A well-known strict judge stood up, looked at Harley, and asked her, "I'll give you one more chance. Is this your work?"
"Of course, it is," Harley said. She clenched her teeth and refused to admit it.
"Really? Then why did my assistant find a work with your name written on it in the trash can outside the corridor?"
I nodded, indicating my assistant to open the thing on the desk.
A piece of paper with Harley's name on it was unfolded, and the audience burst into laughter when they saw the horrible handwriting.
The evidence was conclusive. Harley's face turned livid, and she covered her face and ran out under the contemptuous gaze of the crowd.
"Miss Hersey..." The organizer looked at me with a difficult expression.
"Don't worry. Someone will be here to clean up the mess for her."
I left smartly.
I was sure that after this, Harley would never defile the things I liked again.
I wanted to go home and rest after leaving the venue, but I realized that Harley would definitely go back and complain to my parents, so I turned and went to the bar.
Just as I arrived at the bar, my mom called.
"Where are you now?"
I casually shook my glass and didn't answer her. I said, "What's up?"