The Jewelry Designer's Revenge My Husband Gave My Crown to His Mistress

"Ordinary people like us, with no connections, never stand a chance."

"Look at this—they found the original creator. It's a college girl. She even posted all her original drafts, from start to finish. God, that's awful. Her work was straight-up stolen."

"She's still in college! She was counting on the prize money for tuition, and now someone's ripped off her designs. She's got nothing left."

"Leonora Pruitt is a stain on the design industry. Get her out."

"The original artist is named Yvonne Drake. Isn't that the girl from the trending topics yesterday? Poor thing—she was the real victim, and she got cyber-harassed on top of it."

"Leonora is an absolute monster."

The post had been up for half a day, and the firestorm online had already reached a fever pitch.

Bridget's face went pale. "What the hell is going on? Why are your photos up there too? Who did this? This is slander."

"There's no way you plagiarized anyone's work. What are these people even talking about? Someone's targeting you—this has to be a setup."

I saw that the studio had stepped in to respond, with my colleagues confirming they'd watched me design the jewelry with their own eyes. But the moment they spoke up, users mass-reported the post, and the flood of abuse forced them to shut down the comments.

The blood drained from my face. Who else could it be? The only person with access to my computer and my study, the only one who could have taken my original drafts, was Warren.

He'd stolen my design sketches and passed Yvonne off as the original creator.

I never imagined he would go this far for her.

I called Warren. He picked up almost immediately. "Having regrets? Leonora, I told you—I gave you one night. But you did nothing."

My voice caught in my throat. I couldn't get a single word out.

How had it come to this between us? The man who once couldn't bear to see me cry, who'd sworn he never wanted to see my tears again—that same man was now destroying my reputation for another woman, trying to bury me alive.

"Warren, do you really hate me that much?"