Jealousy Alpha's Regret novel Chapter 126

Chapter 126

Iris’s POV

“You’re lying! You can’t be Aurora!” Megan’s voice cut through the

stunned silence of the exhibition hall.

I almost smiled. Finally, she’s showing her true colors. I’d been waiting

for this moment since I stepped onto that stage. With deliberate

calm, I took several steps toward the edge of the platform, looking

down at her from my elevated position. The spotlight felt warm on

my skin as I studied her flushed, angry face.

“Am I lying, Ms. Claire? Or perhaps you know better than anyone

who’s telling the truth here?” My voice carried easily through the hall,

steady and clear.

I caught the flash of fear in her eyes before she could mask it. Even

after stealing my work, she still panics when confronted with the truth. A

cold satisfaction spread through my chest. This woman had tried to

humiliate me, to steal what I’d created, yet she couldn’t maintain her

composure for even five minutes of questioning.

“You have some nerve claiming to be Aurora,” she spat, her voice

rising with each word. “Everyone knows Aurora hasn’t created anything in over a year. And suddenly you appear out of nowhere?”

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I reached into my pocket, feeling the familiar texture of my backup

sketches. “Fortunately for me, I’ve always had a habit of keeping

backups.” I unfolded the papers and held them up for everyone to see.

“I can produce these backups to prove these are my designs. What can

you show us, Ms. Claire?”

The head judge leaned forward, clearly interested. I handed the

sketches to an assistant who brought them to the panel.

“And that’s not all,” I continued, my confidence growing with each

word. “I even have electronic backups, from the initial draft through

revisions to the final design. Every modification I made is

timestamped and saved to an encrypted cloud server.”

I stepped closer to the edge of the stage, my eyes locked with

Megan’s. “You only have a single PowerPoint presentation. Who

should people believe? Do I really need to answer that question for

you?”

Megan’s face had gone from red to ashen. Her mouth opened and

closed, but no sound came out. She never expected me to have this

much evidence. She thought I’d just make accusations without proof.

I scanned the room, taking in the expressions of the judges and

audience. Some were whispering to each other, others were furiously

typing on their phones. I’d never enjoyed being the center of attention, but right now, standing here defending my work, I felt a

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strange sense of power.

“This is absurd!” Megan finally found her voice. “Anyone can make

some sketches and claim they’re originals!”

I just raised an eyebrow. “Then explain why your explanation of the

design’s symbolism was completely wrong? The curved lines don’t

represent waves. They symbolize a mother wolf protecting her cubs.

And the diamonds aren’t random water droplets–they’re placed to

mirror the constellation visible from Moonshade Bay forest on the

winter solstice.”

I watched her squirm, knowing she couldn’t possibly have known

these details. I’d only shared them with Marcus.

“You have no right!” Megan’s voice had taken on a desperate edge.

Her final card was about to be played. “You have no right to claim

you’re Aurora! Everyone knows Aurora injured her right hand years

ago. You can’t possibly be her unless…” Her eyes narrowed

triumphantly. “Unless you can draw something right now, in front of

everyone!”

There it is. I felt a smile tugging at my lips. Her last desperate move,

based on a rumor that was never true.

“That’s your final argument? That I should prove myself by drawing?”

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I let out a small laugh. “Gladly.”

I turned toward the panel of judges, who looked torn between

fascination and discomfort at being dragged into this drama.

“I understand this is unusual,” I said to them, “but if it will settle the

matter, I’m happy to demonstrate my abilities.”

The lead judge, a distinguished older man with silver hair, glanced at

his colleagues before nodding. “This is… unconventional, but given

the circumstances…”

“Get the necessary tools,” Ethan Lowell’s voice came from somewhere

in the back of the room. I hadn’t noticed him there before. “Quickly.”

Within minutes, an easel with paper and various drawing implements

was set up on stage. I approached it calmly, feeling all eyes on me.

Megan’s satisfied smirk told me everything–she believed the rumors

about Aurora’s injured right hand. She thought she’d caught me in a

trap.

I picked up a pencil with my left hand, my movements fluid and

natural. From my peripheral vision, I saw Megan’s expression falter.

She never bothered to verify the rumors. She never knew I’ve always been

left–handed.

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The room fell silent as I began to sketch. I lost myself in the familiar

motions, the world around me fading away. This wasn’t just about

proving Megan wrong anymore; it was about reclaiming my identity,

announcing to the world that Aurora hadn’t disappeared–she’d

simply been waiting for the right moment to return.

Time seemed to stretch and compress. I was vaguely aware of people

moving closer, of phones recording my progress, but I remained

focused on the emerging design. It was something new, born from the

moment–a phoenix rising from scattered diamonds, symbolizing

rebirth after destruction.

An hour and a half later, I made the final stroke and stepped back.

Without hesitation, I signed the corner with the distinctive Aurora

signature I’d used for years. The silence in the room was profound.

“That’s… that’s definitely Aurora’s style,” someone whispered loudly

from the audience. “The line work, the proportions–no one else

draws quite like that.”

Murmurs spread through the crowd as people pulled out their phones,

comparing my new drawing to images of previous Aurora works.

“It’s her!”

“It has to be!”

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“Look at the signature–it’s identical!”

I turned toward Megan, who stood frozen, her face a mask of disbelief

and horror. The realization was sinking in–not only had her theft

been exposed, but she’d stolen from one of the most respected

designers in the industry. And for what? To claim work that wasn’t

hers, from someone she never expected to confront her?

“Ms. Claire,” Ethan Lowell’s voice cut through the commotion. He’d

moved to stand beside the judges‘ table. “Given the evidence

presented today, we have no choice but to disqualify you from this

competition.”

“No!” Megan’s scream was primal. “This is all a setup! You can’t do

this to me!”

Two security guards appeared at her sides, gently but firmly taking

her arms.

“You’re making a mistake!” she shrieked as they escorted her toward

the exit. “Sebastien won’t stand for this! He won’t let you get away

with this!”

I watched her being led away, feeling strangely empty. There was no

satisfaction in watching her fall apart, only relief that the truth had

finally come to light.

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As I began to collect my drawing from the easel, I felt a presence

beside me.

“Aurora, or should I say Ms. Stone?” Ethan Lowell’s voice was soft,

contemplative. “I’m terribly sorry about what happened today. I never

expected such an incident at my exhibition.”