rand hall was th

on of the year. My design, "The Spire of Tomorrow," was projected onto a massive screen beh

scene where I was supposed to win, wh

e first time I had

my name, Sarah Miller, was called. I accepted the award, my face beaming with naive pride. My mentor, the charis

een the beginn

the project neared completion, the ground fell out from under me. Daniel, with the help of his cunning protégé, Emily Chen, systematically erased my

red in a storm of public disgrace. My career, the one I had built with sleepless ni

hael, a gifted coder who wrestled with severe social anxiety, lost the specialized care he desp

y apartment, with an eviction notice on the d

w, I w

rning point. The emcee was building the susp

this year's Innov

in the front row, a confident smile playing on his lips. He expected me to wi

ould not walk

sed m

ugh the audience. The emcee fa

rt hammering against my ribs not with e

voice clear and steady, "I must make a correct

eel Daniel' s eyes on me, his smile gon

support structure, the lynchpin of the entire tower... it is u

on the panel leaned forward,

gineering principle," I continued, my voice laced with a carefully cr

rectly to the front row,

eling system... that was not my idea. That brilliance belongs entirely t

w of looking

ld a worthy structure around their genius. I have to withdraw my

defeated bow a

the press was buzzing. I had just handed them the win, but I had done it by publicly t

else, a flicker of suspicion, a deep, unsettling curiosit

eading across her face as she accepted the whispered congratulations f

hat while my design was disqualified, the award for innovation would be

e stage, forced to accept a

questioning. He knew something was wrong. His gaze held a spark of possessive confusion, a silent promise that this was

d away, melting into the crowd. I had given up the prize,