Plagiarist in My Studio, His Deep Regret

“Miss, should we issue a statement?” my assistant asked nervously, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Clarify?” I let out a cold laugh. “Do you really think a clarification will silence gossip? They don’t care about the truth—they want a spectacle.”

I tossed the newspaper into the fireplace, watching as the flames devoured those glaring headlines.

“If they want a show,” I murmured, “then I’ll give them one worth watching.”

Three days later, the press conference.

The hall glittered with bright chandeliers, cameras flashing in dizzying bursts.

Ethan stood confidently on stage in a tailored suit, while Chloe wore a pristine white dress, her face radiant with a carefully cultivated fragility.

But the moment she began speaking, her voice cracked into a trembling sob.

“I know many of you hold prejudice against me, but I’m willing to prove myself with real talent.

The misunderstandings of the past… maybe they happened because I was young, reckless, and didn’t clarify things in time, which led people to believe I had plagiarized.”

She paused, gazing at the reporters through tear-filled eyes, her voice quivering.

“But as for some of those drafts—who first sketched them—well, I believe those who truly know the industry already understand.”

The words hit like a bombshell.

The room erupted. She hadn’t said it outright, but the insinuation was clear enough to spark suspicion:

Could the plagiarism scandal of years past have been a cover-up?

Was the so-called genius architect Sophia Carter actually the plagiarist?

Ethan quickly took the microphone, his tone steady and authoritative.

“I believe Chloe. I hope you’ll give her a chance.

She and Sophia were classmates in college—both rivals and partners who pushed each other forward. The Miller Family is willing to guarantee the projects she’ll lead in the future.”

Chloe turned to him with glistening gratitude in her eyes. He returned the look with open tenderness, as though they were the ones about to be engaged.

The press surged with excitement, flashes snapping like lightning, reporters whispering feverishly among themselves.

Then, slowly, I walked onto the stage.

My black gown swept the floor, my makeup was understated, but the cold fire in my eyes was impossible to miss.

I didn’t spare a glance at Chloe or Ethan. Instead, I faced the sea of cameras head-on, my voice sharp and unwavering.

“Since we’re discussing talent and clarification, why don’t we have Chloe present hers—right here, right now.”

I raised my hand toward the giant screen behind me.

“This is my latest proposal, submitted last month—City of Dawn.”

The screen lit up, revealing sweeping lines and a bold, visionary design.

The hall fell silent; reporters held their breath.

A faint, icy smile curved my lips.

“If she truly has the ability, let her offer a revision… or better yet, present her own design and compete against mine.”

Chloe’s face drained of color.

Moments ago, she had implied I was a plagiarist. Now, with the spotlight fixed on her, she couldn’t form a single word.

Her hands gripped the edge of the table, knuckles trembling, her eyes darting wildly. Even her breath seemed to falter.

The silence in the hall grew suffocating. The cameras zoomed in, magnifying every flicker of panic on her face.

Reporters lifted their microphones but didn’t dare speak; only the relentless clicking of shutters and the harsh glare of flashbulbs filled the air, weaving a blinding white pressure around her.

Chloe’s lips trembled. Her pale face glistened with tears, the makeup she had so carefully applied streaking into ruin.