Blurb：
Vincent Lowe’s life has been haunted by his rival, Connor Hansen, who steals his sculpting masterpieces before he can reveal them. Betrayed by friends and family, only his wife Amelia stands by him—until the final competition. When Connor unveils a perfect replica of Vincent’s work, Amelia, a judge, shockingly accuses Vincent of plagiarism. As the crowd turns violent, Vincent’s last hope crumbles. Can he prove his innocence when even his witness conspires against him? A tale of art, obsession, and revenge where the medium becomes the message. Discover the truth behind the identical sculptures and the twisted bond between Vincent and Connor.
Content：
My lifelong rival, Connor Hansen, has been leeching off my talent our entire careers, using some kind of cheat.
Every single piece I create, he somehow manages to put out just a hair before I do.
My family and friends all turned their backs on me.
Only my wife, Amelia, stayed by my side.
But when Connor submitted a piece that was a perfect replica mine.
And Amelia, who was a judge, stood up and testified that I was the one who plagiarized Connor.
She just stood there and watched as his fanatics nearly beat me to death.
In total despair, I challenged Connor to one final contest.
Go ahead, tell me. How can you still steal a sculpture when the medium is my own body?
“Vincent Lowe, you thieving son of a bitch! What possible excuse could you have left!”
Connor Hansen stormed onto the stage, ripped the curtain off my sculpture, and shoved his own piece right next to it for comparison.
HD cameras projected every details onto the massive screen above,
revealing to the audience two pieces that were nearly identical, even the individual strands of hair were perfect copies.
A restless murmur spread through the crowd.
“They’re not just similar… they’re exactly the same!”
“Plagiarism! The audacity to still compete!”
“This is blatant! Does he think we’re blind? No talent, just a hack!”
I was so shocked I was speechless.
I turned and saw Connor’s face, twisted in a triumphant smirk.
Connor Hansen has been my shadow, my curse, since we were teenagers.
I’ve been passionately in love with sculpting since I was a kid, convinced it was my calling.
Yet, every time I poured my soul into a new piece, Connor would somehow unveil an identical one just days, sometimes hours, before me.
Over after another, everyone decided I was the copycat.
All this frustration got stuck in my throat, impossible to voice or swallow.
Even though those works were born from my own hands, I couldn’t prove it.
This competition was my last shot—a chance Amelia had supposedly secured for me to clear my name.
The judging panel was filled with lengends, world-renowned artists.
If I won this match, all the doubts would vanish.
I had been wondering why I hadn’t seen a copycat piece from Connor during the earlier rounds.
Turns out, he was waiting for the finals to publicly crucify me.
Sculpture isn’t like painting, there’s no video proof, no technical way to retrace each step of creation.
But… I have a witness!
I looked straight my wife on the judges’ pane, my voice firm.
“My entire creative process was witnessed by Ms. Amelia Lowe, my wife. She can vouch for my innocence!”
All eyes shifted to her, but she just cleared her throat and avoided my gaze.
Her voice echoed through the hall, cold and formal.
“Vincent…”
She suddenly became stern and righteous.
“While I’m your wife, my role as a judge for this sculpture competition, I cannot, and will not, abuse my power to provide false testimony for you.”
I felt the floor drop from under me.
False testimony? What was she saying? She saw me create it with her own eyes.
She continued.
“My duty is to the truth. I cannot favor you because of our relationship, let alone commit perjury for you.”
“I personally witnessed Connor’s carving process. If you apologize to him now, for old time’s sake, I might convince him to drop the charges.”
Her sudden betrayal left my mind blank. My composure shattered.
“I won’t apologize! I didn’t steal anything!”
Connor, however, just shoved his hands in his pockets and let out a condescending chuckle.
“I gotta admire your persistence in copying, really. Tough spirit.”
He deliberately emphasized the word “copy.”
I was trembling with rage.
“I didn’t…”
“True art deserves protection! I hope everyone will stand against all plagiarism!”
That was all the crowd needed. His supporters surged forward, shouting,
“A repeat offender!”
“Get this fraud out of here! He’s polluting the art world!”
Before I could react, a fist slammed hard into my face. I stumbled and crashed to the cold floor.
Then, the kicks and punches kept coming. I curled into a ball, protecting my head. Blood streamed down my forehead, my ears ringing.
No one intervened. Not the security, not the judges. Not even Amelia.
And that’s when I heard it. Clear as day, but inside my head—Connor’s voice.
“This pathetic fool. He never suspected a thing. The copycat system works perfectly.”
“Planting Amelia with him was a brilliant move. Gotta beat him down, then offer a way out. That’s how you keep the pipeline flowing.”
The revelation was a jolt of lightning, momentarily numbing the physical pain.
My wife was my anchor.
Before Connor showed up, I was the genius in my parents’ eyes, the pride among friends. Everyone surrounded me, praising my sculpting talent.
But after Connor appeared, everything changed.
I became the punchline, unable to prove the truth.
My friends drifted away.
My parents cut ties with me.
When everyone turned their backs on me, only Amelia stood firmly by my side.
It was all a lie.
Every single one of them, liars!
But who would believe me?
A “copycat system”? It sounded insane, even to me.
No one would ever believe me.
If I hadn’t suddenly gained the ability to hear his thoughts, my own stubborn pride would have made me dance in his palm for the rest of my life, polishing the very trophies he stole from me.
A wild, hysterical laugh burst from me, startling everyone.
The people beating me stopped, looking at each other, confused.
“Did we hit him too hard? He’s lost it.”
I locked eyes with Amelia across the room, my voice a raw plea.
“Do you really… believe I plagiarized?”
What I really wanted to ask was, did you ever truly love me?
Amelia touched her nose somewhat uncomfortably.
“Of course, I saw it with my own eyes. Stop digging yourself a deeper hole.”
My heart felt like it was being sliced open, but I still managed a broken smile.
“Thank you.”
She frowned, looking at me as if I were a stranger.
“Are you insane? Thank me for what?”
“Thank you for helping me make up my mind.”
Then, I pointed a shaky finger at Connor.
“I have one last piece in mind that will shock the world. Do you have the guts for one final competition?”
This piece, you absolutely cannot steal.
He seemed taken aback, then raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips.
“You’re on.”
“But when you lose, you get on your knees. You bow your head to the floor, and you apologize to the entire art world.”
I nodded in agreement but didn’t say what would happen if he lost.
Just like that, we agreed to meet again in ten days with our finished pieces, the whole thing streamed live.
Before I walked away, I took one deep look at my wife.
From that day on, I completely vanished from the public eye.
Amelia initially thought I was just licking my wounds. She called a few times, but I never picked up.
Connor just waved it off, telling her,
“Just forget about him. He’ll crawl out of his hole on the day.”
“The guy’s unhinged. Who knows what he’s thinking? Just stay close to me.”
Amelia totally agreed, only feeling angry that I was ignoring her, and stopped caring about me.
She had no idea I was already a dead man.
My body was entombed within the greatest sculpture I’d ever created.
And now, my spirit stands here, right beside her and Connor, watching.
I watched Connor take Amelia to every red-carpet event and talk show over the past week, soaking up the spotlight.
He didn’t set foot in his studio once.
Now, he was pretentiously taking a microphone, holding court in front of reporters.
“I believe that in the art world,” he declared, “plagiarists are the absolute bottom-feeders.”
Amelia stood by his side, gazing at him with pure admiration.
But then a reporter’s question cut through the air, sharp and direct.
“Ms. Amelia Lowe, by coming forward to testify against your own husband, were you and Mr. Hansen involved in an inappropriate relationship?”
Amelia’s brow furrowed in feigned offense.
“Please show some respect. My relationship with Connor is completely professional.”
“I only stand on the side of justice.”
I could only scoff.
Amelia looked back at Connor, her eyes softening.
The reporter then turned the spotlight back on Connor.
“You’ve been making the media rounds nonstop. Aren’t you concerned about being unprepared for the competition?”
Connor waved a hand, oozing false modesty.
“Not at all! That’s the privilege of genius! Genius isn’t afraid of some pathetic clown!”
This interview quickly went viral.
It sparked fierce debate online, with one side heaping praise on Connor and the other hurling insults at me.
“True genius doesn’t need preparetion! Connor has this in the bag!”
“Vincent must have a hide thicker than bronze. How does he even show his face? It’s embarrassing.”
“He should have been blacklisted ages ago. Scum like him doesn’t deserve to be called an artist!”
Although some rational voices questioned， “Isn’t Connor being overly confident? What if he chokes?”
But these were quickly drowned out by the roaring tide of support.
Connor, reading these comments online, was already celebrating as if he’d won.
Then I saw his expression freeze for a second before bursting into ecstatic joy.
I knew it. His cheat system had just delivered the copy of my final piece.
His cheat system was bizarrely limited, it could only able copy my work and falsify creation timestamps.
Connor turned to Amelia, suggesting eagerly,
“Let’s go to my studio! I want to show you my new piece!”
Of course, he couldn’t wait to show off.
Amelia frowned slightly, a bit confused.
“But you’ve been with me every day. When did you find the time to sculpt?”
Connor dodged the question smoothly.
“burned the midnight oil, just to maximize my time with you during the day.”
Amelia was instantly touched, looking at him with delight. They left for the studio, arm in arm.
They soon arrived. Connor eagerly led Amelia towards the newly finished statue.
“This is my latest work. What do you think?”
Amelia’s initial reaction was one of surprise.
“This… this is breathtaking!”
But then her eyes narrowed slightly in recognition.
“But this… I think I’ve seen this before!”
My spirit tensed up.
“This looks like the design sketches Vincent showed me! He said all his goddess sculptures were inspired by my silhouette…”
I hadn’t expected her to remember.
Connor’s face darken, and he quickly cut her off.
“Don’t you remember? Vincent stole a lot of my preliminary designs. You promised to help me get justice, but so far…”
Amelia’s expression instantly cloued with guilty.
“I’m sorry… I failed you.”
Connor breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly, he dropped to one knee and slipped a ring onto Amelia’s finger.
“Let’s not talk about that anymore.”
“The reason I brought you here today is to ask you something.”
“Amelia, will you marry me?”
“These years have been hard on you.”
“After I publicly defeat Vincent, we can be together properly, out in the open.”
Amelia looked at Connor but didn’t answer directly. Instead, she seemed to drift away, her expression blank.
Connor’s face darkened.
“You don’t want to? Have you developed feelings for that plagiarist after all?”
Amelia panicked and denied it vehemently.
“No, no, I want to.”
She nodded vigorously and leaned in to kiss Connor.
Right in front of the statue that entombed my corpse, their kiss deepened, the wet, noisy sounds of their passion echoing in the quiet studio.
They didn’t notice this sculpture was significantly larger than any I had ever created.
Watching Connor step right into the trap,I smiled.
I looked up at the ceiling and thought, just you wait.
The day of the final judging arrived, but I was nowhere to be seen.
“Did he get cold feet?”
“Always said he was a fraud. No guts to face Connor again!”
“Probably too scared of the humiliation!”
The mocking voices rose and fell.
Connor even pretended to defend me.
“Everyone, please, let’s be charitable. Maybe Vincent let’s be charitable something truly groundbreaking!”
“However, it is a shame that Vincent is wasting everyone’s valuable time.”
“Allow me to present my piece first!”
Connor walked up to the draped sculpture and pulled the cloth away with a theatrical flourish.
As the curtain fell, the entire venue fell into a stunned silence.
For a moment, everyone was breathless, captivated by the statue’s artistry.
It depicted a scene from Greek mythology, the abduction of Persephone.
Persephone, daughter of Zeus and Demeter, was seized by Hades, god of the underworld,while she was picking flowers, taken to be his queen.
The sculpture captured the very moment of “abduction.”
The most praiseworthy aspect was the exceptional skill.
The marble seemed soft as skin, the flow of hair and fabric, even the indentation of Hades’s fingers on her skin and a single tear on the goddess’s cheek were rendered with meticulous detail.
I softly uttered the title.
“Abduction.”
This was the first layer of the meaning—represented the wrongs Connor had done to me.
Of course, he was completely oblivious.
Connor stood before the statue, chest puffed out, explaining proudly.
“This piece is called ‘Eternal Love,’ inspired by my beloved, my muse, Amelia…”
He couldn’t finish. A clear, sharp crack echoed through the hall, cutting him off.
All eyes snapped back to the statue. The flawless marble masterpiece was cracking.
The fractures spread like spiderwebs, stone dust falling like rain. As large chunks of the outer shell broke away, a second layer within the statue was gradually revealed.
It was an even more exquisitely carved, its lines fluid and delicate, the surface polished to a jade-like smoothness.
However, when the inner statue was fully exposed, the audience gasped in unison—for the face it bore was unmistakably mine!
Connor’s face froze solid. He was rendered speechless.
He had just confidently told everyone the statue was inspired by his “beloved,” but now—my face was staring back at them!
At first, the audience was still marveling at the technical brilliance.
“Incredible! A sculpture within a sculpture! What a twist!”
“Now this is meta-art! Dual creation, layered narrative!”
But as more people processed the reveal, the atmosphere in the hall grew strange and heavy.
Someone began to whisper, voice laced with confusion,
“Wait a minute… hold on. Didn’t he say the inspiration was his beloved? Why does it have Vincent’s face?”
Another voice, tinged with dawning realization, added,
“Does… does Connor have some kind of obsession with Vincent?”
A profound, bewildered silence fell over the venue.
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