Framed by My Ex,But I Was Dead Last

The moment I registered for the National Ink Painting Invitational, strange text began scrolling across my vision:

[Here it comes! The idealized love ex-boyfriend returns from abroad, steals the male lead's artwork, gets exposed and humiliated, reputation destroyed!]

[Sure, the female lead and her ex were childhood sweethearts, but they haven't seen each other in seven or eight years. No way that competes with a couple who's been inseparable day and night!]

[idealized love? Please. Jack Gilbert is just a dumped villain. Stop hyping him up.]

A young man approached me—dressed in the same style I used to favor.

"Hi, I'm Cliff Fox from the class next door. I've heard you're an incredible painter. Always wanted to meet you. Never expected we'd run into each other at the same competition."

I gave him a cool nod.

After the results were announced, Cliff grabbed me, eyes rimmed red.

"You switched our paintings, didn't you? Using such dirty tricks to win—doesn't that eat at you?"

Bonnie James, one of the judges, appeared beside him. Her brow furrowed so deeply you could've crushed a fly between her eyebrows.

"Go to the Organizing Committee and withdraw yourself. You have no right to advance to the finals!"

Contemptuous stares bore into me from all directions. I turned and pointed at the worst piece hanging on the wall.

"Win what, exactly? I came in dead last. I couldn't advance if I wanted to."

The bullet comments went wild: [Wait wait wait—what the hell is happening?!]

——

Cliff's jaw dropped. "Aren't you supposed to be some kind of painting prodigy? There's no way that chicken scratch is yours!"

Bonnie—who had pretended not to know me during registration—suddenly seized my wrist.

"Jack Gilbert! You've been studying art since childhood. You spent seven or eight years training overseas. How could you possibly be last?!"

I was momentarily speechless.

If she recognized me, then she should know.

I've always studied oil painting—not traditional ink.

I only entered this competition because my parents mentioned Bonnie was one of the judges. They specifically asked me to give her a nice surprise.

I registered on a whim. Never intended to place.

Then those bullet comments appeared and threw me completely off balance.

Cliff wiped his tears dramatically. "You're obviously a repeat offender. All those awards you've won—you stole them too, didn't you? We grew up together. I can't just stand by and watch you keep making mistakes!"

I couldn't make sense of his rapid-fire accusations.

When had I ever stolen anyone's work?

And as for Bonnie and me "growing up together"—

Our fathers' companies had collaborated a few times. We'd met maybe three or four occasions, the last one seven or eight years ago.

How did that qualify as growing up together?

The bullet comments calling me her "ex-boyfriend"? That was just kids playing house. Bonnie and I had never actually dated.

Yet she'd already pronounced me guilty.

"Withdraw from the competition quietly. Hold a press conference and return all the glory that doesn't belong to you." Her grip tightened. "Otherwise, don't force me to break off our engagement!"

She was surprisingly strong. She'd dragged me several steps before I could even think to resist.

I frowned. "Engagement?"

My parents had never mentioned any arranged marriage. They'd always supported me finding love on my own.

What was she talking about?

My genuine confusion must have looked like fear to her.

Disdain flickered in her eyes. "If my parents hadn't insisted I get close to you, I wouldn't have spared you a second glance!"

Cliff let tears roll down his cheeks, playing the gracious victim.

"If he won't admit it, just let it go. It's only a competition. There's always next year."

Before I could reiterate that I really did come in last—that I hadn't pulled any tricks—

Bonnie rushed to shield him.

"You come from nothing, Cliff! You were counting on winning first place to pay your tuition! By next year, you'll have dropped out!"