At the Capital City Art & Calligraphy Competition, the event that was supposed to define my entire career,

the piece I'd poured three years of my life into was publicly accused of plagiarism.

Doctored intimate photos of me and one of the judges filled the main screen.

My mother collapsed on the spot, clutching her chest as her heart gave out.

While the sirens of the ambulance screamed through the chaos, Maxwell Delgado's childhood sweetheart climbed onto the winner's podium.

Maxwell seized my wrist, his warning voice cold enough to freeze bone.

‘Peggy's sick. She doesn't have much time left. This first-place award has to go to her. Don't fight it.’

‘Even if you tried, you wouldn't win. Not against me.’

‘Don't worry. I'll announce our engagement soon. You'll be Mrs. Delgado for the rest of your life. That should more than make up for today.’

I sat beside my mother's cold body in the hospital morgue,

tears hitting the tops of my shoes,

Maxwell Delgado, being your wife will never make up for what I've lost.

But destroying you and her? That'll be enough.

——

Three days later, I knelt in a black dress before my mother's portrait at the memorial service.

The smoke from the incense and candles burned my throat raw and set my eyes on fire.

A wave of perfume rolled in from behind me, sickly sweet enough to turn my stomach.

Maxwell was here.

My mother's body was barely cold, and he'd brought the woman who killed her to pay respects.

Maxwell wore a tailored black suit, his arm wrapped around Peggy Pruitt, who was draped in a cashmere shawl.

Just like that day on the stage, he shielded her completely, not a gap in his armor.

‘Felicia Winfield, Peggy just finished a round of chemo. Go pour her a glass of warm water.’

I didn't move.

Maxwell stepped forward, his dress shoes striking the tile floor, each step echoing sharp and hollow through the empty hall.

‘Felicia.’

He locked his hand around my wrist, exactly like that day at the awards ceremony,

squeezing hard enough to grind my bones together.

‘I'm talking to you. Are you deaf?’

Before I could answer, Peggy was already stepping in. She tugged at the cuff of Maxwell's shirt with her pinky, her voice a soft, pitiful whimper.

‘Max, don't be mean to Felicia. She's so upset right now, how could she possibly think about me? It's fine, really.’

She pressed herself into Maxwell's arms as she spoke,

looking so fragile that even a stranger off the street would have felt sorry for her.

I watched Maxwell's arm tighten around her waist,

pulling her closer with a tenderness so fierce it was as if he wanted to fold her into his body for safekeeping.

‘Felicia.’

Peggy turned to me, holding out a box.

‘I know you're grieving. I brought some calming incense especially for today. I hope it helps your mother rest in peace.’

She extended the box toward me.

I glanced at it once, reached out, and knocked it straight to the ground.

Maxwell's eyes went cold in an instant. He was about to tear into me when he froze mid-step.

I stared at what had spilled across the floor and let out a bitter laugh.

There was no calming incense in that box.

It was the first-place certificate from the Capital City Art & Calligraphy Competition.

On the left side, stamped in gold foil, was the name ‘Peggy Pruitt’, gleaming like a blade aimed straight at my eyes.

The image of my mother crumpling to the ground at the awards gala three days ago tore through my mind, over and over and over.

Hatred churned so violently in my chest I could barely breathe.

I shot to my feet, ripped the certificate from the floor,

and hurled it into the fire burning before my mother's memorial.

‘No……my certificate……’

Peggy let out a piercing scream and lunged for the fire, but before she got close, she crumpled to the ground with a heavy thud.

‘Crack!’

Maxwell's open palm connected with my face.

He shot me a vicious glare, then rushed to Peggy's side and pulled her into his arms.

His hands moved restlessly over her reddened knee, stroking it again and again.

I looked at Maxwell. The only thing in his eyes when he looked back at me was disgust.

Ever since Peggy was diagnosed with leukemia,

Maxwell had taken every ounce of tenderness he once gave me and transferred it to her, piece by piece.

Two years now. Two years, and somehow the leukemia patient's complexion only grew rosier by the day.

Yet Maxwell, a man who'd clawed his way through nearly a decade of cutthroat business, couldn't see anything wrong with that.

He sacrificed his time for her.

He sacrificed our relationship for her.

I thought if I waited long enough, he'd wake up.

But now he'd sacrificed my mother for her.

I was done waiting……

‘Felicia, apologize to Peggy.’

Maxwell's tone left no room for argument.

‘Peggy just finished a round of chemo today, and the first thing she wanted was to come pay respects to your mother. You can't even appreciate that? And you burned her certificate?!’

‘With that kind of pettiness, how do you expect to be Mrs. Delgado?!’

‘Then I won't be.’

I picked up the trophy that had shattered on the ground moments ago.

Its jagged edge sliced into my finger.

Bright red blood seeped across the name engraved on the trophy, ‘Peggy Pruitt,’

I locked my eyes on Maxwell's bewildered face and spoke, slow and deliberate.

‘Maxwell Delgado, I will never be wife to the man who killed my mother.’

‘I want you and her to pay for what you did. Both of you.’

I left the funeral parlor.

I went straight to the Capital City Art & Calligraphy Competition Committee, my original drafts and the full recording of my creative process in hand.

The officials stared at nearly fifty gigabytes of raw drafts, frozen where they stood.

Anyone who has ever truly painted would understand what those files meant.

Three years. Over a thousand days. I'd slept two, maybe three hours a night.

All for that one moment.

‘Felicia, why didn't you present these on the day of the ceremony……?’

Another official nearby pointed at the black mourning band pinned to my shoulder and nudged the one who'd spoken.

The speaker's expression darkened.

Then he clasped my hand tightly.

‘Felicia, don't worry. The committee will make sure you get justice……!’

A shrill ringtone cut him off.

He glanced at the caller ID, released my hand at once, and turned to take the call in the corner.

It lasted only a few minutes.

When he came back, his face was completely different.

I forced down the dread coiling in my chest and stepped forward, testing.

‘Sir, my evidence is solid. Surely this can be resolved quickly?’

The man across from me gripped the USB drive so hard his knuckles went white.

When he looked at me again, every trace of warmth was gone.

‘We'll be in touch. What you submitted doesn't really prove much.’

My heart plummeted.

I lurched forward and grabbed his hand.

‘Sir, this award means everything to me. I've spent half my life painting for this.’

‘My mother already died because of this. I need justice……’

‘I heard you. Didn't I say to go home and wait?!’

He wrenched his hand free.

‘We have work to do. Stop wasting our time.’

The same officials who'd been shaking with righteous anger minutes ago walked away without sparing me another glance.

A security guard was already stationed at the door, ready to drag me out.

I left the committee office in a daze.

The moment I stepped outside, I saw Maxwell's car.

Everything clicked into place.

‘Felicia, I told you. As long as I'm in the picture, you can't win.’

Maxwell lit a cigarette and leaned against the car door, one brow arched as he looked at me.

My fingernails dug deep into my palms.

I stared at him, shaking from head to toe, my voice cracking when I finally spoke.

‘Why?! Maxwell?! How could you?!’

‘You know how long I worked for that award!’

Faced with my fury,

Maxwell blew a slow smoke ring, the corner of his mouth curling upward.

‘There's really no need for all this, Felicia.’

He stepped forward and seized my hand.

‘Compared to being Mrs. Delgado, that worthless little prize means nothing.’

‘I love you, Felicia. I don't want you throwing away my love and patience over something this trivial. Come home with me……’

‘Get off me!’

I ripped my hand free from Maxwell's grip,

swung my arm up, and slapped him square across the face.

‘Maxwell, I already told you. I will never be the wife of the man who killed my mother!’

‘I won't let you get away with this!’

Maxwell clutched his reddening cheek, slammed the car door shut,

and right there in front of the committee building, he laid on the horn at me,

his voice dripping with that same contempt again.

‘Mrs. Delgado, I'm happy to play this game with you. We'll play until you've had your fill. Until you learn to back down and admit you've lost!’

I watched his car tear away in a cloud of dust.

I clenched my fist and drove it into the rough stone wall behind me.

Gravel bit into torn flesh.

Blood mixed with grit seeped through the gaps between my fingers and pooled in my palm,

staining the business card I'd been clutching.

I slowly uncurled my ruined hand and dialed the number on the card.

Maxwell, the one who loses in the end won't be me.

‘Felicia, are you sure about this? If it really goes that far, you and Maxwell will truly be……’

‘I'm sure.’

Cindy Donaldson went silent on the other end for two seconds, then her voice came back low and steady.

‘Alright. As long as you're certain, I'm with you to the end.’

Tears had been swimming in my eyes for a long time.

After those words from Cindy, I couldn't hold them back anymore and let them fall.

It was the first time I'd cried since my mother died.

Cindy must have sensed it through the phone,

because her voice softened.

‘Felicia, you know better than I do what Maxwell is capable of. Brace yourself.’

I looked back at the committee building and managed a bitter smile.

‘I know. I'm ready.’

‘Cindy, let's begin.’

‘Done.’

After I hung up, I watched the trees flicker past the car window, and a cold laugh rose from somewhere deep inside me.

Eight years. I'd been by his side through everything, from green and naive to polished and powerful.

I came from a business family. I understood the dirty tricks of the trade better than Maxwell ever had.

In the beginning, I was the one who taught him, piece by piece.

He learned. He got good at it. He mastered the chessboard.

And now every last bit of it was being used against me.

But it didn't matter. Cindy alone was worth every legal team in Capital City combined.

A shrill ringtone cut through my thoughts.

I hit the answer button.

Maxwell's voice exploded from the other end.

‘Felicia, are you serious?!’

When I didn't respond, his tone eased just a fraction.

‘Felicia, there's really no need for this. You know my company's been dealing with some issues lately.’

‘You're having Cindy sue me now? My entire legal department will have to drop everything for this. You're going to hurt the family business doing this.’