His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 120

The spotlight instantly swung over, pinning Whitley in a blinding halo of white light.

With her back straight and her head held high, she walked onto the stage without a trace of hesitation.

A shockwave rippled through the audience, followed by a sudden, intense buzz of whispers.

Sitting in the front row, Clive Sherwood lifted his gaze, his face an emotionless mask.

Beside him, Yelena wore a smug, victorious smirk, absolutely certain of her triumph.

Whitley stopped at the microphone. Her calm eyes swept across the sea of faces. Without a single word of unnecessary preamble, she clicked the remote, activating the massive screen behind her.

Page after page of raw experimental logs flooded the screen. Every timestamp was accurate down to the minute.

The equipment usage logs were seamless, perfectly aligning with every experimental milestone.

Initial sketches, scrapped drafts, iteration archives—the screen was densely packed with the grueling reality of actual scientific research.

She even displayed her email correspondence and discussion notes with her academic advisors from years ago.

"The accusation of plagiarism is chronologically impossible," Whitley’s voice rang out crisp and clear, echoing through the massive hall. "My research was completed and archived three years ago. Every step of my process is verifiable, traceable, and fully documented."

"As for the so-called 'original proposal' presented by Yelena Nash... the timelines, the logical progression, and even the structural flaws mirror my final draft so perfectly that it looks exactly like a stolen, slightly altered copy of my work."

The moment she finished speaking, a dead silence fell over the room.

The veteran academicians in the front row exchanged heavy glances. Finally, one of the most respected experts picked up his microphone.

"Ms. Yelena Nash, since you claim to be the original author, please present your experimental process, your iteration logs, and your raw drafts to the floor."

The tension in the room skyrocketed.

Sitting in the audience, Yelena didn't lose her composure. She stood up gracefully, meeting the burning stares of hundreds of people without blinking. "Whitley and I lived in the same house for years. We saw each other every day."

"It would have been incredibly easy for her to go through my files and copy my data. I am a victim of theft, and it breaks my heart."

A live, unscripted simulation. There was absolutely nowhere to hide.

Whitley’s eyes flared with a sharp, brilliant light. This was exactly what she had been waiting for.

From the moment she decided to clear her name, she had prepared for every scenario. A basic simulation was child's play; she could handle the most complex variables they threw at her.

Yelena felt a surge of arrogant amusement. She wasn't panicked in the slightest.

In her mind, Whitley was just a washed-up housewife who had spent years out of the lab. Her skills had to be completely rusted. Meanwhile, Yelena had spent years at top-tier institutions abroad, heavily involved in international research. She was leagues above Whitley.

If it came down to raw talent, she was guaranteed to win.

She tilted her chin up, a supremely confident smile spreading across her face. "I have no objections. I'm ready to begin whenever you are."

Standing under the harsh glare of the spotlight, meeting the eyes of everyone in the room, Whitley spoke softly but firmly. "I'm ready."