Chapter 4 Plagiarism

Jeffrey's wine glass froze mid-air. His gaze swept over Aurora's face twice before he let out an exaggerated whistle.

"Mr. Scott, did your company switch to running beauty pageants?"

Leon smiled without responding, but Jeffrey wasn't about to drop the subject. He leaned toward Michael, lowering his voice just enough that everyone could still hear him clearly.

"So you've been hiding Aurora at home for three years—keeping a trophy wife all this time."

Michael's expression darkened a shade. He said nothing.

Jeffrey patted the empty seat beside him and waved at Aurora. "Don't just stand there. Come, sit here."

Aurora was about to step forward when Michael tapped his glass against the table. The sound wasn't loud, but it froze everyone in place.

"She's here on business. She sits across from us." His tone was casual, as if commenting on the weather.

Jeffrey raised an eyebrow. "Across? That's where Mr. Scott's people sit. Since when do you manage other companies' affairs?"

Michael didn't respond, his gaze flicking over Aurora before looking away.

Jeffrey scoffed and pulled out the chair beside him, gesturing for Aurora to sit. "Come on, man. Are you playing the devoted husband now? You already let her go—what's with the attitude?"

Aurora sat down just as those words landed.

Devoted husband.

She knew exactly who he'd been devoted to.

She didn't let the emotion linger on her face for more than a second. Opening her portfolio, she pulled out the design drawings and spread them neatly across the table.

Three renderings: the exterior façade of a commercial complex, the central atrium circulation plan, and a landscape node concept. The lines were clean and precise, the color palette restrained and sophisticated—nothing like the flashy proposals flooding the market.

Jeffrey had been teasing Michael, but his attention shifted as he glanced at the drawings. He picked up the top sheet, examined it front and back, and let out a low whistle.

"Who drew these? This is solid work."

Leon immediately jumped in, his face lighting up with a smile. "Excellent eye, Mr. Foster. Ms. Rivera graduated from one of the country's top architectural design programs. During her time there, she won—"

"Won what?" Michael's voice cut in, soft as silk but sharp as a blade.

Leon's words caught in his throat.

Michael picked up the concept rendering, studied it for three seconds, then set it down. "Mr. Scott, may I ask how long Ms. Rivera has been with your company?"

"Uh... she just joined recently." Leon's smile stiffened.

"Just joined, and she's already presenting projects at this level?" Michael's tone was perfectly neutral, but each word landed like a nail being driven home. "Her résumé shows a three-year gap. What did she write for that—'further professional development'?"

Aurora's fingers tightened. She looked up and met his gaze.

He was watching her, his eyes devoid of any warmth.

"The style, color choices, and compositional logic of these drawings," Michael slid the papers back across the table, "are identical to those of an independent designer named Jane. Mr. Scott should be familiar with her—she charges six figures minimum in the industry."

He paused, his gaze settling on Aurora's face. "Did you plagiarize these?"

The words were casual, but they sucked all the air out of the room.

Aurora's throat tightened.

Of course she hadn't plagiarized.

Because Jane was her.

Over the past three years, during the gaps between being a full-time housewife at the Johnson estate, she'd taken on private commissions under that name and built a solid reputation in the industry. But she'd never revealed this identity to anyone.

Including Michael.

Now she couldn't admit it.

If her identity as Jane were exposed, with Michael's resources, he'd trace her income streams within minutes. That would make Julia's custody even more precarious.

Aurora bit the inside of her cheek and remained silent for two seconds.

"I drew these myself."

Michael let out a derisive laugh and stood up, fastening his suit jacket. "Leon, bringing someone like this to negotiate with me—do you think Johnson Group is easy to fool, or do you think I'm easy to fool?"

Without another glance at Aurora, he strode out of the private room.

Jeffrey opened his mouth as if to say something, glanced at Aurora's expression, sighed, and followed him out.

Only Aurora and Leon remained in the room.

Leon's smile vanished completely. He stood up, his chair legs scraping harshly against the floor.

"Why didn't you mention you knew Michael before you came?"

Aurora frowned. "Mr. Scott, the drawings are legitimate. I can—"

"You can what?" Leon walked up to her, looming over her. "Michael just accused you of plagiarism to your face. How do you expect this deal to go forward? Do you have any idea how much effort I put into getting a connection with Johnson Group?"

He reached out and gripped her chin, the anger in his eyes quickly morphing into something else.

"Though since you know Mr. Johnson..." His gaze traveled down from her collarbone. "You're not entirely useless after all."

Aurora's pupils dilated. She jerked her head away from his grip and headed straight for the door.

But Leon was faster. He grabbed her wrist and shoved her toward the sofa.

"Where do you think you're going? Is this your first time at a place like this?"

As Aurora struggled, she knocked over a wine glass on the table. The sound of shattering glass exploded through the room. She grabbed a shard and pressed it against Leon's arm, her voice trembling but her words clear.

"Let go, or I'll make sure you can't use this hand again."

Leon was momentarily stunned by the fierceness in her eyes, but he quickly laughed. "You really—"

He didn't finish his sentence.

The door burst open from the outside, slamming against the wall and bouncing back.

Michael stood in the doorway, his chest heaving violently, his eyes filled with a violence Aurora had never seen before.

He crossed the distance in three strides and drove his fist into Leon's face.

Leon crashed onto the coffee table. Before he could get up, a second punch landed, then a third. The dull sound of breaking bones echoed through the room. Blood splattered across the carpet and onto Michael's white shirt.

Jeffrey tried pulling him back but couldn't. "Michael, that's enough! You're going to kill him!"

Michael stopped, breathing heavily, his knuckles covered in blood—impossible to tell whose.

He turned to look at Aurora, huddled in the corner of the sofa. She was still clutching that glass shard, blood seeping from her palm, her body trembling.

Something flickered in Michael's eyes. He bent down, scooped her up in his arms, and walked out without looking back.

Held against his chest, Aurora caught the familiar scent of cedar mixed with the sharp tang of blood. Her eyes burned, but she held back every tear.

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at one of Michael's private apartments.

He set Aurora down on the sofa and silently retrieved the first aid kit to treat the wound on her hand. When the iodine stung her cut, Aurora sucked in a sharp breath. His movements immediately gentened.

"Are you planning to keep doing this kind of work?"

Aurora didn't answer.

Michael finished wrapping the gauze and stared at her. "Think carefully about what I said. Leave Julia with the Johnson family. She'll receive the best care possible."

"I won't give Julia to you." Aurora's voice was soft, but every word was unyielding.

Michael studied her for several seconds, then stood and walked toward the bathroom. "Think it over. Stop being stubborn."