Chapter 211

Chapter 211:

“Don’t let this manipulative woman fool you. Her kind specializes in wrapping innocent girls like you around their finger. Keep your distance if you know what’s good for you,” one of the fanatics sneered, her voice dripping with condescension. “Say that one more—”

Time!” Sierra’s hands balled into fists, rage coursing through her veins like liquid fire as she fought the urge to launch herself at the speaker.

But Janice’s gentle touch anchored her in place. Rising with the fluid grace of a dancer, her posture remained deceptively relaxed. Yet there was something in her eyes—a glacial indifference that sent invisible shivers down spines, causing even the most vocal critics to retreat a step.

“I’m curious.” Janice’s voice drifted through the air like a nightingale’s song, deceptively gentle yet razor-sharp. “You claim I plagiarized your new song. Where’s your proof? Words are nothing but wind without substance behind them. If you can produce anything that predates the recording in this video, I’ll not only offer my immediate apology, but I’ll also grant you access to premium industry resources. Free of charge.”

Though barely above a whisper, her challenge struck Carman like a thunderbolt, making his blood run cold.

Evidence?

He had no evidence.

Every draft, every scribbled note betrayed him, their dates damning testimony to his deception.

“I was just experimenting with melodies back then. You must have caught fragments of it, stored them away, and twisted them into this piano piece.” The lie felt heavy on his tongue as cold sweat trickled down his spine, betraying his facade. Beads of moisture dotted his forehead like guilty tears.

“Carman, why do you seem so guilty?” Vernon’s voice cut through the tension with razor-sharp amusement. “Look at you! Drenched in sweat. Could it be there’s no evidence to back your grandiose claims?”

gαℓησν𝒆𝓁s․c𝓸𝗆 brings imagination alive

Doubt spread through the crowd like ink in water, seeping beyond the wall of devoted fanatics.

Critical minds began picking apart the holes in Carman’s narrative, each inconsistency widening the cracks in his carefully constructed facade.

If Carman had possessed this inspiration from the start, why had he lurked in the shadows until now? More telling still, his new song mirrored Janice’s piano piece with unmistakable precision.

The audience couldn’t deny what their ears told them; the piano piece resonated with greater beauty. Carman’s rendition, despite its polished effects, had stripped a pure melody of its soul, leaving behind something ordinary.

“I’m a music student, and it’s obvious Carman is lying. If he really had the framework of this piece, he wouldn’t have arranged it like this. It’s like trying to replicate a masterpiece and ending up with a cheap knockoff. How can the original be worse than the imitation?”

“Exactly! Carman’s song is decent, but after hearing the piano version, it’s clear he missed the essence of the original. His version feels shallow and lacks depth.”

As the controversy spread, musicians and critics joined the discussion, analyzing both Carman’s song and Janice’s piano composition.

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