“No personal grudge?” Sophia scoffed, her voice dripping with disbelief. “Zoe, stop playing games. Are you seriously going to pretend you don’t want to surpass Isabella? That you don’t dream of making your studio the most prestigious in Geneva?”

Her face tightened. “And now, you’re telling me to handle this alone? Zoe, do you think I’m an idiot? What’s the plan—if this blows up in my face, you’ll walk away clean and leave me holding the blame? Do you really believe I’m that easily fooled?”

Zoe was taken aback by Sophia’s sudden sharpness. She hadn’t expected the usually pliable Sophia to see through her so quickly.

“Sophia, you’ve got it all wrong.” Zoe quickly composed herself, flashing a warm, reassuring smile. “I would never do that to you. We’re partners, remember? We sink or swim together.”

She stepped closer, linking arms with Sophia and guiding her toward a nearby sofa. “Sophia, I know you’re frustrated. Don’t worry—I’ll handle everything,” Zoe said soothingly, gently taking the phone from Sophia’s grasp.

“Leave the draft with me. Just sit back and watch the show. This time, Isabella won’t recover from the humiliation she’s about to face at the competition.” Sophia’s tense expression finally relaxed. She gave a small nod. “That sounds more like it.”

“Sophia, trust me,” Zoe assured her, patting her chest confidently. “When this is over, we’ll celebrate properly.”

“Alright. It’s a deal!” Sophia grinned.

“Deal!” Zoe echoed with a smirk.

Satisfied, Sophia exited the studio.

The moment she stepped outside, Zoe’s sweet smile vanished, replaced by a cold, contemptuous look.

“Fool,” she muttered with disdain. “Does she actually think she’s worthy of negotiating with me?”

She glanced down at the draft on the screen, a shadow of confusion crossing her mind. Something about it felt… off.

Though meticulously designed, the piece lacked a certain brilliance—a distinctive spark that had always defined Isabella’s creations.

Was she overanalyzing?

Frowning, Zoe replayed memories of Isabella’s previous masterpieces. Each had been striking, bursting with originality and flair—impossible to forget. Yet the draft before her, while impressive, fell short of that level.

Could it be that Isabella’s talent had declined?

Zoe shook her head, pushing the thought aside.

Impossible!

Then what exactly was happening?

No matter how much she strained her mind, the situation refused to make sense.

She studied the design draft for what felt like an eternity. The more she examined it, the more something felt off. Could it be… a fake?

Zoe’s heart skipped a beat. She abruptly lifted her gaze toward the doorway, but Sophia had already disappeared into the night.

Zoe’s expression darkened further. She tightened her grip on her phone, her fingers turning pale from the pressure.

If the draft was fake, did that mean Sophia had been deceived?

No, that couldn’t be right.

Sophia might lack sharpness, but she wouldn’t be oblivious enough to mistake a fake, would she? Besides, the draft came from an employee of Isabella’s studio—how could it possibly be fake?

Unless… Isabella had orchestrated this deliberately.