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?

he showed no interest? She had wanted

the present. She handed in her designs and returned to

Whitney’s breath hitched.

did that smile

suppressed a rising unease and settled down with her

were displayed on the large screen, the room fell into a

where her work was displayed next to Monica’s–identical in every way. Her assistant’s grip

happening? How

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

sent a ripple through the audience, sparking a flurry of speculation about plagiarism. Whitney’s eyes turned to ice.

“That design is my original creation. Monica has

my concept.”

talking about? That’s clearly my design.” The audience

a copy. You

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

their work had

a cold dread sinking in. As she glanced up, she caught Monica smirking

dawned on Whitney; she had walked

to Aaron, who projected the file dates

Aaron turned

issue,” Whitney said, her voice like steel. “But Aaron, the concept of that traditional style jewelry

conferred and agreed to

began to explain down

nodding, their faces filled with

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

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