My courage to start anew after being pushed to the brink was something not everyone could do. Alistair Thorne spoke again. "Acknowledging someone else's excellence may not be easy, Ms. Dubois, but this is likely a lesson you must face going forward." The semi-final round made me a popular contestant. The upcoming final round required transforming the semi-final design into a finished garment. After continuously selecting fabrics and making adjustments, I finally completed my work. But on the eve of the final, negative news about me surged to the top of the trending topics. It directly accused me of being compromised by Alistair Thorne, receiving unfair preferential 12:42 pm P DDD < treatment. My heart sank slightly. This news could not only affect my competition but might even spread to the capital. If Julian Blackwood saw it... I never wanted to see that man again. Just as I was wondering how to deal with it, the trending topics were completely cleared. Vivian Dubois recorded a video, personally apologizing, admitting that everything was a fabrication born of her jealousy. Zara Thorne also called. "Autumn, don't worry. My brother found out Vivian did it and immediately pressured her family. To avoid massive business losses, Vivian had no choice but to admit her mistake. She's always liked my brother, but I'll never let her have him. Your brilliance and success are well-deserved. Go fly freely in tomorrow's final!" On the day of the final, I became the undisputed center of attention. Not because of the fleeting scandal, but because of the T-shirt I had designed. I invited several female audience members to try it on. Whether they weighed 90 pounds or 140 pounds, they all wore the garment with their own unique style. It was beautiful and comfortable. This was the truly universal size. This was the T-shirt everyone dreamed of. The men in the audience looked envious. I even had a strange feeling that Alistair Thorne seemed quite envious too. I smiled and announced, "This series will have not only women's universal sizes, but also plus sizes and men's sizes..." Amidst cheers and applause, I won the championship. That night, Thorne Industries, the design competition's sponsor, sent someone backstage to discuss < signing me as a designer under their label. I was slightly taken aback. As an insider, I knew there were many such unwritten rules. It was only natural for Thorne Industries to want to sign me, maximizing their profits as I debuted from this competition. But I didn't want to sign. Just as I had previously founded my own studio, I preferred the freedom of designing without constraints. However, thinking of how much Alistair Thorne had helped me, I hesitated. At that moment, Alistair Thorne appeared backstage. "Autumn won't be signing." With his word, his subordinates naturally didn't dare to object. "Yes, Mr. Thorne." "Autumn, with your talent and personality, you are better suited for independent development. I fully support and encourage that." I felt a little touched, and more than a little embarrassed. "Mr. Thorne, I merely happened to save Zara earlier. You've already helped me too much; it's truly more than enough." Alistair Thorne paused, then smiled somewhat helplessly. A radiant warmth seemed to shimmer in his usually calm eyes. "Ms. Autumn, I think you might have a slight misunderstanding about me. I must clarify." "I am a man of taste, a normal man. Therefore, I have absolutely no resistance to a girl as brave, esilient, incredibly talented, kind, sweet, and beautiful as you. I fell for you the moment I saw you, and hat feeling has only deepened since. Both personally and professionally, I want to help you. If you are willing to continue giving me such opportunities, I would be most grateful, and I wish to repay you with a lifetime of protection." My face slowly flushed red, and I also felt a bit like laughing. How did he manage to make a confession sound so formal, almost like a business proposal? But, even though his words were direct, they felt incredibly comforting. He liked me, yet unlike Julian Blackwood, he didn't try to control me. 12:42 pm < To love someone meant appreciating them for who they were and wanting them to become better. This was Alistair Thorne's approach to love. And it was also, in my eyes, what love should be. However, right now, I didn't want to think about such things. Alistair Thorne sensed my reluctance. "I understand. I spoke too suddenly. Please don't feel any pressure. For now, just do what you want to do." My nose stung slightly, and I nodded gently. "Autumn, you're here! You won the championship today, let's go celebrate!" Zara Thorne excitedly arrived backstage. "The three of us, can we go?" I nodded. Alistair Thorne gave his sister a grateful look; she was truly a divine assistant. The three of us went to Thorne Industries' Michelin-starred restaurant for dinner. I remembered the last time I ate Michelin-starred food was with Julian Blackwood. That time, he was entirely preoccupied with Serena Vance's whereabouts. He interrogated me, didn't believe me, and gripped my hand until it was red and swollen. That meal had been utterly tasteless. But this time, I found the food incredibly delicious. After dessert was served, the entrance suddenly erupted in commotion. "Sir, the restaurant is fully booked for a private event tonight, you cannot enter-" "Summer!" At that trembling call, my hand also trembled. It was Julian Blackwood. Sure enough, he had seen the trending topics that day after all. 12:43 pm PDDD < After more than a month apart, Julian Blackwood looked much more haggard, his eyes bloodshot, as if he hadn't slept in days. He simply gazed at me, unwilling to even blink, terrified I would disappear again. "Summer, can we talk, please..." Zara Thorne was very surprised. "Julian Blackwood, why are you here?" They knew each other from their shared elite circles in the capital. Zara Thorne suddenly realized. "So you're the scoundrel who hurt Summer! How dare you even ask to talk? Do you want to hurt her again?" Alistair Thorne's expression also turned completely cold. This was the first time I had seen such a murderous intent in him. Alistair Thorne ordered his men to escort Julian Blackwood out. This was Paris, his territory. He would not give anyone another chance to harm me. Julian Blackwood naturally refused to give up. Seeing that I wouldn't meet him, he publicly declared his love for me throughout the city, just as he had when he first pursued me. This time, however, I would no longer be moved. I knew that if this continued, my "secret" would eventually be discovered. It was better to step forward myself. I held a press conference. I revealed how, after marrying Julian Blackwood, I had my right hand severed by his obsessed admirer, ending my design dream. And yet, he was grateful to that woman, married her, and kept it a secret from me for three years. I pulled back my sleeve, revealing the scars from the torment he had inflicted upon me. I looked into the camera. "Julian Blackwood, we never had a formal goodbye because I never want to see you again. The moment I see you, I'm reminded of those painful memories. You claim to love me, but you never understood love. If you truly love me, please set me free. If you don't, then there's even less reason to meet." My courage garnered support from everyone. Julian Blackwood was pelted with donuts and tiramisu by justice-loving citizens whenever he walked down the street. His temper had always been volatile, but this time, he didn't retaliate. He saw my numerous injuries, and he saw my current rebirth. He finally understood how deeply he had wounded me. No matter how painful it was, he realized that we could never go back. Perhaps letting go was his last act of love for me. Julian Blackwood never reappeared after that press conference. The next day, a doctor contacted me. He told me that my bionic hand could actually be adjusted. After the adjustments, my hand could function just like a real one for design work. After several treatments and repairs, my right hand was restored to normal. I became a ambidextrous designer, able to switch between both hands effortlessly. Julian Blackwood ended his call with the doctor and smiled with relief. Good. He had no more regrets. A few days later, I received a huge sum of money, an absurd number of zeros after the digits. On the same day, a news article appeared on national headlines. Julian Blackwood, the former scion of power, committed suicide in the marital home he once shared with his ex-wife, after brutally beating Serena Vance to death. To his last breath, he held a single piece of paper, the design sketch he'd first seen me with. On it, written in blood, were two words: "I love you." But they were crossed out, and beneath them, he'd scrawled "I'm sorry." I calmly closed the news, donating all the money back to the country. No one dislikes money, but what I wanted, I would earn myself. About dreams, about love, about life... time would provide the best answers. Discover our latest featured short drama reel. Watch now and enjoy the story!