?Chapter 1057:

Carrie, strip her of her clean image, and watch the Music Association cast her out in disgrace. The more Aliza envisioned it, the lighter she felt. Even if fingers pointed at her too, the damage to Carrie would be irreversible.

With that triumphant glint in her eyes, Aliza took a step forward and said, “Ms. Campbell, I never thought you would stoop so low as to drag me into this. What exactly are you trying to prove? If I did giarize Randell’s work—what has that got to do with you? Do you think exposing me clears your own name? Are you just blurting out usations in desperation?”

Her voice rang with confidence, but halfway through her rant, she noticed something unsettling. Carrie was just standing there. Smiling. Watching her quietly, as if Aliza were some child throwing a tantrum in a room full of adults.

And that rattled her. Could Carrie really prove she did not giarize? What if she had paid off Randell’sposer already—silenced him before any damage could be done?

Aliza’s thoughts spun. Her certainty wavered.

“Of course,” she said, her voice rising again, now slightly sharper, “the Morrison family has power and influence. If you are using your money or your connections to pressure Randell’sposer into covering for you, then there is nothing more to say.”

She exhaled, believing she had regained the upper hand. That final line, she thought, was a masterstroke. It cast just enough doubt to muddy the waters. Even if Carrie had done nothing of the sort, the seed was now nted in everyone’s minds.

The Morrison family, firm in their belief that Carrie would never stoop to giarism, began to suspect that the Herrera family had bribed theposer to forge evidence against Carrie.

Arion began to rise from his seat, his jaw clenched. But a hand caught his wrist. He looked down. Luca.

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“Trust Carrie,” Luca said softly.

“She can handle this.”

Beside him, Reece gave a quiet nod.

“Yes,” he murmured.

“I trust her too.”

Arion hesitated, then sank back into his chair. Around him, his family leaned in, watching the stage in tense silence.

Carrie tilted her head slightly, her posture rxed, her voice level and almost bored.

“Miss Herrera, are you finished? Or do you have any more theories you would like to share with us?”

There was no anger in her tone—only detachment. Her calmness was unnerving, like someone far removed from the drama unfolding in front of her.

When Aliza failed to respond, Carrie continued, her voice steady, “I would like to ask something. Why should I have to prove my innocence? Which specific Music Association regtion prohibits stylistic consistency between my evaluation submission and themercially released work Iposed?”

The crowd fell silent at once, therge hall plunging into a tense hush. For a heartbeat, no one could grasp the meaning lurking behind Carrie’s words.

Kendall’s brows knitted together as he leaned forward.

“Are you suggesting you’re theposer for Randell?”

“That’s impossible!” Aliza snapped, her voice crackling with indignation. She barreled on, oblivious to her crumblingposure.

“Mr. Watson, how could you entertain such absurd ims from Carrie?”

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