Chapter 5

At noon, Carter sent me a text on WhatsApp.

“Bring your original design sketches to the exhibition hall. Chloe needs them for her judge interview this afternoon.”

I didn't go. I sat in the damp basement storage room and opened my laptop.

My cloud backup was empty.

My entire life's work from the past three years had been wiped out.

The entire series of sketches titled "Rebirth" was gone.

I had worked on them for three long years. Countless sleepless nights, hundreds of worn-down pencils.

I wanted to show them to the world on the Paris stage.

But now, they were gone.

I called Carter.

Before the call connected, I turned on the recording on my backup phone again.

He took his time answering. In the background, I could hear the soft jazz of a high-end restaurant and the clinking of expensive cutlery.

"What now?"

"Where are my cloud sketches?"

There was a two-second silence on the other end.

"Chloe needed a headline collection to apply to Parsons. I copied your sketches for her."

"And I cleared the cloud so you wouldn't do anything stupid and ruin her chances."

I shook so hard my teeth clattered.

"Who gave you the right to steal my life's work?"

Carter's voice turned icy, filled with the arrogant condescension of a wealthy heir.

"Maya, can you stop being so selfish?"

"You're just an undergraduate. Those sketches are wasted in your hands anyway."

"Chloe is different. She actually needs them."

I let out a harsh laugh.

"So my future is just a stepping stone for her?"

"It's just borrowing your name temporarily."

"Carter, that was three years of my life!"

He fell silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was utterly heartless.

"Maya, don't bite the hand that feeds you. Without the Wilson family's resources, do you honestly think you'd even be in Paris?"

I hung up.

Ten minutes later, the design community back home went into a frenzy.

Chloe had posted a set of design sketches on Instagram and Twitter.

The caption read: “East Coast Aesthetics: My Paris Debut.”

The first slide was my main collection blueprint.

The second slide was my embroidery breakdown.

The third was a highly edited photo of her wearing my damaged gown.

The comments below were filled with worship.

"Chloe is a literal genius!"

Our college dean even posted in the student group chat:

"Chloe, this collection is outstanding. It’s enough to secure your early admission to Parsons. We are so proud of you."

I grabbed my coat and stormed towards the Michelin-starred restaurant they were at.

I kicked the private dining room door open.

Carter was leaning over, patiently cutting a steak for Chloe.

He had never cut my food for me.

Once, when I accidentally cut my hand while rushing a deadline and couldn't even hold a fork, he had mocked me, saying I couldn't even feed myself.

But now, that perfectly cut steak was placed right in front of Chloe.

The waiter served foie gras.

Carter subconsciously said, "Maya can't eat organ meats, it makes her sick."

My steps paused.

The next second, he pushed the expensive white truffle pasta to Chloe.

"You have a delicate stomach, eat this."

I felt a sudden wave of absurdity.

He remembered everything. He just consciously chose to give his care to someone else.

I marched over and held out my hand.

"Give me the flash drive with my sketches."

Chloe’s eyes instantly turned red, looking like a frightened little deer.

"Maya, I really just wanted to try my best to prove myself..."

I stared at her coldly.

"By stealing someone else's work? Does that prove you're a thief?"

Carter slammed his fork onto the plate, making a sharp, metallic screech.

"Maya, watch your mouth!"

"If you're so worried about being clean, maybe you shouldn't have done something so filthy!"

The room fell into a dead silence.

Carter stood up, his tall frame towering over me, his face extremely dark.

"Do you have to embarrass us abroad and ruin this dinner?"

"You ruined my entire life!"

Chloe sobbed, shaking her head.

"Maya, Carter gave me the sketches. I thought you agreed to it."

"If I knew you didn't want to, I would rather die than use them."

Carter wrapped his arm around her shoulders, glaring at me.

"I gave them to her. If you have a problem, take it out on me."

I sneered.

"Great. Then post a public statement right now telling the world who actually drew those sketches!"

He instantly went quiet.

Chloe wept even harder, clutching Carter’s shirt.

"Maya, why do you have to push Carter like this?"

"You already have so many great designs. Can't you just let me have this one?"

The next second, my phone screen lit up. It was an official email from our college board.

“Maya, we have received a formal plagiarism report accusing you of stealing Chloe’s showcase designs.”

“Your graduation portfolio review has been suspended, and your degree is being withheld.”

Immediately after, an email from the top NYC design studio I had signed with popped up.

“Dear Miss Maya, due to a severe academic and commercial plagiarism controversy, your employment offer has been rescinded.”

I stood frozen, staring at the words on the screen. My blood turned to absolute ice.

I found out later that the "formal report" had been sent by Chloe herself.

She had recorded the confrontation in the private room earlier, edited it to make me look like a hysterical bully trying to steal her work, and sent it to the school and the studio.

She didn't just want to steal my designs.

She wanted to brand me as a plagiarist forever, ensuring I could never work in this industry again.

I didn't have a powerful family like Carter.

I didn't have the luxury of crying to get whatever I wanted like Chloe.

That job offer was my only ticket to a better life.

And they had just destroyed it.

Seeing my pale face, Carter frowned.

"What's wrong?"

I threw my phone straight at his chest.

He looked down at the screen, and for a fleeting moment, a flash of panic crossed his eyes.

But Chloe quickly tugged his sleeve, her voice trembling.

"Carter, I'm scared... did I do something wrong?"

And just like that, his guilt vanished.

He tossed the phone back onto the table and said in a patronizing, dismissive voice:

"Maya, don't blow this out of proportion."

"If you just post a statement saying you 'inspired' each other, Chloe is kind enough not to sue you."

I looked at this man I had loved for five years in sheer disbelief.

"You want me, the actual creator, to publicly apologize to a thief?"

He avoided my eyes, sounding irritated.

"We need to quiet down the media first! You don't have a backup. If you fight this, you will lose!"

I threw my head back and laughed. I laughed so hard tears came out of my eyes.

The designs were mine, she was the thief, he was the accomplice who handed her the knife.

And yet, I was the one who had to kneel and apologize.