Exposing the Plagiarist Queen

The rapid clicks of camera shutters exploded around her.

My former star editor rushed over, grabbing her arm to pull her up.

“Ruby, what are you doing? Why would you get on your knees for a plagiarist?

“She did this to herself. You just signed a major contract with the company—don’t forget, you’ve got future projects to deliver.”

I had no interest in sticking around to be their punching bag, so I turned and walked out.

To avoid the swarm of reporters, I slipped through a side exit and caught a cab back to my apartment.

On the way home, my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing with social media notifications.

I opened the app, only to find that four of the top ten trending topics were about me:

#VeraMasonPlagiarism

#VeraMasonRubyQuinn

#RubyQuinnForcedToKneel

#RubyQuinnGhostwriterScandal

Vicious marketing accounts had twisted the truth, denying my authorship of every work I had ever created.

They claimed I stole Ruby Quinn’s ideas and even blackmailed her into being my ghostwriter.

The comment section under my profile was a nightmare:

“Ugh, disgusting! Can’t believe I ever supported a plagiarizing fraud.”

“I watched the live conference—Vera Mason couldn’t say a word to defend herself, and in the end, she humiliated Ruby and made her get on her knees!”

“Good thing she knows to quit writing and disappear. If not, I’d drive her out of the industry myself!”

“Even her own boyfriend exposed her. Vera Mason, what kind of person are you?”

“I bet she’s just running off now that she’s made enough money. Ruby should sue her into the ground!”

My DMs were worse—a flood of insults and threats.

Meanwhile, on Ruby’s social media account, her follower count was skyrocketing, and her comments were filled with waves of support and encouragement:

“Stay strong, Ruby! We believe in you!”

“You’re the real talent here. Don’t let this mess bring you down!”

I left a single comment under her post:

“Well then, good luck finishing the rest of the story. Don’t let your readers down.”

I knew I didn’t have much of my draft stockpile left so she was running out of stolen material.

Ruby was too impatient. She was afraid that I would publish my manuscript before finishing it, so she rushed to release what she stole first, trying to get ahead of me.

But the plot twists and foreshadowing I had carefully planted? She would never be able to pull them off.

Exposing her was only a matter of time.

*

I arrived back at my rental apartment.

The place was modest. It was about 900 square feet but I had made it cozy and warm.

The worn walls were covered with photos arranged in the shape of a heart.

Pictures of me and Carter.

However, every single one was secretly taken by me and printed without his knowledge.

He never let me take pictures with him.

He refused to post me on social media, and on anniversaries, he would vanish without a word.

I paid for everything—rent, utilities, dates, groceries. It was always me.

Without hesitation, I messaged my landlord, breaking the lease even though I would have to pay a penalty.

Then, I started packing—tossing what I didn’t need, boxing up what I did. I moved fast, determined to leave this place behind.

As I packed, there was a sudden knock at the door.

I opened it to find Carter and Ruby standing there.

“Vera, are you moving out?” Ruby’s voice was sweet, but her eyes were calculating. She reached for my hand with fake concern.

I pulled my hand back, my face cold and unreadable.

Carter stood beside her, his arms crossed, his eyes filled with contempt.

The sneer on his face was unmistakable.

“Moving out?” he scoffed. “Last I checked, her dad passed away years ago. The money she earned has been used to pay off his medical debts.

“A place like this, renting at one grand a month, was already stretching her thin. If she’s moving, it’s probably to some rundown shoebox apartment.”

My voice was flat and cold. “What do you want?”

Carter’s disgust twisted his expression. “Apologize to Ruby. Publicly. Admit you stole from her.”

*

My jaw clenched, and a vein throbbed at my temple.

Was he serious?

I shot him a furious glare, my voice cutting and cold.

“Carter, don’t you know the truth? After all these years living off me, how dare you stand there and say this to me?”