Chapter 3

Holly's POV

Mom didn't say a single word, but I found my answer on the balcony.

My personal belongings had been haphazardly dumped in the corner of the balcony. My cashmere coat, worth hundreds of dollars, had been carelessly left on the floor and stepped on, leaving countless footprints all over it. The model that I spent three months assembling was in pieces.

I felt like I was suffocating when I saw the torn-up design drafts in the trash. My fingers trembled violently as I fished out the shreds of paper one at a time. Every sheet was stained with dirt and ruined.

"I was going to use these to join a competition," I said. "Who gave you permission to throw them away?"

Lydia's eyes reddened. "I'm sorry, Holly. I thought they were scrapped drafts that you didn't want anymore," she mumbled softly.

I barked out an indignant laugh. "You studied design too. Don't tell me that you can't tell what a scrapped draft looks like?"

"I'm sorry. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have moved in and touched your things," Lydia said as she began to slap herself.

Mom hurriedly wrapped her arms around her before turning to berate me. "It's just a drawing, Holly. You can just draw a new one if the old one's ruined. You don't have to be so harsh!"

My breath hitched in my throat. It was as if all the blood in my veins had turned to ice. Six months ago, I started researching and gathering materials for the design. I sacrificed countless nights of sleep and poured my blood, sweat, and tears into it.

Yet Mom dismissed all my hard work, telling me I could just draw it again.

My phone vibrated. Bellevon Design Institution had just sent me an email.

"Are you sure that you want to give up this opportunity to further your studies with us, Ms. Alden? If you do, you won't be allowed to apply for any position or training programs at our institution for the next three years."

I clutched my phone as I looked at Mom and Dad. They were hugging Lydia and comforting her.

In that moment, the only reason that could have kept me here had disappeared.

The door unlocked with a click right after I sent my reply. Elias strode into the house with Oliver and Carrie trailing behind him, carrying a cake and an exquisite gift box.

Oliver's expression darkened immediately when he noticed Lydia's red, swollen eyes. "Did you bully Lydia again, Holly?" he demanded.

His instinctive favoritism was blunt and cruel.

Lydia tugged on his sleeve, intentionally making herself sound weak and vulnerable when she said, "It has nothing to do with Holly, Olly. I was too stupid. I ruined her design drafts."

Olly? Until then, I had been the only one who called him that. However, it had slipped from Lydia's lips so naturally as if she had called him that countless times.

Oliver also didn't look fazed by the nickname. "What design draft?" he asked.

Lydia pointed to the torn-up draft papers in the trash. "Holly was going to submit them for a competition, but I threw them away because I thought that they were scrapped drafts."

"You're right. They're just scrapped drafts," Oliver said, sweeping his gaze across the torn pieces of paper in the trash.

I whipped my head up. "What did you say?" I demanded in a shaking voice.

Oliver's tone was light, as if he were talking about something totally insignificant. "I've already submitted that design to this year's Red Ribbon Award under Lydia's name."

It was as if something snapped in my mind, and a loud buzzing filled my ears. I was both furious and in turmoil as I stared at him.

"You plagiarized my work again!"

Lydia jolted before she hastily hid behind Oliver. Meanwhile, Oliver's eyes were full of disapproval as he shielded her. "Don't put it that way, Holly. That incident left Lydia deeply traumatized.

"The doctor said that to completely heal her trauma and cure her depression, she needs to personally achieve success in a similar setting."

"She should draw her own designs then! What gives her the right to use my designs?" I roared as tears spilled down my cheeks.

"Did you know that that wasn't an individual design? It was part of an entire series! The rest of my work will be judged as invalid because she submitted that one design for the competition. That's five years of my hard work down the drain!"

A hint of guilt flickered in Oliver's eyes. However, he only felt guilty enough to soften his voice. It wasn't enough for him to change his mind.

"Let her have this just this once, Holly. Lydia's parents saved me and Elias in the past. We can't just stand by and do nothing and let her be trapped in her depression forever."

Tears spilled down my cheeks as I barked out a laugh. "That's the reason why you kept tormenting me over and over again for her sake?"

I wasn't the one who owed Lydia's parents, but I was the one who had to repay their kindness on Oliver's and Elias' behalf. What kind of logic was that?

"I won't allow her to plagiarize my work a second time. I'm going to report her right now."

Elias tackled me to the floor just as I was about to grab my phone. The back of my head collided against the coffee table, causing black spots to explode in my vision from the pain.

"Lock her out on the balcony, Oliver. Lydia will win the award by tomorrow," he said, dragging me by the collar to the balcony.

My blood left a striking trail of red on the floor.

Oliver hesitated for a moment.

Meanwhile, Carrie was holding Lydia, who was trying to smash her head against the wall as if she had lost her mind. "Hurry! Lydia's illness is acting up again!"

Oliver's hesitance disappeared. He grabbed my legs and hauled me toward the balcony.

I thrashed around with bloodshot eyes. Mom brought the rope, while Dad brought the tape. I suddenly stopped moving as I stared at them. They restrained me before dumping me on the balcony like a beast.

Oliver looked down his nose at me. "Just stay here and calm down for now. It's Lydia's birthday today. We'll have a proper talk once the celebration is over."

He locked the door to the balcony after he was done speaking.

They gathered around Lydia, grabbing the cake and presents before leaving the house while chatting and laughing among themselves.