Chapter 260: Exposing You as a Mistress
Stark Arya was the most important judge in this competition, her scores carried significant weight.
And he had found out that Stark Arya had come to City B to be a judge, actually wanting to scout a few talented students for Fusion Dynamics Corporation.
Kathy and Caroline somehow learned of this and, having no direct access to Stark Arya, they decided to take a more circuitous route. They approached Randall, another judge, hoping he would put in a good word for them with Stark Arya.
After bumping into her at the restaurant, Randall knew Sophia must be currying favor with Stark Arya, and she might have already caught Stark Arya's eye.
He was determined not to let this woman be chosen by Stark Arya.
And he was going to make sure Sophia was eliminated in this semi-final round!
Sophia's personal life is a bit of a mess. She tried to seduce me before, but I didn't agree... Plus, I've heard her reputation isn't great at her company either—always stirring up trouble, and she's even involved with their general manager.
It's rumored that she plagiarized a coworker's design, but somehow she managed to turn the tables and made it look like she was the one who got plagiarized.
As Randall spoke, Stark Arya listened intently, occasionally offering a monosyllabic response or nodding.
"Are you done?" Not getting a word from Randall after a few seconds, Stark Arya inquired.
"Mrs. Arya, please don't be fooled by Sophia. You really need to keep your eyes peeled."
Randall's concern seemed genuine.
Stark Arya chuckled lightly, "I know. I'll be vigilant, don't worry, and thank you for telling me all this."
Hearing her response, Randall felt a sense of pride, believing she took his words to heart.
Humph, Sophia! Think you can beat me? If I don't force you to come begging to me, my name isn't Lee!
Randall strutted into the meeting room.
The scores for the contestants had already been tallied, the average calculated, and the rankings set.
With his low score for Sophia, Randall ensured she couldn't advance.
Suddenly, Stark Arya furrowed her brow, "I have an objection."
Everyone perked up.
"What insight do you have, Mrs. Arya?"
"The scoring method seems unfair. What if someone holds a bias and gives high marks out of favoritism, or low scores because of a grudge? That defeats the purpose of the competition."
The murmurs grew among the crowd.
Someone said, "I think Mrs. Arya is right."
"I've always said we shouldn't score this way."
"But the scores have been tallied. Are we to recalculate?"
The room buzzed with mixed reactions, especially Randall, who was nearly jumping out of his skin.
What's going on with Mrs. Arya?
Didn't she believe what he said? Why was she suddenly raising an issue with the scoring?
"I think the scoring method is fine," Randall interjected. "We, the judges, were chosen by vote, and none of us have any association with the contestants. Plus, neither I, nor Teacher Zhang or Teacher Luo, come from a design background..."
Stark Arya looked at him with a smirk that wasn't quite a smile, "Are you sure you have no relationship with any contestant?"
Randall nearly bit his tongue.
He had been duped by Stark Arya!
She hadn't believed a word he said.
Randall panicked, wondering if it was because he had spoken ill of Sophia that Stark Arya raised an objection to change the scoring method.
The act of shooting himself in the foot filled Randall with so much regret that it made him sick to his stomach.
He didn't dare to argue with Stark Arya in public, as Stark Arya's credibility in the industry was very high. Her presence alone could change the rules, while Randall felt like a tiny ant in front of her.
Finally, under Stark Arya’s insistence, the group cast votes to decide, and with a majority, they agreed to calculate the scores anew. They planned to eliminate the highest and lowest scores and then take the average of the rest.
Randall, who could talk a blue streak, teamed up with another judge to persuade everyone to re-evaluate the contestants' work and score them again.
Because of this, there was no way to announce the results that afternoon.
The officials had to issue a statement declaring that the announcement of results would be delayed by a day.
All the contestants, puzzled, had no choice but to wait patiently.
...
Sophia, clutching her files, headed to the executive office to hand over the materials to one of the secretaries. As she passed by Tiffany, she said, "Miss Foster, I need to talk to you about something. Could you come with me for a moment?"
Given that Tiffany's current persona was that of a helpful, eager-to-learn colleague who was friendly and approachable, she really couldn't refuse Sophia’s request without risking destroying her image.
The two headed to the stairwell, a place that had become almost private since most people preferred the elevator.
"You're Sophia, right? The fashion designer?" Tiffany asked with an overly sweet smile.
"Yes," Sophia responded, eyeing the completely changed Tiffany with a meaningful smile.
"What did you need to talk about?"
"Do you really have amnesia?"
"Um, yes, I really do."
"And you still can't remember anything?"
"Um, I can't remember anything, but I've learned a lot of new things already."
"Oh. Has anyone told you who I am?"
Tiffany wore a puzzled expression: "You're Sophia, the company's fashion designer."
"Slap!"
Tiffany's face was struck sideways.
"You're wrong," Sophia said, shaking the hand that stung from the slap.
Tiffany, her ears ringing, demanded angrily, "Why did you hit me?"
"When you remember, you'll know why I slapped you."
"Slap!" Another blow followed.
Unable to hold back anymore, Tiffany lunged back, but Sophia's rusty Taekwondo moves came out, and Tiffany ended up sprawled on the floor, in total disarray.
"Sophia, you're insane! Do you believe I could sue you for assault?"
"You think you can sue me, you mistress? Believe it or not, I can expose online how you became a mistress?"
"I am not a mistress!" Tiffany, recalling that memory, turned ghostly pale and vehemently denied it.
"You've lost your memory, right? How do you know you weren't a mistress? Or were you just pretending?"
Tiffany, struck at her core, guiltily avoided Sophia's scrutinizing eyes.
"I didn't!"
"It wasn't just that you were a mistress, you also drove a girl to her death."
"I didn’t!" Tiffany had just those three words.
She shook her head in denial; with her memory loss, she felt she could deny everything.
After all, they had no proof.
Without proof, she had done nothing.
"No, it was your people who pressured that girl to death, you're protecting a criminal."
"You are a cancer to society, human scum, and you've even been approached by some no-good thugs..."
"Ah! Stop talking!" Tiffany screamed at the top of her lungs: "I didn't do anything, I'm not that type of person, you're just talking nonsense!"
Tiffany scrambled to her feet, pushed Sophia away, and ran down the stairs as if fleeing.
Sophia’s lips curled coldly.
Amnesia?
She probably believed her own act.
The door to the stairwell squeaked open.
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