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Mr. Yan sat in the study of his Swiss wooden cabin, the background a wall full of design
sketches.
He looked old and tired, but his eyes were exceptionally bright.
Facing the camera, he spoke in a slow, clear voice.
“Twenty years ago, a car accident took away my wife and daughter, and with them, my courage to continue creating.”
“I chose to live in seclusion, thinking I could protect my past that way.”
“But I was wrong. My retreat gave an opportunity to an unscrupulous person.”
“It allowed him to steal my life’s work through despicable means, passing them off as his own creations, deceiving the world and stealing fame.”
He paused, a flash of pain crossing his eyes.
“Those designs were like my children.”
“Today, I’m speaking out not for fame or fortune. I just want to reclaim what rightfully
belongs to me, to vindicate my children.”
At the end of the video, Mr. Yan displayed all the original drafts of his designs, with clear creation dates and signatures – irrefutable evidence that Lucas could never forge.
As the video ended.
ر
The entire venue was dead silent for a full ten seconds.
Then, an earth-shattering uproar erupted!
“Oh my God! It’s true! The plagiarism scandal of the century!”
“I knew his style was too mature for such a young designer!”
“Shameless! A disgrace to the fashion world! Get out!”
Angry condemnations and contemptuous glares, like countless arrows, all aimed at the two figures at the center of the runway who had long since lost all color in their faces.
Lucas completely broke down.
He fell to his knees with a thud, crawling to my feet, clutching my legs, and sobbing uncontrollably.
“Aria! I was wrong! I was so wrong! Please forgive me, give me another chance, please?”
He pointed at the dumbfounded Giselle beside him, frantically shifting blame.
“It was all her! She seduced me! She made me lose my mind and do such things!”
“You’re the one I love, Aria! I’ve always loved only you! Please help me, please!”
I looked at him, my face showing undisguised disgust.
“Lucas, you truly disgust me.”
I raised my foot and kicked him away forcefully.
Then I took off the ring on my ring finger, the one that once symbolized our love.
Under the witness of countless camera flashes, I raised my hand and threw it far away.
The ring traced an arc through the air, falling to the ground with a crisp sound.
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“Our engagement ends here.”
I turned and walked off the runway without looking back.
Behind me were Lucas’s despairing wails and the reporters’ frenzied questions.
