Chapter 4

Gianna POV

The humiliation at the gala was just the beginning.

The next day, my social media accounts were attacked.

Clara posted several core concept drawings of "Starfall" online with the caption: "Stayed up several nights for this. Hope you all like it."

Below were water army accounts Marcus had bought and Clara's fans flooding the comments with praise.

But soon, sharp-eyed netizens noticed that these concept drawings had a style extremely similar to my previous work.

Clara immediately posted an ambiguous update: "Some art styles are ingrained in your bones, after all I studied abroad for so many years. As for certain people who keep imitating me, I hope you can find your own style."

With these words, she directly painted me as a plagiarist.

"The substitute even plagiarizes the art style? So disgusting!"

"Gianna Hayes get out of the art community! Plagiarism dog!"

Cyberbullying surged like a tsunami. My private messages were flooded with vicious abuse.

I didn't panic. I calmly organized all my drafts, timestamps, and source files from three years of creating "Starfall," preparing to post a clarification.

Just as I was about to press send, my computer screen suddenly went black.

Immediately after, the apartment door was violently pushed open.

Marcus stormed in with an icy aura and snatched my computer, smashing it hard on the ground.

With a loud crash, the computer shattered into pieces.

I froze in place, looking at him in disbelief: "Are you insane?!"

"You're the insane one!" Marcus's eyes were bloodshot as he pointed at my nose and roared. "Gianna, are you trying to drive Clara to death? She saw the controversy online, her depression acted up, and she almost slit her wrists just now!"

I laughed bitterly: "She tried to commit suicide? She stole my life's work, turned the tables to accuse me of plagiarism, and now she's the victim?"

"What stealing? I told you 'Starfall' has already been given to her!" Marcus was completely unreasonable. "Once you post that so-called evidence, Clara's reputation will be completely ruined! She's a girl. How is she supposed to survive in this industry after that?"

"What about my reputation? My life's work?!" My eyes reddened, my voice hoarse. "Marcus, I'm also a girl, and I've been with you for six years! For her sake, you're going to destroy me completely?"

Looking at my red eyes, a flash of reluctance crossed Marcus's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by coldness.

"You're strong inside. Being cursed at won't hurt you. Clara is different. She's too fragile." Marcus pulled out a black card from his wallet and threw it on the table. "There's five million in this card. Password is your birthday. Post an update immediately admitting you imitated Clara's art style and publicly apologize to her. Then this matter is over."

I looked at that black card as if looking at the filthiest thing in the world.

"What if I don't apologize?"

"Then don't blame me for being ruthless." Marcus's eyes were ice cold. "I'll have legal sue you for violating company trade secrets and make sure you can never pick up a pen again."

To protect Clara, he would personally destroy my career.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

When I opened them again, only deathly stillness remained.

"Fine. I understand."

Marcus thought I'd given in. His expression softened slightly: "Be good. Once this blows over, I'll take you to Europe for a vacation."

With that, he hurriedly turned and left, rushing back to the hospital to accompany his white moonlight.

I looked at the computer fragments scattered across the floor without picking up that black card.

I took out my phone and called Xavier.

"Xavier, I agree to the arranged marriage. Come pick me up and take me home."