Cliff hung his head pitifully, the picture of wounded innocence.

The judges' expressions turned grave.

"The entire painting process was conducted under surveillance," one of them said. "It's impossible for anyone to have swapped the works."

Cliff's eyes reddened as he lifted his head, glaring at the long-haired female judge at the front. "Ms. Chavez, you're friends with Jack Gilbert's mother. Of course you'd side with him. But none of us even said who did this, and you're already rushing to cover for him. Don't you think that's a bit much?"

Bonnie piled on, her voice cold as ice: "Ms. Chavez, I donated five million dollars to this competition. Not so I could watch you play favorites and pull strings behind the scenes. My prize money needs to go to someone who actually deserves it."

The other contestants joined the chorus:

"So the judge is friends with Jack Gilbert's mother? No wonder he had a chance to swap the paintings!"

"What a dirty trick. And he calls himself old money? More like a parasite feeding off ordinary people!"

Cliff fixed Delilah Chavez with a stubborn stare. "I demand a review of all competition entries! And I demand that Ms. Chavez—who's clearly covering for him—step down immediately!"

Delilah didn't speak. I beat her to it.

"On what grounds are you demanding a review?" My voice cut through the noise. "On what grounds are you demanding Ms. Chavez step down?"

"Based on nothing but your baseless accusations? Do you have any idea how much extra work you'd be dumping on the staff?"

"You keep talking about being some poor kid who had it rough, but you sure don't hesitate to make life hell for people who actually work for a living."

"Yes, Ms. Chavez is my mother's friend. But she hasn't done a single thing to cover for me. If you want her gone, you'd better come up with some actual evidence."

I could tolerate Cliff slandering me—after all, it was nothing but speculation.

But dragging an innocent woman like Delilah into this? That was unforgivable.

Her husband, Marcus Chavez, had kidney failure. He survived on dialysis.

She'd refused my mother's offer to help pay for his treatment, insisting she'd handle the tens of thousands in monthly medical bills herself.

That was why she treasured every job, every side gig. She never complained. Never asked for pity.

I wasn't about to let Cliff destroy her.