Anna set her coffee cup down, her smile faint but polite. "Is there something I can help you with, Mrs. Luke?"
Mrs. Luke's sharp eyes burned with resentment as she took in Anna's radiant, youthful face.
Her voice dripped venom when she spat, "You seductive witch! If you can't design, then don't dare agree to it! And you still dare call yourself an international chief designer? Shameless!"
Anna blinked, confused. What now? She frowned slightly, her voice calm. "What's wrong?"
Her question only stoked Mrs. Luke's fury.
The older woman took a step forward, voice rising with accusation. "The dress you designed for me is nothing but a copy of the one that won another international competition four years ago!"
The words struck the room like a thunderclap.
Plagiarism.
The ugliest word in the fashion world. No designer, no company, especially not Luke Group, would tolerate it.
And here it was, hurled straight at Anna, the chief designer of International Fashion.
