Chapter 289 A Taste of Your Own Medicine

Tilda didn’t deserve it!

Erica believed Myst needed someone like her—an experienced, mature woman. Someone who loved him deeply, someone with the right status and power who could protect his name in history, someone who took care of herself and could match him on every level.

Not some rookie who hadn’t even graduated from college.

She hadn’t hidden her jealousy well. Even with layers of foundation, fine wrinkles showed at the corners of her eyes.

Her whole face looked sharp and bitter, almost ugly.

“What the hell is Erica talking about? Fuck off!” Simon almost exploded.

He even cursed on a live broadcast.

Everyone knew what Erica was hinting at. She was trying to make people think Tilda had copied her painting.

The art of painting has been passed down around the world for countless years. In Cetherland, scroll paintings had already appeared more than two thousand years ago.

With so many works in existence, it was easy to twist people’s thoughts. Once the idea took root–that Tilda’s work looked “a little too familiar”–it would stick forever.

People would claim she was copying, even if they couldn’t name the exact piece. They’d just say it felt like they’d seen it before.

Once that idea was planted, Tilda became guilty in their eyes.

Even if she won the world championship, shaking off that stain would be nearly impossible.

“Professor Linscott, calm down. Tilda isn’t the type to sit back and take the hit,” Andy said. “Just watch how she fights back.”

Andy wasn’t worried.

Tilda had nothing holding her down anymore. No one in this world could take advantage of her now.

And sure enough…

“The world is full of different styles,” Tilda said calmly. “There are endless works, each shining like stars. I don’t think learning from those before us and then creating your own path is a bad thing.

“The key is how you absorb that wisdom, and how you mix it with your own style to create something new. That’s how history remembers you—just like Picasso and Van Gogh, who gave us their own schools of art.

“Ms. Erica, isn’t that exactly what you did with Crimson Steps? You once admitted it was inspired by Red Stilettos from a rising artist at the Lavigne Studio.”

Her response was flawless.

A taste of Erica’s own medicine.

Erica’s face went dark instantly.

Everyone knew what she was referring to. Erica’s painting Crimson Steps had won awards, but later it was exposed as plagiarism.

She had borrowed heavily from Red Stilettos.

She thought it was safe. The artist was just a rising name, and Erica believed with her experience that a slight change in style would cover her tracks.

But she had been caught.

When the scandal grew, Erica spent a fortune to settle privately. She called it “a tribute” and even hired internet trolls to flood forums defending her.

Tribute and plagiarism—two very different meanings. The storm eventually died down, but her reputation never fully recovered.

Now, in front of a worldwide audience, Tilda had dragged it back into the light. The crowd started whispering.

Erica had shot herself in the foot.

At first, the public had almost forgotten about it.

But now that Tilda brought it up during a worldwide livestream, the scandal came back to life.

Most people watching this competition were artists themselves.

They knew about her past scandals.

In fact, Erica’s whole career had been filled with controversy.

Some even claimed her success came from dirty tricks–money.

Others whispered it was worse, that she used her looks to sway the association.

Erica opened her mouth to defend herself.

But Myst’s voice cut through the air.

“Tilda is right. Erica, you crossed the line.”

His tone was calm, almost casual.

But the weight behind his words crushed down on Erica like a mountain.

She froze, unable to speak.

Her teeth clenched so hard her jaw ached.

Her instincts were right.

Myst’s attention is on that girl from Cetherland.

Damn it. Why does this girl get to have Myst’s gaze?

Even people who knew Myst well were shocked.

He was a genius, a world-class painter. He was eccentric, distant, and hard to approach.

He rarely spoke to anyone, let alone publicly.

Yet here, on a global live broadcast, he had stepped in for Tilda.

Was it because her talent was so breathtaking that even Myst admired her?

Kyla’s jealousy twisted inside her.

Why?

Why is Tilda in the spotlight again?

How many great men is this bitch going to lure in before she is satisfied?