"Giselle, I’m live-streaming right now," she declared, her voice dripping with malice. "Everyone in the chat wants to know why did you plagiarize Imogen’s work?"
She leaned in closer, her grin widening as she spoke.
"You must know that Imogen studied under a famous master in Paris and has lived art since childhood. Did you copy her work just to get Cohen’s attention?"
As she continued her taunting, I glimpsed the live-stream assistant’s screen, where the comments were flooding in like a tidal wave. It didn’t take long for the insults to pour in, predictable as ever.
"Amanda, the stream’s hit ten million views! Push harder!"
The camera zoomed in on my face, highlighting every inch of my disheveled state. Panic surged through me as I could only repeat the words over and over:
"I didn’t plagiarize. Every one of my works is my own creation!"
"There are drafts in my studio. I can bring them out to prove it!"
The standoff dragged on for what felt like an eternity, nearly ten minutes before Cohen’s bodyguards stormed in.
I looked at them, desperation in my eyes, silently pleading for help.