Chapter 14
Two weeks into the competition, Katia and I were neck and neck, both storming through each round like two prizefighters heading for the title match. And in the finals, I won. My broker diamond ring design took home the gold. Katia settled for silver.
But, of course, my victory didn’t even get a chance to taste sweet.
On the day of the award ceremony, everything went sideways.
As I stood there, still clutching my trophy, the press swarmed me like bloodthirsty wolves. Microphones shoved into my face, cameras flashing nonstop.
“Miss Leighton, how does it feel to win a gold medal… by plagiarizing?”
“You got this position at Whitlock Jewelry through connections, didn’t you? Was this award also rigged?”
“The design association is discussing revoking your award and banning you from future competitions. Care to comment?”
Then came the kicker – one of them shoved a printed design draft in front of me. My design
draft.
I actually laughed.
Because that was my own work. One I’d done years ago.
“I didn’t plagiarize,” I said calmly. “That draft is my original design.”
The questions kept coming like rapid fire.
“Prove it then! There’s no signature.”
“How convenient to claim it’s yours now.”
“Where’s your respect for real originality?”
It was still all about the design – until one reporter went for the jugular.
‘Rumor has it you were involved with Vincent Blackthorne while he was still married and that the original draft belonged to his wife. Care to explain that, Miss Leighton?”
The second he said Vincent’s name, my entire body stiffened. I hadn’t heard that name spoken
aloud in months.
The press, sensing blood, went rabid. They tried to dig into my past, into my private life, until I could barely hold my footing. The edge of the stage was only a few feet away. In these ridiculous six–inch heels, one misstep could shatter my ankle.
And that’s when it happened.
An arm wrapped firmly around my waist and yanked me back with such force that I crashed into a solid, familiar chest,
Damian.
His jaw was tight as he glared at the reporters. “Are you all trying to livestream a murder here?”
The room went pin–drop silent under his full, furious authority.
Holding me protectively, he faced the press with that cold, corporate voice of his. “Andrea is my
That’s Your 100th Mistress. Time to Leave You
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5:38 pm
lead designer, hired on merit. She did not plagiarize. Aurum Noire stands behind her fully. And whoever’s behind this smear campaign will be dealt with. Thoroughly.
No one dared say another word as he led me out.
For a long moment, I couldn’t stop staring at him. It hit me like a gut punch. Vincent had never defended me like that. Not once. No matter what Sable did, no matter what I said, he always doubted me.
But Damian… I hadn’t even spoken a word in my defense and he’d already stood between me and the world. So this is what it feels like–to be believed.
Without even realizing it, my fingers curled tighter around his hand.
He tapped my forehead lightly and said in a gentle voice, “Didn’t I tell you? I hate seeing you cry.”
I looked into his eyes, feeling my throat tighten again. But this time, it wasn’t from wanting to cry -it was something else entirely. Winning this competition… it wasn’t just about proving Katia wrong anymore. It felt like something much bigger than that.
Damian gently squeezed my fingers. “The timing of this leak is too perfect. Feels like someone close to you handed over that draft. Any guesses?”
Vincent. The name immediately came to mind. He was the only one I’d ever shown that design to. I’d once foolishly asked him to customize it as our wedding ring. He never even glanced at it. Just shoved it somewhere in his study like it meant nothing.
I nodded slowly. “It could’ve come from him.”
Damian let out a sharp breath, his lips curling. “Figures. Blackthorne scum.”
I stayed quiet.
He glanced at me sideways. “If it is really him…. how do you want me to handle it?”
He sounded nervous, like he was bracing himself for me to defend Vincent.
I smiled faintly. “Do whatever you need to do.”
A slow grin spread across his face. “Then I’ll do it my way.”
Of course, his way was anything but normal – especially knowing how Damian operates. But surprisingly, after a full investigation, it turned out Vincent wasn’t the one behind it.
5:38 pm D
