Chapter 5: The Evidence Game

I gradually calmed down and began to explain, through sign language, the story behind composing this song.

Including my original intentions.

For some reason, Caleb's voice grew stiff when translating this part.

A bit unwilling, even.

I looked at him in confusion, but he just raised his eyebrows, telling me to keep going.

The more Natalie listened, the paler she became.

Many people started to believe me, because I described detailed things: how certain lines originally went, what feelings made me change them.

And Natalie knew nothing about these changes.

"So Lillian really is the author of this song?"

"Then did Natalie actually steal her song? That's wild."

"Wild? Are you dumb? That's called theft. Straight-up theft."

After I finished signing, Caleb spoke calmly: "Lillian hopes to receive an apology from Natalie, reclaim the song's ownership, and withdraw from the competition."

Natalie still stubbornly stared at us: "I didn't! I didn't steal her song! This is my song!"

She cried so pitifully, making people feel sorry for her.

The college administrators finally couldn't sit still: "Since we can't tell who did it, let's look at the evidence. Show us the drafts."

I tugged Caleb: "They're in my dorm. My drafts are in my dorm."

He comforted me: "Okay, I'll go with you to get them."

But before Caleb could speak, Derek handed a stack of papers to Natalie from the side.

"These are my drafts. When I wrote this song, the person I liked—Derek Foster—was with me. He can vouch for me."

She waved the drafts in her hand, and I clearly saw the handwriting.

It was Natalie's.

Derek wouldn't look at me, only at Natalie on stage.

"Why?" I cried, though I couldn't speak. Derek knew what I meant.

He turned his face away.

I trusted him so much. I'd even shown him my draft.

There was only one possibility—he took photos of my draft and gave them to Natalie.

Natalie had stolen it from start to finish.

This whole song-stealing scheme had been planned for a long time.

All I could do was stare at the pages, my vision blurring with the betrayal. Even the whispers in the crowd seemed to press in on me, sharp and unforgiving. I wished someone would just shout the truth for me, but all I could do was stand there, my fists tight, the ache in my chest hollow and deep. Caleb stepped a little closer, protective, his hand gently resting on my shoulder—a small but necessary anchor in the middle of my unraveling world.