Chapter 210

Chapter 210

[Harper, get out of the design world! Plagiarists don't deserve to be designers!]

[Champion? More like copied her way to the top!]

[I knew it—how could a housewife suddenly make a comeback? Turns out she's been copying all along!]

Harper stared at those comments, her fingers trembling slightly.

Not from fear.

From anger.

Every single stroke in those designs came from her heart and soul.

And now, they were being called plagiarism.

Bianca's call came through again, her voice thick with tears. "Harper, what's going on? How did those sketches leak? And this Nadia—do you know her? Did you really..."

She didn't finish, but Harper understood what she meant.

"Bianca," Harper spoke, her voice so calm it surprised even herself. "I didn't copy."

Bianca froze.

"Those works are completely original. That Nadia—I've never even heard of her."

Bianca fell silent for a second, then said, "I believe you. I believe you, Harper!"

"But what do we do now? Public opinion has exploded. Partners are already calling to ask questions. Three of them have already said they want to terminate their contracts..."

Harper closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"I understand," she said. "We'll talk more when I get to the studio."

After hanging up, she stood by the window, looking out at the sunlight.

The sun was warm, but her heart was cold.

Those design sketches—only she and Bianca had seen them. Where could they have leaked from?

Harper stared at the window, and suddenly something flashed through her mind.

To get that photo, someone would have needed access to the studio window.

But the window was on the sixteenth floor, with no buildings across from it that could capture that angle. Unless... someone had gotten inside her studio.

Harper opened her eyes, a sharp glint flashing in them.

This had to be connected to Elowen. Besides her, Harper couldn't think of anyone else who would dare pull something like this.

When Harper arrived at the studio, a crowd of reporters had already gathered at the entrance.

Camera flashes assaulted her from all sides, microphones practically jabbing her face.

"Ms. Mellon! The internet says you plagiarized. Is it true?"

"Why are your works so similar to Nadia's?"

"Did you copy your championship too? Please answer!"

Harper said nothing, just pushed through the crowd and headed inside.

Bianca blocked her path, shouting at the reporters, "Move! Everyone move! We're not accepting interviews right now!"

They finally squeezed into the studio. As soon as the door shut, the chaos outside was muffled.

Bianca leaned against the door, gasping for air.

"That was insane," she said. "Those reporters are like they've lost their minds."

Harper walked to the window, looking at the reporters still desperately trying to peer inside, her brow furrowed tight.

"Did you check the security footage?" she asked.

Bianca nodded. "I did. But..."

She paused. "The footage from the past month has been deleted."

Harper looked at her.

Bianca's expression was grim. "It was deleted using technical means—can't be recovered. The timeframe exactly matches the days when you were finishing the final designs."

Harper fell silent for a moment.

Then she smiled.

That smile was cold as ice.

"Deleted the footage?" she said. "That's practically a confession."

Bianca blinked. "What do you mean?"

Harper didn't explain. Instead, she pulled out her phone and made a phone call. "I need you to look into someone. Everyone at Elowen's studio—check if any of them have had contact with anyone from my studio in the past month. Also, dig into this Nadia person. Background, everything. The faster, the better."

After hanging up, she told Bianca, "From now on, all external communications from the studio are suspended. If anyone comes asking, just say I'm preparing a statement. Nothing else."

Bianca nodded, then asked worriedly, "Are you sure not responding is the right move?"

Harper looked at her, her gaze steady.

"I didn't copy," she said. "The truth is on my side."

Looking into those determined eyes, Bianca suddenly felt reassured.

"Alright," she said. "I'm with you."

The rumors spread like wildfire.

By afternoon, seven partners had already sent termination notices. Brands that had begged to collaborate overnight turned their backs without a second thought.

Gossip blogs began digging into Harper's "dark past," dragging out her marriage to Rupert and spinning wild narratives—"bad character leads to affairs," "deserved to be kicked out."

Seven of the top ten trending topics were about Harper.

All negative.

The comments section was nothing but abuse.

[Plagiarists, get out of the design world!]

[People like this shouldn't be designers—go home and raise kids!]

[I used to see you as a goddess. What was I thinking?]

[No wonder Rupert cheated. Who could stand a woman like this?]

Bianca read those comments, her hands shaking with rage. "They don't know anything! They're just talking nonsense without knowing a single thing!"

But Harper remained calm.

She sat at her drafting table, scrolling through the comparison images on her phone, page by page.

This designer called Nadia—her work from three years ago did look about seventy percent similar to Harper's at first glance. But upon closer inspection, the problems became clear.

Nadia's style was completely different from Harper's.

Nadia's work was cold, distant, carrying that minimalist international aesthetic.

Harper's work was warm, delicate—every detail told a story.

"This was deliberate," Harper said. "They picked a designer whose style is completely different from mine, then deliberately selected works that could be matched up. That way, most people won't look closely. They'll just see similar compositions and immediately cry plagiarism."

Bianca leaned in to look. "You're saying someone deliberately selected those comparison images?"

Harper nodded.

"And," she zoomed in on the image, "look here."

It was a detail from Nadia's work—the flow of the lines was completely opposite to Harper's.

"If this were plagiarism, it wouldn't just be the composition that's similar while the details are reversed," Harper said. "So what does that tell you?"

Bianca had a sudden realization. "It means someone deliberately chose angles for comparison to manipulate public opinion!"

Harper put away her phone and stood. "Elowen dared to do this, so she must have prepared. But she missed one thing."

Bianca asked, "What?"

Harper's lips curved upward slightly. "I have witnesses."

That evening, Harper issued a statement: [I did not plagiarize. The truth will come to light.]

Just one short sentence. No explanations, no excuses.

The comments section went even more wild.

[Where's the proof? Anyone can say empty words!]

[Caught red-handed and still trying to deny it—such thick skin!]

[If you didn't copy, I'll eat my keyboard!]

Bianca watched those comments, pacing anxiously. "Harper, that's all you're posting? They don't believe you!"

But Harper set down her phone and started sketching.

"Let them curse," she said. "The harder they curse now, the louder the slap in the face will be later."

Seeing Harper's calm demeanor, Bianca suddenly felt less anxious.

She knew Harper had a plan.