Framed for Art Theft, But I Ranked Dead Last

The comments scrolled by in a frenzy: [Can't idealized love tell the male lead is calling her out?! Just admit defeat already and give the first place back to our girl!] [The male lead only sponsored this competition to be a judge—all for the female lead!] [Making excuses won't help. Once they check the security footage, idealized love's gonna turn into Black Moonlight!] [Our girl comes from such a poor family and has to work her way through school. She's really had it rough!] I looked at the Cartier bracelet on Juliana's wrist—fifty thousand dollars. The little white Dior dress—eighty thousand. The hairpins—six thousand each. My brow furrowed in confusion. Poor family? Working her way through school? Were they talking about Juliana? She was dressed more like an heiress than I was—and I was the actual heiress! Anyone who'd ever painted knew how easy it was to get splattered with pigment during the process. That's why most artists wore cheap, stain-resistant clothes. But Juliana... Watching the comments shower praise on Juliana's "admirable work ethic," I was speechless. Before I could say a word, Juliana's tears began falling, one after another. "I know you're a rich young lady who doesn't care about a little prize money like this," she said, her voice trembling. "But this award is my tuition for the entire year. I really can't lose it." Her eyes rimmed red, and then—she dropped to her knees before me. "I know you swapped the paintings because you wanted first place. I'll give you the title—you can have it. But please, I'm begging you, give me back the prize money." Her voice cracked. "If you want me to ghostwrite for you in the future, just ask. You didn't have to steal my work." If I nodded along with her story, I'd be admitting guilt on the spot. I kept my voice as level as I could manage. "As far as I know, tuition is twelve thousand a year. You could sell any one of those luxury items on you and cover it easily. Besides—I have zero interest in winning a traditional painting competition. Why would I swap anyone's work?" Juliana's face went rigid for a split second. Then she turned to Clint, her expression crumpling into wounded innocence. "I didn't buy any of this myself. They're gifts—they mean something. Even if I starved to death, I could never sell someone's heartfelt gesture for money." Her lip quivered. "All I want is to earn my own way through my paintings." "I'm not trying to steal the title from you. Please—just give me back the prize money." She cried until her voice went hoarse. Something soft flickered in Clint's eyes. "You silly girl..." The other contestants closed in, their accusations sharp: "Juliana's on her knees begging you—what more do you want?" "I can't stand trust-fund brats who throw their family's money around and steal other people's work." "Making her give back the prize money isn't enough. She needs to be disqualified!" The comments erupted in righteous fury: [Can this bitch just die already?! She's forcing our precious girl to kneel! Poor baby Juliana, I'm literally crying!] [Thank god the male lead is going to expose her for swapping the paintings and give the title back to the female lead!] [The best part comes later—the male lead never forgets how our girl was humiliated. He pretends to pursue idealized love, then jilts her at the altar on their engagement day! Her whole family loses face, their stock price tanks! The male lead buys up their shares and drives her accomplice parents into bankruptcy until they jump off a building!] I stared at that last comment. My vision blurred red at the edges. The comments erupted: [Holy shit—can she actually SEE us?!] I yanked my gaze away, pretending I hadn't seen a thing. When I didn't react, the comments settled down: [There's no way a side character can see the comments. Are you insane?] [She's just a stepping stone for the main characters. Her whole family deserves to die!] Rage churned in my chest, hot and bitter. I had never hurt anyone in my life. So why the hell should I pave the way for Clint and Juliana's love story?

Driven to bankruptcy, their parents jumping off a building? The crowd helped Juliana to her feet, voices rising in agreement—they were going to report me for switching artworks. Clint wasted no time. He'd already summoned someone from the Organizing Committee. "I'm filing a formal complaint. Someone switched paintings and stole another contestant's work!" Juliana hung her head, the picture of wounded innocence—as if she'd suffered some unimaginable injustice. The judges' expressions turned grave. "The entire painting process was conducted under surveillance," one of them said. "It would be impossible for anyone to switch works." Juliana's head snapped up, eyes reddening as she fixed her gaze on the long-haired woman at the front of the panel. Her voice trembled with righteous fury. "Professor Chavez, you're best friends with Wallis's mother. Of course you'd take her side. But none of us even said who did this, and you're already rushing to cover for her. Don't you think that's a bit much?" Clint's tone went cold, pressure radiating off every word. "Professor Chavez, I donated five million dollars to this competition. Not so I could watch you people play favorites and pull strings behind the scenes. My prize money goes to someone who actually deserves it." The other contestants began to murmur. "So one of the judges is best friends with Wallis's mom? No wonder she had the chance to switch paintings!" "Disgusting tactics. And she calls herself a socialite? More like a parasite feeding off ordinary people!" Juliana lifted her chin, defiant. "I demand a review of all competition entries. And I demand that Professor Chavez—who's clearly involved in a cover-up—step down immediately!" Professor Chavez hadn't spoken. But I did. "On what grounds are you demanding a review?" My voice cut through the noise. "And on what grounds are you demanding Professor Chavez step down?" "Based on nothing but your baseless speculation, do you have any idea how much extra work you're dumping on the staff?" "You keep going on about being some poor kid from a struggling family, but you don't seem to have any problem making life hell for people who actually work for a living." "Yes, Professor Chavez is my mother's friend. But she hasn't covered for me in any way. If you want her removed, you'd better come with evidence." Juliana could slander me all she wanted—it was nothing but empty accusations. But dragging an innocent woman into this? That was unforgivable. Professor Chavez's husband had kidney failure. He survived on dialysis. She'd refused my mother's offer to help pay for it, insisting she'd cover the thousands in monthly treatment costs herself. That was why she treasured every job, every side gig. Never complained. Never asked for pity. I wasn't about to let Juliana's little performance destroy her. The moment I defended Professor Chavez, Clint let out a laugh. "Touched a nerve, did we?" "What's wrong—afraid we'll dig up proof of your dirty little swap once we start looking?" Juliana's hands balled into fists, her expression shifting to one of barely contained anguish. "All I wanted was for you to return my prize money so I could pay tuition and stay in school. But you've pushed me too far. Now you have to face the consequences!" She pulled out her phone and dialed the Art Integrity Review Team. "I'm filing a formal complaint under my real name. During the national competition, Wallis Gilbert colluded with Judge Julie Chavez to switch my artwork and steal first place in the preliminaries. I demand Professor Chavez's immediate termination and the return of what's rightfully mine!" The other students erupted in cheers, all of them waiting to watch me crash and burn. The comments section exploded: 【This is amazing! The heroine is so badass!】 【Finally made the call! They're sending investigators!】 【The villainess is about to be destroyed!】 Clint regarded me with ice in his eyes. "Before the higher-ups send someone down, I'll give you one last chance to come clean." Juliana adopted a tone of false concern. "Once this blows up, you'll lose a lot more than some little preliminary title." The comments showered her with praise: 【The heroine is such an angel—still giving the villainess a chance even now.】

[Our sweet girl is just too kind-hearted. She keeps rejecting the male lead because of his engagement.] [These two precious souls can't be together because of that awful villainess. The male lead has to jump through hoops just to give her gifts, and even then, she only reluctantly accepts them.] These comments made me seriously question their collective intelligence. If Juliana were truly as kind-hearted as they claimed, why would she get involved with Clint knowing full well he was engaged? Her so-called "rejections" were nothing but playing hard to get. One look at her wardrobe—not a single affordable item in sight—told you everything. God knows how much that fool Clint had spent on her. And they actually believed she needed the prize money for tuition? The sheer stupidity was dragging down the average IQ of our entire circle. I regarded them with cold indifference and stated once more: "I wouldn't stoop to swapping paintings for a title—let alone for a mere preliminary round." The students around us began to waver. "She's right. This competition is just domestic. Wallis has always competed at the International Art Invitational level." "Her family's loaded, and she's already made a name for herself. Why would she need to swap paintings?" "What would she even gain?" Doubt flickered across Clint's face. He glanced at me, something uncertain in his expression. Juliana's lips curled into a mocking smile. She jabbed a finger toward my face. "Do I need to spell it out for you?" "It's obviously for the guaranteed admission spot!" Her voice turned icy. "You all think this competition is just about rankings and prize money. But the finals champion gets a guaranteed spot at a top-tier overseas art academy!" "That's something no amount of competition wins can buy!" A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Clint's gaze hardened with disgust. "Even if you worm your way into an elite institution through dirty tricks, you won't last. Besides—" His eyes glinted. "Your true colors are about to be exposed." When my expression remained unchanged, he pointed at me, his voice dripping with contempt. "You won't cry until you see the coffin!" A group of uniformed investigators approached, one of them holding a USB drive. "This contains footage of the entire painting process and submission. We're here to make everything public." The lead investigator turned to me. "You're Wallis Gilbert, the one who was reported, correct? I'll ask you one final time—did you swap someone else's painting to secure the guaranteed admission?" Triumph gleamed in Juliana's and Clint's eyes. They were practically salivating, waiting for the footage to play and watch me crumble. I rolled my eyes and spread my hands toward the staff. "I was admitted on an accelerated track last year. Why would I swap paintings just to get admitted again?"