Chapter 4

Her voice was hoarse, but she forced out every word. "I knew absolutely nothing about what you just said. The work I submitted was indeed done by me, independently."

"If you believe there is plagiarism, please show direct evidence that "I" copied it, rather than blaming me because of my mother."

I looked at her.

She stared back, her eyes red but her chin held high.

In this regard, she was nothing like Vivian.

Before Vivian ran off with the money, she had cried like a baby in front of my mother, saying, "Sister, I’m so glad I have you." Then she turned around and wiped the place clean.

"Miss Sterling," I picked up my glass and took a sip of water. It was just the right temperature.

"I have no obligation to prove anything to you. As a judge, I have the right to grade based on my professional judgment."

"Your work is suspected of plagiarism, and I voted to eliminate you. That is well within my authority. If you are unsatisfied, you can appeal to the committee after the show."

I set my glass down and nodded at the host. "Continue."

The host swallowed hard, finally finding his voice. "Right... okay, next contestant, please get ready..."

Summer still didn't move.

She stared at me with a complex mix of grievance, anger, and something I couldn't quite decipher.

Probably resentment.

After all, this was likely the first time in her life she had been publicly rejected so brutally.

But today, she had run straight into a brick wall.

"Why are you still standing there?" I shot her another look. "Your evaluation is over."

Summer took a deep breath, turned, and walked off the stage.

As she descended, the sharp clicks of her heels on the floor echoed through the quiet room.

As the next contestant walked up, I leaned back, my fingers resting on the edge of the grading sheet, my eyes scanning the new girl.

She was very young, maybe two years younger than Summer. Her voice trembled when she spoke, but her designs actually had substance.

I gave her an above-average score, neither holding her back nor overhyping her.

Beside me, Maya wanted to say something several times.

During the intermission, she finally couldn't hold it in anymore. She grabbed my sleeve and pulled me into a corner.

"Elena, what the hell are you doing? You were too impulsive today! Summer is Vivian’s daughter. Don't you know Vivian's status in this industry?"

"She controls half of the supply chain. If you cross her, how are you going to survive in this business?"

I looked into Maya’s eyes. They were filled with anxiety and frustration on my behalf.

She genuinely cared about me, and I appreciated that.

But some things couldn't be measured by business interests.

"Maya," I gently pulled my sleeve from her grip. "Do you know how my mother died?"

Maya froze.

She had known me for years, but I rarely mentioned my mother.

Every time she asked, I would change the subject.

This was the first time I had ever brought it up myself.

"She died of overwork," I said. "Cleaning houses by day, driving Uber by night. On the night she died, she had been driving for eleven consecutive hours. She rear-ended a truck on the highway right after her last trip."

Maya opened her mouth, but no words came out.

"She worked herself to death to pay off debts. Debts that Vivian left her." I turned and walked away, saying nothing more.

The afternoon session continued.

Summer didn't return to the audience, and Vivian was nowhere to be seen.

But I knew this wouldn't end here.

Sure enough.

At eight o'clock that night, my phone started buzzing.

The first message was from my business partner: "Elena, this is bad! Go online right now!"