Evidence

I spent the whole night searching for evidence to prove I did not plagiarize, and I found it in a very niche part of the archives. It was part of my university tutor's collection and did not release more than five issues.

I'd never have asked him to give me a copy if this event hadn't happened. This was where my inspiration came from. I compiled the evidence and sent it to the legal team and my manager.

Then, I logged into X and got into a flame war with Colette. "The proposal is fresh. Incredibly fresh. Too fresh. The resource must be hard to find, so this begs the question. What's your source?"

The internet exploded, and they turned their ire on me. They couldn't believe a thief could be so full of herself.

"Holy shit, are you even listening to yourself, you thief? Your family's ashamed of you!"

"And I used to think your company's not that bad, but you won't even confess to plagiarism. That's it. I'm boycotting you guys."

Some of the smarter, calmer ones thought I was only so confident because I had evidence.

Colette came back with a swift reply, adamantly claiming that the inspiration came to her out of nowhere. "No sources at all. It just came to me straight in my head."

The Internet asked her to show them her creative process and prove me wrong. She said nothing more.

I hummed and kept coming up with the new project's outline. Colette's plagiarism was going to be confirmed sooner or later.

My colleagues were looking at me the wrong way. Even our competitors laughed at me.

"You're a good actor. Project planning isn't for you. Maybe pursue acting."

I was perplexed, and she was amused. Then, she deigned to tell me that Colette showed the Internet proof.

I checked her X and found out she not only posted her whole planning and creative process. There was a handwritten manuscript too. It was how she turned her inspiration into a proposal.

Every step proved that the final proposal came from this. There was evidence of heavy editing in the process. This was proof that would taint my name in the hue of humiliation.

Colette was still on X, telling people not to attack me. "She is my sister. I don't mind her calling me a copycat. Please don't go after her. I know she'll change."

The Internet did not listen. Instead, the abuse came harder than before.

"You copied off your own sister. For all we know, all your previous proposals might be stolen from someone else."

"And I thought you were the victim when you called Colette you. You were just trying to cover your ass."

"You should be blacklisted from the industry. Christ, I can't imagine how many people's futures you've ruined!"

This was a headache. I was still brainstorming ideas on how to handle this matter, but the receptionist came with a call. My mother was looking for me.

The moment I showed my face, my mother stormed up to me and slapped me across my face. The crisp smack got the office's attention. Some of my colleagues peeked their heads out of the entrance to see what had just happened.

My mother said imperiously, "Your future husband is waiting for you. Get your ass home right now and get married this instant! I'll handle you slandering Colette later!"