Chapter 253
Hearing this, Alarieka understood everything now. Roschelle had investigated Lindsey Weaver. There was no doubt, no probing. Roschelle had absolutely investigated Lindsey Weaver. She was absolutely certain Lindsey Weaver didn’t know Roschelle Whitaker and hadn’t made friends with anyone online.
The screen behind them kept playing the video. The piano piece under Lindsey Weaver’s fingers perfectly matched the one Alarieka had performed, note for note.
A wave of murmurs swept through the audience, because Roschelle Whitaker openly admitted to plagiarism. Because Roschelle wasn’t Lindsey Weaver–Lindsey was her own person.
The revelations exploded like fireworks. Judges and spectators sat stunned, too shocked to speak.
“You prepared thoroughly,” Alarieka heard her own voice, icy calm yet simmering with hidden fury. “You investigated her. That’s how you knew so much.”
A crystal tear slid down Roschelle’s cheek. She smiled, nostalgic yet liberated, wiping it away with a faint curve of her lips. “Alarieka, I know you misunderstand me now. I get it.”
“But I hope you’ll understand me too. I truly didn’t know you were planning things for her, caring so deeply. Had I known… maybe I wouldn’t have taken this path.”
She laughed then, a self-mocking sound. “…Or ended up exposed as a plagiarist today, humiliated. Still, it worked. At least many now know Lindsey Weaver’s name. And her final piano piece. That’s what she wanted, right?”
“Seeing you care for her like this… it genuinely makes me happy.”
Alarieka’s dark eyes turned piercing. “Your act is convincing. But your justification? Flimsy.”
As the video ended, silence swallowed the hall, thick enough to hear a pin drop.
Ms. Wyatt frowned, her tone stern. “What are you two doing? This is a competition, not a chat room.”
Roschelle decisively took the microphone. “Ms. Wyatt, esteemed judges, everyone–please grant Alarieka and me a moment. We’ll clarify.”
“As you witnessed, I’m not Lindsey Weaver. My Love’s Affection plagiarized Lindsey’s Yearning Sonata. Lindsey was my friend—exceptionally skilled, brilliantly gifted—yet never gained recognition. Not until her death.”
“I wanted to fulfill her wish. So I borrowed Lindsey’s name, composed Love’s Affection, used plagiarism to generate buzz… all to make people see her, see Yearning Sonata. That’s why I falsely claimed Lindsey was my alias—just hoping everyone would notice Lindsey. Remember her name.”
“Today… that wish is finally realized.”
“I’m also grateful to you, Alarieka,” Roschelle lowered her eyelids with a soft smile. “Without your exposure, achieving this might’ve taken longer.”
The audience now grasped the “full story,” though something felt undeniably strange, slightly off.
Roschelle continued, unwavering. “But regardless of my intentions… plagiarism remains plagiarism.”
Her voice rang clear, calm, carrying both resignation and release. “Since it’s plagiarism, I accept all consequences. I apologize for wasting your time. To everyone here… I’m truly sorry.”
With that, Roschelle Whitaker clasped her hands before her abdomen and bowed deeply toward the audience–a perfect ninety-degree angle. She held this sincere bow for nearly half a minute before straightening up.
The audience remained silent at first, then scattered applause broke out, eventually swelling into thunderous, enduring ovation.
“Hold on.”
A calm voice reached Roschelle’s ears, freezing the smile on her lips.
She straightened to see Alarieka Huston’s composed expression, utterly unreadable.
“First,” Alarieka stated coolly, “you claim to be Lindsey Weaver’s friend. Wouldn’t you know she despises plagiarism above all? As her friend, you shouldn’t have resorted to copying.”
“Second,” she continued, “by your own account, countless methods existed to make her famous. Why choose deception through theft? Ms. Whitaker, you’re a daughter of the Whitaker family. With your family’s resources, couldn’t you elevate any pianist effortlessly? Why shoulder the stigma of plagiarism? Why demean yourself this way?”