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I thought Alex had finally found his conscience, feeling guilty towards me, his biological sister.
Turns out, he was just feeling guilty.
He begged me not to publicly embarrass Ann or expose her for framing me.
I ignored him and instead joined the label of the mentor who had recognized my talent ten years ago.
He said even though I couldn’t sing personally now, my songwriting talent was enough to establish me in the music industry.
As for Ann Lawrence, without me to plagiarize from, she faded into obscurity in less than half a year.
A year later, I released a new song titled "Metamorphosis," performed by a female singer under the label with a voice similar to mine.
The song encapsulated my journey over the years—from anger to self-doubt, then back to self-acceptance, transformation, and growth.
Within three days of its release, it climbed to number one on the hot song charts.
Listeners praised it highly, saying the melody was inspiring and the lyrics stirring.
Upon looking into it, they discovered the composer and lyricist was me, Isabelle Lawrence.
Everyone was astonished.
They dug deeper and found I had long left Alex’s company and had no further contact with the Lawrence family.
Walls have ears.
Someone found out what happened on the yacht a year ago on my 20th birthday.
One of the fishermen bribed by Ann got drunk and spilled the truth.
It was the very one Alex had paid off back then.
Suddenly wealthy, he moved his family downtown, partying night after night.
Boasting proudly about his windfall during a drinking session, someone with ulterior motives exposed him.
Suddenly, Lawrence Group and our parents, the music legends, were besieged by the media.
Under their questioning, our parents awkwardly stated they respected my wishes.
Ann was also ridiculed, called a washed-up wannabe desperately trying to play the phoenix but resembling a common chicken.
She could never outshine me, the true phoenix.
Ann threw tantrums, demanding my father fulfill his promise to me.
He had to write a song to perform with her, overshadowing my moment at the awards.
My father refused. She tore down the last pretense.
She said if my father didn’t comply, she would expose how he and Alex had hired people to cripple me!
The family was horrified, realizing she had eavesdropped on their conversation and even recorded it.
Left with no choice, my father wrote a song for her.
On awards night, when my father and Ann performed the duet, Ann tried to fake father-daughter affection to provoke me, reaching out to hold my father’s hand.
But my father, stone-faced, avoided her.
Reporters gossiped, saying Ann, the adopted daughter, had fallen out of favor.
Later, after my song was performed and received even higher praise, some noticed similarities between my new song and the one Ann had accused me of plagiarizing last year.
People began questioning Ann’s songwriting abilities. Standing on the awards stage, I finally revealed the truth.
When they heard I had written that song, even those who hadn’t believed before were now convinced.
Because I personally analyzed the meaning behind the lyrics, word by word.
These were all real experiences and emotional journeys for me—things Ann could never know.
She only had the techniques and ideas from when I created them, unaware of the countless stories woven within.
Suddenly, everyone pressed Ann: if she had written it, what was the meaning behind the lyrics?
Ann stammered, unable to answer, and could only look to our parents for help.
But they pretended not to see, leaving her stranded in embarrassment.
That night, Ann was thoroughly humiliated, topping the trend.
