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?

no interest? She had wanted to prove her mettle to him, but

the present. She handed

Whitney’s breath hitched.

that

a rising unease and settled down with her

room fell into a stunned silence.

the screen, where her work was displayed next to Monica’s–identical in

How can your work

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

flurry of speculation about plagiarism. Whitney’s eyes turned to ice. So that was why

with a thunderous rage, Whitney declared, “That design is my original creation. Monica

my concept.”

what are you talking about?

Aaron, intervened. “We have identical submissions, and one must be a copy. You both claim originality, so present your

her assistant, who pulled up the file history on her laptop. The assistant’s face went ashen. “Whitney…” she stammered, pointing to

their work

her fists, a cold dread sinking in. As she glanced up, she caught Monica smirking triumphantly, her laptop in

on Whitney; she had walked

Aaron, who projected the file dates

Aaron turned

of that traditional style jewelry is mine. I can detail

conferred and

to explain

carefully while nodding, their faces filled with

saying, “Sis, that is

continued on Whitney’s words, claiming Whitney’s ideas as her own, describing