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I couldn’t hear it from where I stood.
Octavia could.
“Dr. Dubois?” she said, louder this time.
“Why are you telling them to shut down the livestream?”
Dubois’s voice cracked the slightest bit.
“There’s been… a technical issue.”
Octavia turned toward the secondary screen.
The footage streamed as smoothly as ever.
“Really? Because from here, everything looks perfectly functional. So unless the “issue” is your ego, I suggest you answer my question.”
The chat feed behind me was boiling.
[Is that @MVanceJewels?]
[I bought her bracelet. Loved it. No way this is legit]
[Bribes. Has to be]
[Rigged.]
[Rigged]
[Rigged.]
In the hall, the shouts started out scattered and low.
“It’s rigged!”
“That score’s a joke!”
“Say it to her face!”
Chairs scraped.
Half the third row stood.
Phones shot up.
Cameras locked on Dubois.
She reached for her mic again.
Her hand trembled slightly.
“Everyone, please, calm down. Scoring is based on each judge’s independent criteria. Some variation is expected-“
Octavia didn’t even need to raise her voice.
“Don’t insult us. You gave that walking disaster nine points. Now suddenly you can’t see straight? That’s not a difference of opinion. That’s rigged.”
Dubois inhaled sharply.
“Miss Grey, you’re a guest. I’m a qualified adjudicator. You comment on surface appeal. We evaluate across multiple metrics-“
Octavia let out a short laugh.
“Right. Because if I’m not one of you, I must be clueless.”
She folded her arms.
“Fine. Then educate us. What are these mysterious “metrics”? Tell us. Right now.”
A voice shot out from the back: “Yeah, let’s hear it!”
Another: “That was the best design all day!”
Third: “Score or step down!”
From where I stood, I could see the whole stage.
Security clustered near the exits, hesitating.
Dubois stared at her hands.
The mic shook.
“We’re taking a ten-minute break,” she said.
“We’ll resume soon.”
“Why?” I stepped forward.
“There’s no segment left. I’m the last contestant. The doesn’t list a break.”
The crowd roared.
The comment feed behind me had probably imploded by now.
I didn’t need to look.
Dubois spun toward me.
Her glare was sharp, desperate.
“What exactly do you want?” program “I want a real score. I want transparency.” I pointed at the screen. My pieces hovered in high- resolution detail, turning slowly under the overhead lights.
“It’s all right there. Let the audience decide. Let the livestream stay open.”
“Absolutely not!” she snapped.
“The public doesn’t understand technical design. That’s the point of a panel. We’re the standard.”
“Then maybe you’re the problem.” I stared straight at her.
“Because right now, the comment section’s doing a better job than you.”
She opened her mouth.
No sound came out,
A woman seated next to Octavia leaned forward “Miss Vance makes a solid point. If the result’s disputed, let the people decide. I’d have given bera den myself. It’s stunning work.”
She looked right at me.
I held her gaze and nodded coce The chat went wold again.. abo is that woman? She’s making sense.]
(Us she a judge too?)
Someone drop ber name, she’s boc]
(That’s Bowen Balel My idoll Did she just come back from oversees?
Dr. Dubois was sweating through her blouse.
Literal sweet It scared the edge of her collar and glistened above ber I.
She got up from ber seat, approached me, then spoke in a low whisper. you sap this on Flestre your submission. A better score, Just… don’t escalate it.
“No. I’m not the one who started this. You did” Traised the mic.
“And we still haven’t called ?our vit? you pulled backstage. You died to smear me, so let’s hear in Go on. Tell them what happened behind that cursein.”
Someone shouted from de audience.
“Fadsage drama? Tell us!”Another yelled, “She got paid off for sure!
Dubois locked like she wanted to bolt, et faint, ofbech.
She covered my mix with one hand.
“Torment to think very carefully. This isn’t just some local talent show. This is the top design competition in the country. We’re backed by the National Guild. If you plan to keep working, you need to mop stirring the pot.”
“Fou’re threatening me.”
“Tes. I am.” Ber mostrils fared.
“You’ll never work again if you don’t shut up and cooperate-“
I lifted the other mic I’d been holding behind my back to her mouth mid-sentence.
“Sorry, you’re mumbling. Could you repeat that into the mic?”
Her threat blasted through every speaker in the room.
I watched her jaw stutter, and for a split second, thought she might bite her own tongue off.
“Did everyone catch that? She just said she’d blacklist me.”
The audience didn’t hesitate.
“We heard it!”
“Lunatic!”
“She thinks she runs the whole damn industry?”
“She should blacklist herself first!”