Love Beyond the Mask by Adelaide Sinclair

Chapter 38

In the morning light, Whitney, Tiana, and their assistant, each toting a laptop, strode into the competition hall–a hive of creativity and cutthroat ambition.

As they entered, the sleek company vehicle of Skye Gem Ltd. slid to a halt at the entrance. Monica stepped out, her stilettos clicking a rhythmic challenge to the pavement, followed by the formidable procession of her design entourage. The contrast was stark; Whitney’s party felt distinctly out of place, almost shabby.

Their gazes met across the charged space, a silent battle in their standoff.

Monica sauntered past Whitney, her eyebrow arching in a slow, condescending smile. “Look who showed up. Best of luck, Sis. I’m sure you’ll need it to snag first place,” she teased with a voice dripping in lazy sarcasm.

Tiana bristled. “What’s with her snide remarks? And that smug smile–she knows full well your talent. She should be the one shaking in her boots, the fake.”

Whitney’s frown deepened. Tiana’s words echoed her thoughts. Monica’s confidence was unsettling. Even though Monica might have pilfered Whitney’s earlier designs, Whitney had brought her A–game with her latest collection, far surpassing her previous work. Yet Monica appeared utterly unfazed.

Something was amiss.

Tiana’s phone rang abruptly, and she exchanged a few terse words with the person on the other end.

Whitney recognized the voice of Tiana’s fiancé.

“Go,” she urged, “I’ll manage.”

“Of all times for a lunch date. At least Stella is nearby for an ad meeting. Don’t worry about me,” Tiana reassured Whitney before heading out.

Whitney nodded and, with her assistant in tow, proceeded inside.

Her eyes swept the judges‘ panel, a hint of surprise crossing her face–Ludwik, her notorious rival, was conspicuously absent. Was he not the head judge?

a compromising offer just days before, and now he showed no interest? She had wanted to prove her mettle to him, but perhaps it was for the best. It was better

the present. She handed in her designs and returned to her seat, only to

Whitney’s breath hitched.

that smile

unease and

were displayed on the large screen, the room fell into a stunned silence. The crowd

work was displayed next to Monica’s–identical in every

happening? How

abruptly, her gaze piercing Whitney with incredulity. “Sis, how come

of speculation about plagiarism. Whitney’s eyes turned

rage, Whitney declared, “That

my concept.”

face twisted into a mask of martyrdom. Sis, what are you talking about? That’s clearly my design.” The audience and

and one must be a copy. You both claim originality,

history on her laptop. The assistant’s face went ashen. “Whitney…” she stammered, pointing to a blank

their work had

she glanced up, she caught Monica smirking triumphantly, her laptop in hand

on Whitney; she had walked right

to Aaron, who projected the file dates on the screen–October

Whitney.” Aaron turned to her.

concept of that traditional style jewelry is mine. I can detail the entire creative process to

the judges conferred and agreed

explain down

listened carefully while nodding, their

suddenly, Monica cut Whitney off, saying, “Sis,

words, claiming Whitney’s ideas as her own, describing the most intricate details of