Chapter 211
At the same time, in Elowen's apartment.
Elowen sat on the sofa with a glass of wine, scrolling through the flood of hate on her phone. She couldn't stop a smile from creeping onto her face.
"Ms. Forbes, the public is completely on our side now," her assistant said, staying close. "Harper is finished. There’s no coming back from this."
Elowen gently swirled her wine glass, the red wine glowing seductively under the light.
"Has she issued a statement?" she asked.
The assistant shook her head. "She just posted one sentence—'I didn't plagiarize'—without any explanation."
Elowen laughed. "I really overestimated her. She's useless."
She took a sip of wine, her gaze falling on the dazzling night view outside the window.
'Harper, what do you have to fight me with? I have connections, capital, and means. And you? You only have a startup studio and a tarnished reputation from your recent divorce.'
She stopped, a cold look in her eyes.
Alaric was hers.
She set down her wine glass, picked up her phone, and sent Alaric a message: [Alaric, I think that Ms. Mellon situation is fabricated. She must be very hurt. You shouldn't bother her. Do you have time tonight? Let's get a drink together.]
After sending it, she smiled.
When Alaric received the message, he was downstairs from Harper's studio.
He ignored Elowen. Instead, he looked up at the glowing window on the sixteenth floor.
He wasn't sure if he should go up. He didn't know if Harper would be pissed if he stepped in to fix this for her.
But at a time like this, she needed someone by her side.
Even if he just stayed down there to keep watch.
His phone vibrated again. It was a message from Harper: [Don't stand down there. Come up.]
Alaric froze, looking up at that window.
The curtain moved.
Alaric let a smile slip. This time, he didn't stop—he just walked right in.
Harper was sitting at her drafting table, holding a pencil, drawing something on paper.
Bianca had already gone home. Harper was alone in the studio.
"How did you know I was downstairs?" Alaric asked.
Harper didn't look up. "The sound of your car. I know it well."
Alaric felt a pull in his chest. He moved to her side, his eyes dropping to the sketch.
It was a new design drawing, similar in style to the leaked ones, but with some differences.
"This is..."
Harper set down her pencil and looked up at him.
"This is evidence," she said.
Alaric frowned. "Evidence?"
Harper nodded and handed him her phone. "Look at this."
It was evidence the private eye had found—screenshots of chats between Elowen’s assistant and a marketing lead.
It clearly stated when to publish, what angle to use, and how much money was paid.
There was also a photo—a security shot of Elowen's assistant going in and out of the building where Harper’s studio was.
Although the building's internal surveillance had been deleted, the external footage remained.
It happened exactly one day before the designs leaked.
Looking at all this, the coldness in Alaric's eyes deepened.
"She's quite bold." He said, "Harper, I'll make sure she can never appear before you again."
Harper smiled. That smile held no fear, only calm. "I can handle it."
Alaric looked at her, his hand suddenly reaching out to catch hers.
"Harper," he said, looking at her like he'd been kicked, "will you even need me then?"
Harper was tougher than he’d realized. It left Alaric feeling useless—if she didn't need his help, would she still want him?
Harper looked at him, at those earnest eyes, and warmth surged in her heart.
This man had been by her side from beginning to end.
"What we've found isn't enough yet," she said. "I need evidence of her admitting it herself."
Alaric understood. "You want her to jump into this trap herself?"
Harper nodded. "She thinks I'm done for, so she'll definitely get carried away. At that moment, just give her a little provocation, and she'll expose herself."
Alaric looked at her, his eyes full of admiration. "You have a plan?"
The corners of Harper's mouth curved upward. "I do."
The next day, Harper's studio released a statement.
[In light of recent public opinion, Ms. Harper Mellon has decided to postpone the new product launch and await the truth investigation. Thank you all for your attention and support.]
As soon as the message went out, the internet exploded.
[Postpone? What is this if not a guilty conscience?]
[Still waiting for the truth—the truth is she plagiarized!]
[Get out of the design world! Stop wasting everyone's time!]
[Elowen is the real designer. What does Harper amount to?]
Seeing this message, Elowen couldn't stop grinning.
"Postpone?" she said to her assistant. "She's admitting defeat."
The assistant chimed in, "Ms. Forbes is right. She definitely can't hold on anymore."
Elowen leaned back on the sofa, in excellent spirits.
"Go leak some information," she said. "Say that my new product launch will proceed as scheduled, and make it grand. Let everyone know who the winner is."
The assistant complied and left.
Elowen picked up her phone, looking at Harper's statement about "postponing the launch," her eyes full of triumph.
'Harper, you've lost.'
But what she didn't see was that at the same time, Harper was sitting in her studio, recording everything on her computer screen, item by item.
Recording what?
Recording every high-profile statement from Elowen's studio these past few days, every subtle jab at her, every self-satisfied gesture.
Bianca came over to look, asking in confusion, "Harper, why are you recording all this?"
Harper smiled.
"For the day she is exposed," she said. "All of this will become evidence proving how much she wanted to crush me."
Bianca was stunned, then suddenly understood. "You mean... when the time comes, post all of this so everyone can see how malicious she is?"
Harper nodded.
"Public opinion is something that can lift people up and kill them," she said. "However, she's propping herself up and stepping on me now will all backfire on her then."
Bianca covered her mouth and laughed. "That's exactly right! Why just fight back? She should reap what she sows!"
Over the next three days, Harper did nothing.
No statements, no explanations, no counterattacks.
She just stayed quietly in the studio, drawing, drinking tea, occasionally chatting with Bianca.
Outside, criticism raged, but she acted as if nothing was happening.
Sometimes, even Bianca felt anxious for her. "Harper, aren't you afraid?"
Harper set down her teacup and looked at her. "Afraid of what?"
Bianca said, "What if Elowen really wins? What if everyone doesn't believe you?"
Harper was silent for a moment.
Then she said, "Bianca, do you know how I got through these past three years?"
Bianca froze.
Harper continued, "Being neglected by Rupert, bullied by the Getty family, treated by everyone as a useless housewife. Back then, I had nothing—only myself."