Chapter 102

But she had. I watched in horror as the judges leaned forward, their earlier approval of my work forgotten in the face of Serena's creation. The audience's reaction to my dress felt pale and polite compared to the genuine awe her design inspired.

I felt Olivia's hand on my arm. "Nina, are you okay? You look-"

I shrugged her off, maintaining my smile through sheer force of will. But inside, rage and disbelief churned.

My hands are trembling as I watch the scores climb on the massive display screen. The bright stage lights suddenly seem suffocating. Serena stands there, perfectly poised as always, while I fight to keep my expression neutral. God, I hate how she makes everything look so effortless.

The lead judge's voice echoes through the auditorium. "Despite its simplicity in design, the technical execution is remarkable..." She's talking about Serena's piece.

I grip the hem of my dress, trying to ground myself. The fabric bunches between my fingers as I do the mental math - even with Ian's strategic low scores, there's no way to overcome the point gap. Twenty percent from the judges isn't enough to tip the scales when her technical scores are so overwhelmingly superior.

Nina's POV

The reality crashes over me like ice water: I'm going to lose. Again.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. I'd planned everything perfectly. No way Serena pulled that off, this is some kind of scam. Lucas had to be the one helping her! I bet my life she didn't do it herself!

My gaze darts to Evelyn, seeking any sign of support. She's studying Serena's design with an intensity that makes my stomach churn. For a terrible moment, I think she too has fallen under Serena's spell - but then her eyes meet mine.

There's a flash of something calculated in her expression, followed by the slightest nod. It's barely perceptible, but I know that look. It's the same one she wore when we discussed contingency plans, the quiet assurance that she hasn't forgotten our arrangement.

I force myself to breathe normally, though my heart is still racing. This isn't the end. It's barely even the beginning.

Lucas's POV

I gestured to Miles to enable the comment section on the livestream. The notifications from group lit up my phone screen.

Drew's messages came in rapid succession:

"Serena absolutely killed it tonight, right out of the gate!"

I watched the screen, maintaining my usual composed expression even as Miles cast occasional glances my way.

"What the hell is wrong with these judges?" Drew continued. "Calling her design 'simple'? Don't they understand the difference between simple and minimalist? Even I get that, and I'm just a restaurant owner."

The corner of my mouth twitched slightly. Drew's indignation was amusing, but not entirely misplaced. The bias against Serena was becoming increasingly apparent.

"You know," another message popped up, "Evelyn's got her charms - caught my eye back in the day. But tonight? In Serena's design? She's on another level entirely."

The comment section of the livestream was equally passionate:

"How is this just luck? Serena's talent is undeniable!"

"I used to think Nina's designs were great, but this comparison is brutal..."

"These judges must be blind! Or bought. How else could they downplay Serena's work like this?"

"Still team Nina! She's probably holding back to keep things interesting."

I leaned back in my chair, fingers unconsciously tapping against the armrest as the second round began. The theme "Phantom" flashed across the screen in bold letters.

Nina first took center stage, her movements confident but somehow rigid. There was something desperate in her efficiency.

Olivia Warren emerged wearing Nina's creation, and I noticed the subtle tremor in Nina's hands as she made final adjustments.

The camera caught Nina's expression as she watched the judges. Her eyes held that familiar look - the same one I'd seen countless times in business meetings when someone from a modest background tried too hard to prove themselves. But there was something else there too: a burning fixation whenever she glanced at Serena.

"Sir," Miles spoke softly, drawing my attention back to the present. "Should I prepare the preliminary reports for tomorrow's meeting?"

I shook my head slightly, my eyes still fixed on the screen. "Let's see this through first."

Serena's POV

"The next presentation will begin in five minutes," a stagehand announced, clipboard in hand.

I nodded, trying to shake off the growing unease in my stomach. The design I'd created for Evelyn was bold but elegant - a silver-white masterpiece that should have made her ethereal.

I left the workshop area, walked past the changing room where Evelyn was switching into the gown I had designed, and headed to the stage to await her showcase.

The audience's collective gasp drew my attention to the runway. My heart stopped. There, gliding down the catwalk, was Evelyn - but the dress she wore wasn't mine. Instead of my carefully crafted silver-white creation, she was draped in cascading red roses, the fabric moving like liquid fire under the spotlights.

"This is... perfect!" someone in the audience exclaimed.

My fingers dug into my palms as I fought to keep my expression neutral. The dress was stunning, I had to admit - but it wasn't mine. Every fold, every detail screamed of a different designer's touch. It looked similar, but it's all a bit fuzzy in my mind. As Evelyn reached the end of the runway, she threw a practiced smile toward the judges, then caught Nina's eye in the front row.

That's when I saw it - the barely perceptible smirk they shared, a flash of triumph passing between them.

*I waited outside for Evelyn for fifteen minutes, and in that moment, I knew something was wrong. But I was already on stage - there was no turning back.*

I had prepared myself for the possibility that she might tamper with my dress. I had even planned for it-if she damaged my design, I would mend it right there. I could explain it away, say she accidentally tore it while trying it on. At worst, it would cost me a few impression points, nothing that would significantly impact the final result.

What I never anticipated was that Evelyn would have the audacity to completely switch out the dress in front of everyone.

This couldn't have been a spontaneous decision. From bringing in the dress to the backstage fitting room, to having the staff assist with the change-everything must have been meticulously planned in advance.

Bold move, certainly, but there were no cameras in the fitting room. A dress swap wouldn't be impossible to pull off with the right preparation.

I maintained my composure. It occurred to me, with cold clarity, that my original design had likely already been whisked away by planted staff members. Even if I exposed her now, I had no proof.

After all, for dramatic effect, we designers had been required to work in sealed black rooms from start to finish.

Yes, there were supervisors in those black rooms, but whether they had been bought off by Ian? That wasn't even a question worth asking.

I'd spent so many rounds guarding against Nina and Ian, only to be outmaneuvered in the final round.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer's voice boomed, "please welcome our final contestant of the evening!"

The audience erupted in applause. I remained frozen in place, my mind racing through options.

When the judges announced their decision, I wasn't surprised. The red rose dress had captured everyone's imagination. Nina approached me after the ceremony, her face a mask of sweet innocence.

"Congratulations, dear sister," she said, eyes glittering with barely concealed satisfaction. "I just knew you would win."

I accepted her embrace, feeling the eyes of the crowd on us. "Thank you, Nina," I replied, my voice steady despite the anger burning in my chest. "It's certainly been an... illuminating evening."