I Ctrl+Alt+Deleted My Ex and Ctrl+C'd His Uncle novel Chapter 68

**Through Silent Meadows We Trace Stories Left Behind**
**Yesterday by Asa Rowan Flint**
**Chapter 68**

Jora’s triumph was not merely a stroke of luck; it was the culmination of her relentless toil, countless nights spent wrestling with her thoughts, and an unwavering commitment to her craft. If it weren’t for the dire circumstances that had forced Sophie into a corner, she would never have resorted to dismantling her own hard-earned achievements.

Yet, beneath the surface, there lay an unspoken truth—much like Liora’s dedication to her art, Sophie would rather embrace a fate of noble solitude than sully her spirit with the grime of compromise.

Ambition had always been Jora’s compass, guiding her through the murky waters of the creative world. Even if she found herself at the starting line once again, there was no way she would ever align herself with the petty and the weak.

Sophie’s lip quivered as she bit down on it, her fingertips betraying her resolve with a slight tremble, as if she had reached a pivotal conclusion.

“No.”

“Liam,” she said, her voice steady yet laced with an edge of defiance, “if you insist on proceeding with this plan, I will use every ounce of strength I possess to safeguard Liora’s integrity. Even if it means bringing everything crashing down around us.”

“I will not hesitate!”

With those resolute words hanging in the air, Sophie pivoted on her heel, striding away with a sense of purpose that left Liam momentarily speechless.

Liam’s gaze darkened, a shadow of unrestrained ruthlessness flickering in his eyes. He wasted no time reaching for his phone, dialing a number with a sense of urgency that spoke volumes.

“Make it happen…”

Inside the Grand Theater, the atmosphere was electric as the voting had reached its conclusion. Holographic projections flickered to life, revealing the vote counts for each piece of work displayed like trophies on a pedestal.

From the outset, the votes for pieces number six and eight had surged at an astonishing pace, pulling away from the rest of the entries like a racehorse out of the gate. In mere moments, these two contenders had forged a lead that left the audience on the edge of their seats, their anticipation palpable.

Number six and number eight were locked in a fierce battle, the vote gap tantalizingly narrow. The crowd held its collective breath, wondering if there was truly a piece from Liora that could stand shoulder to shoulder with her esteemed work.

Could another dark horse emerge from the shadows of the design world?

Sweat dripped down Liam’s forehead, each drop a testament to the pressure weighing heavily on him. He had invested far too much into this endeavor—he had even sacrificed his relationship with Sophie for the sake of this competition. What would happen if number eight fell short today? The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

Marcus’s eyes darted to the empty seat where Sophie should have been, a chill running through him.

“Sophie? Where is she?” he demanded, his voice sharp and cutting through the tension.

“She mentioned she wasn’t feeling well and returned to the hotel to rest,” Liam replied absentmindedly, his focus still fixated on the fluctuating vote count, oblivious to the urgency in Marcus’s question.

Marcus’s expression darkened, a sense of foreboding creeping in as he narrowed his eyes. Something felt amiss.

He pulled out his phone, fingers flying over the screen as he sent a terse message to Chris.

“Check Sophie’s whereabouts.”

Chris, caught in the throes of a cross-country meeting on Marcus’s behalf, nearly dropped his phone upon receiving the message.

This meeting was supposed to be Marcus’s show, yet, in a sudden twist of fate, he had abandoned it halfway through to rush to the Grand Theater. Now, Chris found himself juggling the responsibilities of Marcus while also investigating Liora’s true identity and tracking down Sophie.

If only he could sprout extra heads and arms to manage it all!

As the voting concluded, Liam’s heart, which had been teetering on the brink of hope, plummeted.

Number six had emerged victorious, narrowly defeating number eight!

A wave of bitter frustration surged within him. How could this have happened? Liora absolutely could not lose!

Without a moment’s hesitation, Liam exited the hall, his mind racing as he called his secretary.

“Once the online voting begins, find a way to buy some votes.”

The secretary hesitated, a note of caution in his voice. “Mr. Morgan, the Starlight Cup has stringent regulations against this. If we’re caught, we’ll be blacklisted permanently, and we won’t be able to participate again.”

“If it’s discovered that Liora’s votes were manipulated, your last trump card will be rendered useless.”

“Mr. Morgan, please reconsider,” the secretary pleaded.

Liam sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. “Who said I was going to falsify Liora’s votes…”

As the online voting commenced, Sophie remained conspicuously absent.

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