Chapter 3

3

I left the legal drama to my parents. I had a competition to win.

Despite Vivienne's attempts to sabotage me, I had submitted my backup entry through a private channel.

Unsurprisingly, my work was shortlisted for the grand prize.

At the awards ceremony, the host was just about to announce my name when the doors swung open.

"Stop! This result is a fraud!"

Everyone turned to see Ashton Brooks marching down the aisle.

He looked at me with a mix of fake hurt and defiance.

"Caleb Thorne, I know you're powerful, but I won't let you steal my future."

I narrowed my eyes. "What are you talking about?"

Ashton turned to the crowd, his voice trembling like a victim's.

"The design that won first place... it isn't his. He stole it from me."

Vivienne stepped out from behind him, looking like a righteous crusader.

"Caleb, I don't know why you're so desperate for fame. You knew I was helping Ashton, so you went into my office and stole his sketches."

"You were born with a silver spoon. You have no idea how hard people like Ashton have to work to get ahead."

"Give him back what belongs to him. Apologize to everyone here for being a thief."

I gritted my teeth so hard they ached.

She was trying to destroy my professional reputation in front of the entire industry.

If I confessed to plagiarism here, I would never work as a designer again. My career would be dead before it even started.

Even though my heart was already broken, this felt like a new, deeper betrayal.

"I designed that piece with my own hands," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "I have never stolen anything in my life."

Ashton let out a loud, mocking laugh.

"Your own hands?"

"That ring was a tribute I designed for Vivienne. She's my muse, my North Star."

"I knew I could never be with her, so I put all my love for her into that ring. It was supposed to be a blessing for her future marriage."

I stared at him, shocked.

That ring was actually the engagement ring I had designed specifically for Vivienne.

I had filled it with secret symbols of our history. She must have told him everything just to help him lie.

The veins in my forehead were throbbing.

"You're a rich heir, so you think you can do whatever you want," Ashton shouted. "But today, the truth comes out!"

Vivienne pulled out her phone and connected it to the big screen.

A video started playing. It was grainy security footage of me entering her study, looking through papers, and leaving with a folder.

"What do you have to say for yourself now?" Vivienne asked, her eyes cold.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

They had set this up perfectly. That was me in the video, but I was just looking for my own car keys that day.

I had no way to prove what was in that folder.

Suddenly, someone in the audience threw a crumpled program at me. Then came the insults.

"You're pathetic! Stealing from a poor kid?"

"Get this trash out of here! He's a disgrace to the arts!"

"Thank god Vivienne is brave enough to speak up. Most rich girls would just cover for their boyfriends."

I stood there, covered in trash, staring at Vivienne.

She walked up to the judges.

"He's a thief. He doesn't deserve to be in this building. Kick him out."

"No! This is my work!" I roared, but my voice was drowned out by the boos of the crowd.

The head judge looked at me with disappointment.

"Mr. Thorne, please leave. we need to investigate these allegations thoroughly."

My heart sank. Total despair washed over me.

"It's mine," I whispered one last time.

"Can you prove it?" the judge asked.

I went silent. I didn't have my process sketches with me. I had left them at home.

The security guards moved toward me. "Sir, please come with us."

I was about to turn away when a loud, clear voice rang through the hall.

"Wait! I have proof that Caleb is the real designer!"