Chapter 58 Interview

Chapter 58 Interview

Emma Johnson's POV

"So, planning to plagiarize her artwork again? Save yourself the trouble. She's way out of your league."

The short-haired woman's voice dripped with condescension, her eyes full of contempt.

"Actually, I happen to know her. I could introduce you if you'd like."

My smile didn't reach my eyes as I watched their faces light up with sudden excitement.

"How about it? Interested?"

"Wait, seriously? You actually know Emma?"

"Our editor-in-chief said she never does public appearances. She's this rising star designer, and even he doesn't have her contact info. You're telling me you do?"

The curly-haired woman's tone was skeptical, but the short-haired one arched her perfectly shaped eyebrows, sizing me up and down.

"Yeah, our boss said she's completely off the grid. No interviews, no public appearances, nothing."

She paused, stepping closer in her stilettos, eyes gleaming with calculation.

"But hey, if you can hook us up, we'll forget this whole thing ever happened. We won't spread word about your plagiarism around the industry."

The patronizing charity in her voice made me laugh out loud.

"No need. Her assistant is in the office on the second floor. Name's Aria. You'll probably have better luck going through her."

Without waiting for a response, I turned and headed straight for the third floor.

The third floor was my private workspace. Only Aria and I had keycard access. I rarely used it except for creating art or meeting clients, so it remained pristine and minimalist.

Setting my sketchbook on the desk, I walked behind the work table to the privacy screen and changed out of my casual shirt and jeans.

I always changed into work attire before painting—a simple but expertly tailored dress underneath, covered by an apron.

Facing the mirror, I gathered my hair loosely at the nape of my neck, exposing the elegant line of my throat.

My face, free of makeup, showed delicate, refined features.

The landline in the studio suddenly rang. I picked up—it was Aria on the internal line.

"Boss, three ladies from FASHION magazine are here requesting an interview. Do you have time?"

A smile tugged at my lips. "Bring them up. And send in a pot of tea as well."

Aria caught on immediately. After hanging up, I settled back into the high-backed chair behind my work table, casually flipping through the latest fashion magazine, waiting quietly.

The click of approaching heels echoed from outside, accompanied by familiar voices.

"Miss Clark, Ms. Johnson really agreed to give us an exclusive interview?"

"FASHION is a premier design publication. Ms. Johnson choosing us for her first interview is absolutely the right decision!"

Ten minutes ago, these three women had been accusing me of plagiarism on the stairwell.

Just imagining their expressions when they walked through that door made my lips curve into a high, satisfied smile.

"Ms. Johnson, the three ladies have arrived."

Aria knocked politely.

"Come in."

The door opened.

Three women entered, faces full of smiles and excitement. But the moment their eyes landed on me, those smiles froze solid, shock blooming in their gazes.

The curly-haired woman's mouth dropped open comically. Her notebook clattered to the floor.

The one holding the camera stood frozen, instinctively glancing toward the short-haired woman in the middle.

"Emma?" The short-haired woman's legs nearly gave out. Someone next to her caught her arm.

"You're Emma!" she shrieked, her voice cracking with disbelief.

I closed the magazine and looked up at them. "Hello. We didn't get a chance for proper introductions on the stairs earlier. I'm Emma, the owner of this gallery—and the 'plagiarizing garbage' you were referring to."

I smiled, watching the three faces across from me turn pale as death.

"No… that's impossible…" The curly-haired woman's face drained of color. She scrambled to pick up her notebook, fingers trembling. "You were the one plagiarizing! How can you be Emma?"

I leaned back slightly, the chair conforming to the curve of my spine. "My assistant personally brought you here to meet me. Still don't believe it?"

My gaze swept deliberately over the FASHION badges pinned to their chests.

"FASHION, huh? Quite the memorable publication."

All three faces cycled through shades of mortification.

The short-haired woman recovered first. She forced out an extremely strained smile, attempting damage control.

"Ms. Johnson, this is all a terrible misunderstanding! We were just… just exercising professional vigilance. When we see similar design elements, it's natural to be suspicious. We absolutely didn't mean to offend you! This was purely a misunderstanding…"

"I'm sorry." I cut her off, my tone still calm but edged with unmistakable coldness. "As an international premier fashion media outlet, FASHION's editors assess plagiarism without rigorous comparison or professional verification, publicly passing judgment in front of other visitors. That's not remotely professional."

I stood and walked toward them.

My height advantage allowed me to look down at them slightly.

My gaze swept across each of their ID badges one by one as I continued slowly, "This is serious professional negligence. It's baseless slander. And it's trampling on a creator's hard work and reputation."

"Yes, yes, yes, we were wrong." The curly-haired woman looked ready to cry. "We can apologize! Publicly, in the magazine! We'll write whatever you want! Please… please don't make this a bigger deal. If our editor-in-chief finds out, we'll lose our jobs!"

"Lose your jobs?" I tapped my chin thoughtfully, looking at them. "I can keep this quiet. But you need to tell me one thing."

The short-haired woman looked like she'd been resurrected from the dead. "Anything you ask! Whatever it is, we'll make it happen."

I patted the sofa. "Sit."

The three women's deathly pale faces gradually regained some color, but under my gaze, they slowly perched on the edge of the cushions.

"When did Emily win her award?"

I had Aria pour them each a glass of water as I got down to business.

"Huh?"

All three clearly hadn't expected me to ask something so seemingly unrelated. They looked confused.

I glanced at them. They immediately straightened up.

"Just recently. Emily won the gold medal with a wedding dress design. It was organized directly by Campbell Corporation. The winner gets to join Campbell Corporation and enter the most elite design department in the country."

"The finals are coming up soon. If no one can beat Emily, she'll be the champion."

The woman's face turned ashen. "Ms. Johnson, your two designs really do look incredibly similar. You can't blame us."

I looked at her. "Can you get me a copy of Emily's design?"