Framed for Art Theft, But I Ranked Dead Last

The moment I registered for the Traditional Painting Championship, words began scrolling across my vision:

[Here it comes! The idealized love returns from abroad, steals the female lead's work, gets exposed and humiliated—total downfall!]

[Sure, the male lead and his idealized love were childhood sweethearts, but they haven't seen each other in seven or eight years. No way that compares to a couple who's been inseparable day and night!]

[idealized love? Please. Wallis Gilbert is just a vicious side character. Don't insult the term.]

A girl dressed in my old style approached me.

"Hi, I'm Juliana Fox from the class next door. I heard you're an amazing painter—I've always wanted to meet you. I never expected we'd run into each other at the same competition."

I gave her a cool nod.

After the results were announced, a red-eyed Juliana grabbed my arm.

"You switched our paintings, didn't you? How can you live with yourself, winning through such dirty tricks?"

Clint James, the golden boy judge, pinched the bridge of his nose so hard a fly could've died in the crease.

"Go to the Organizing Committee yourself and withdraw. You have no right to compete in the finals."

Contemptuous stares bore into me from every direction. I pointed at the worst painting hanging on the wall.

"Win what, exactly?" I asked, genuinely confused. "I came in dead last. I couldn't make the finals if I tried."

The comments exploded:

[Wait WHAT?! What's happening?!]

1.

Juliana's jaw dropped.

"Aren't you supposed to be some kind of painting prodigy? There's no way that... that chicken scratch is yours!"

Clint—who had pretended not to know me during registration—seized my wrist.

"Wallis! You've been painting since childhood. You studied abroad for seven or eight years. How could you possibly be last?"

I was momentarily speechless.

If he recognized me, then he should know.

I've always studied oil painting. Not traditional Chinese painting.

I only entered because my parents mentioned Clint was one of the judges. They wanted me to surprise him.

It was supposed to be casual. I never intended to place.

Then those ominous comments appeared the second I registered.

"I bet this isn't your first time," Clint spat. "All those awards you've won—stolen, weren't they? We grew up together. I won't stand by and watch you keep making mistakes!"

I blinked, struggling to process his rapid-fire accusations.

When had I ever stolen anyone's work?

And "grew up together"?

Our fathers' companies had collaborated a few times. We'd met maybe three or four occasions—the last one seven or eight years ago.

How did that qualify as growing up together?

But Clint had already delivered his verdict.

"You're going to withdraw voluntarily. Then you'll hold a press conference and return every honor that doesn't belong to you." His grip tightened. "Don't make me break off our engagement."

He was strong. He dragged me several steps before I could even think of resisting.

"Engagement?" I repeated.

My parents had never mentioned any engagement. They'd always supported me finding love on my own terms.

What was he talking about?

My bewildered expression must have looked like fear to him.

Disdain flickered through his eyes. "If my parents hadn't asked me to look after you, I wouldn't give you a second glance."

Juliana, tears still glistening on her cheeks, played the gracious victim.

"If she won't admit it, let's just drop it. It's only a competition. There's always next year."

Before I could reiterate that I'd genuinely placed last—no tricks, no schemes—Clint stepped protectively in front of her.

"Your family can barely make ends meet. You were counting on winning first place to pay your tuition! By next year, you won't even be in school anymore!"

His jaw clenched, his expression one of anguished admiration.

"You're too strong for your own good. I've offered to help—money, connections, anything—but you insist on doing everything yourself. You're nothing like those spoiled princesses who've had everything handed to them..."