Chapter 200 The Champion
Right now, Kyla did not have the luxury to daydream about Jude. She needed to keep Preston locked in tight—no way was she letting him pull a Dominic and flip sides. The last thing she could afford was Preston getting cozy with Tilda.
“Kyla, you’re just too good for this world. How can someone like you even exist? You are so sweet and so pure…”
Preston’s hands itched to grab Kyla, hold her close, kiss away those tears, and drown in her lips. He wanted her so badly it hurt, but reason kept him frozen. Thanks to his stupid engagement with Tilda, Kyla had been dodging him, afraid to admit what she really felt.
But Tilda? Your days are numbered. I’m dumping this engagement. The only woman I’ll ever call mine—the only Bell daughter-in-law—will be Kyla.
You? Selling yourself to climb higher? You’re trash. You’ll never be worthy.
Just then, the winners were announced. Champion, runner-up, and third place were all headed to the stage. And of course, the spotlight fell on Tilda. As soon as she stepped up, the cameras went nuts. Flash after flash, shutters going off nonstop. Tilda looked like she had been born for this. Cool, confident, almost smug as she played to the cameras.
As the champion, all eyes were locked on Tilda. Her porcelain-doll face looked flawless under the lights, her loose black hair framing it just right. Dressed in a sleek trench coat, one hand tucked casually in her pocket, a faint smirk tugged at her lips. Her chin tilted upward ever so slightly, carrying that kind of pride that said, “I’m the ruler of art, the rest of you don’t even come close.” She looked untouched by the dirt of the world, pure and otherworldly, yet never fake. That impossible vibe hit everyone like a wave, making their hearts skip a beat. Even the live chat was going insane.
“Gosh, Tilda is unreal!” “No wonder she painted something that crazy. She’s gorgeous, and the vibe matches perfectly.” “Girl crush activated. Don’t forget us, Tilda!” “Forget it, I’d totally go gay for her.” “Holy crap, it’s bad enough the guys are all fighting over her, and now even the girls are in the mix? What is happening?!” “Sis, please don’t swing that way! I’m a guy, I like girls, and I’m right here! Look at me, I’m fresh meat!”
Meanwhile, the artist behind entry number four was spiraling. Most art kids are full of themselves—cocky and hard to impress. If you make it to the national finals, you’ve got the skills. But against Tilda? It was like a bug facing a hurricane. He had nothing left, not even pride. So, he could only admit defeat. And yet, somehow, entry number four still managed to snag a few votes. Even the artist who painted it was totally dumbfounded. He honestly wanted to shout, “Are the judges and audience blind or what?” With a masterpiece like number five shining up front, how could anyone bother with something that looked like pure garbage? It made people suspect the whole thing was rigged. For him, this was without a doubt the biggest stain on his art career—no contest.
Once the three finalists walked up on stage, the awards ceremony officially began. That’s when Alfie appeared on camera, grinning, trophy in hand. Simon froze in shock. Wait, wasn’t the award supposed to be given out by someone from Woodward Group, the main sponsor? So Tilda’s friend was actually from Woodward Group? No wonder he carried himself with that cool, mysterious vibe!
Alfie passed the trophy to Tilda. Then, he grabbed the flower garland from the hostess. He slipped it around Tilda’s neck. “Congrats, Tilda.” His smile this time was warm and real. Tilda stayed calm, just answering, “Thanks.” Her expression never wavered. It was like trophies, fame, and all that noise meant nothing to her. The win itself? Already decided. How did it come about? Who cared.
Alfie’s curiosity only grew. What was this girl really thinking? She had that strange magnetism—get too close, and you could not pull away. Jude, you’d better watch out for this little sorceress. She could reel in anyone if she wanted.
Professor Linscott was so hyped that he actually teared up. He whipped out his phone, snapping away at the effortlessly cool Tilda, then blasted it all over his social media.
“Proud of my student Tilda for taking first place in the National College Art Competition and moving on to the world finals! Good luck, Tilda—show the world your brilliance and make us all proud!”
And instantly, Simon’s notifications went insane.
“Yo, Simon, since when did you have such a hidden gem under your wing?” “Wait, didn’t you hype up Kyla Jenson before? How’d it end up being Tilda instead?” “Dang! So this genius is yours? I was dying to know who she was—can’t believe I missed out!” “Simon, hook us up! Let’s co-mentor her. I want to be able to brag I trained Tilda, too!”
Simon scrolled through his feed, seeing all those big-name art masters—people who could stir up storms in the industry—blowing up his posts.