper said. "No one can replicate it."

Bianca looked at her, suddenly fighting tears.

She understood what this collection meant to Harper.

This was rebirth.

Meanwhile, Elowen wasn't idle either.

Her studio blazed with lights, designers working overtime, only to be torn apart by Elowen's fury.

"This won't work! Too ordinary!"

"This is the best you can do? You think this can compete with Harper?"

"Redo it! Redo everything!"

The assistant carefully offered a cup of coffee. "Ms. Forbes, don't worry, we still have time..."

"Time?" Elowen's laugh was cold. "Harper's been holed up for a month. You know what that means? It means she's preparing something big!"

She shoved the coffee away and stood by the window, darkness flickering in her eyes.

A month ago, she'd sent people to dig into Harper's design direction but came up empty.

Harper's studio was locked down tight—not even a fly could get in.

Harper's vigilance exceeded her expectations.

But that only made Elowen more desperate to know what Harper was working on.

"Go," she told her assistant. "Get someone to watch her studio. Get photos of whatever you can."

The assistant hesitated. "Ms. Forbes, that doesn't seem right..."

Elowen turned, her gaze cold as a blade. "When I tell you to do something, you do it."

The assistant lowered her head. "Yes."

Elowen turned back to the night view beyond the window, her lips slowly curving upward.

'Harper, you think hiding will let you beat me? Dream on.'

When the intel reached Elowen's hands two weeks later.

"Ms. Forbes, this is what we managed to photograph." The assistant handed over a stack of photos.

Elowen took them and her pupils contracted slightly.

The photos showed Harper's studio window. Through the glass, design sketches were faintly visible.

Though blurry, the flow of the lines and overall structure were clear enough.

Elowen stared at those photos for a long time.

Then she smiled.

That smile—cold and triumphant.

"So that's it," she murmured. "Harper, you do have some skill. But your little ace up your sleeve? I'm holding it in my hands now."

She tucked the photos away and turned to her assistant. "Contact a few gossip blogs. Tell them I have an exclusive."

The assistant blinked. "What news?"

A calculating gleam flashed in Elowen's eyes.

"Say," she enunciated each word, "that my new collection will completely revolutionize the domestic design scene and crush all competitors launching at the same time."

After the assistant left, Elowen stood by the window, gazing at the city lights stretching into the distance.

'Harper, your work will soon be mine. Whether it's your designs, your title as the top designer, or... Alaric.'

One week before the launch, the entire design community waited with bated breath.

Two major designers releasing collections simultaneously—the suspense of this showdown had everyone on edge.

Media outlets began their promotional blitz, headlines bombarding readers in rotation.

#DualDivasDuelWhoIsTheTrueTopDesignerInTheCountry

Bianca scrolled through the news daily, grinning ear to ear. "Harper, look! The buzz keeps growing! On launch day, it's going to explode!"

Harper's brow furrowed slightly. "Any movement from Elowen lately?"

Bianca thought for a moment. "Nothing special. She just posts random stuff on social media every day—countdowns, teasers about surprises. Pretty good at creating hype."

Harper nodded but said nothing more, though a faint unease lingered in her chest.

Elowen was too quiet.

Given her personality, she wasn't the type to just wait patiently for results.

Harper picked up the design sketches on her desk, looking at those lines that held all her heart and soul, and sighed softly.

Maybe she was overthinking it.

Three days before the launch, the storm hit.

That morning, Harper was jolted awake by Bianca's frantic call. "Harper, we've got a problem!"

Bianca's voice was shrill with panic. Harper snapped fully awake.

"What happened?"

"Check the news! Now!"

Harper opened her phone and her pupils dilated sharply.

The top trending topic blazed at her:

#HarperAccusedOfPlagiarizingObscureInternationalDesigner's Work

Below it, several hashtags climbed rapidly:

#ExclusiveComparisonHarper's NewWorkShockinglySimilarToNadia'sDesigns

#HarperUnworthyOfHerReputation

She clicked in. Photos of her design sketches flooded the screen.

Her new collection sketches.

Somehow photographed without her knowledge—high-resolution images capturing every detail with crystal clarity.

In the comparison images sat works by an obscure international designer named Nadia from three years ago.

Those lines, those structures, those elements—they did resemble her work.

The comments section had already exploded.

[Oh my god, and you're telling me this isn't plagiarism? They're practically identical!]

[I've been waiting for this for so long and this is what I get?]