Chapter 8: Emily's POV

Time flew by in the blink of an eye, and the day of the bid had finally arrived.

Armed with my brand-new brake system technology, I arrived at the bidding center early and followed the signs to find my assigned seat.

Along the way, I deliberately scanned the entire venue and found no sign of Evan or anyone from the Kane Group. I let out a quiet breath of relief.

I figured that as long as we didn't run into each other, once the bidding was over, there would be no reason for us to ever meet again.

Compared to the pre-bid period, the flow of people at the formal bidding event was relatively small. After the representatives from each company took their seats, it wasn't long before the chairman of the International Racing Commission stepped up to the podium to announce the rules and regulations of the bid, followed by the official declaration that the proceedings had begun.

Following the order determined by the earlier lottery draw, representatives from each company took the stage one by one, presenting and explaining the new technologies developed by their respective groups through PowerPoint slides and verbal presentations.

Faced with so many talented individuals and powerful corporations, I felt a little nervous. As the lights in the bidding hall dimmed and the emcee announced my name along with my laboratory's background, I stepped forward.

The moment the words fell, I could clearly hear a ripple of murmured conversation rise from the audience below.

Scattered laughter and hushed whispers spread from seat to seat throughout the hall.

Everyone in attendance today had the backing of multinational conglomerates, automotive giants, or capital alliances.

They commanded billions in liquid assets, fully developed supply chains, and global partnership networks.

By contrast, my anonymous laboratory had appeared out of nowhere — no name, no credentials, no major financial backing. Standing before this crowd of heavyweight bidders, I looked like a grain of sand mixed into a pile of uncut jade. It seemed a little presumptuous, to say the least.

But I felt as though I could sense my father's strength — an invisible force lifting me up. I paid no mind to the skeptical murmurs below, my expression calm and composed.

With a light tap of my laser pointer, the giant screen behind me switched slides, skipping past vague venue planning and cutting straight to the core.

The three-dimensional modeling blueprints of the brand-new racing brake system filled the screen.

I spoke at a steady pace, breaking down the highlights of the proposal one by one. As my presentation continued, the murmuring and skeptical sounds from the audience gradually faded into silence.

Everything went not only smoothly, but beyond what I had anticipated. After I stepped off the stage, the next representative to take the podium was from the Kane family.

I returned to my seat, pulled out my compact from my bag, and touched up my makeup. As the mirror shifted in my hand for just a moment, I suddenly caught a glimpse of Evan's face in the corner of the second floor.

I was so startled that I immediately snapped the mirror shut. I had assumed Evan hadn't come to the bidding event — but it turned out he had been sitting in the distance the whole time, watching everything.

I reined in my thoughts and silently prayed that Evan hadn't noticed me.

Then I quietly listened to the technical presentation on stage. This was the last consortium representative to go up.

After three hours of bidding, I had gained a comprehensive understanding of each company's proposal, and I felt quite confident that even with the automotive industry titan, the Lane family, in the running, they didn't seem to have anything that could surpass my new brake system.

Just as the panel of judges was deliberating over their scores, a staff member in a black suit rushed up to the judges' table with a visible look of tension on his face, holding a manila envelope in his hands.

The panel immediately set down what they were doing. After seeing the contents of the envelope, their expressions collectively tightened.

I even noticed that several of the judges glanced in my direction.

I had just been feeling a touch of self-satisfaction moments before, but a sense of unease suddenly swept through me.

The audience below erupted into chatter almost instantly.

The emcee quickly took the stage to reassure the representatives from each consortium.

Twenty minutes later, the chairman of the commission stepped up to the podium and announced that the bidding event had concluded successfully, stating that the results would be announced within seven business days.

Representatives from the various consortiums began filing out of the hall one after another. I, however, was not so lucky — I was pulled aside by a member of the judging committee for a private conversation.

I followed the staff member into a small, dim room. The dull yellow lighting made me uncomfortable. A man in a navy blue uniform walked up to me, his expression grave.

"Miss Emily Moore! The International Racing Commission has received a letter of complaint stating that you plagiarized the design proposal. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

The man spoke bluntly, his tone unfriendly, staring at me as though my guilt had already been established beyond any doubt.

I had never done anything of the sort — there was no way I would admit to it. The old Emily was already "dead." The Emily standing here now had no friends and no enemies.

I even began to wonder — could it be that Evan had recognized me?

Seeing that I said nothing, the man slammed both hands down on the table in front of me, clearly trying to pressure me.

Other than being startled for a brief moment, my expression remained completely unmoved. I slowly raised my head and looked at the man.

"I believe I have the right to know — who filed the complaint against me?"

My tone was just as firm, without a trace of pleading.

The man hadn't expected that kind of attitude from me. He said nothing, turned, and left the room. About five minutes later, he came back.

"Miss Moore, we can tell you the name of the complainant, but we also hope you'll give us an honest account of the situation."

I gave a small nod.

"The complainant did not leave a full name. They only left the initial 'E,' and stated that they are the actual developer of this technology. They are also an automotive engineer."

Of all the things I had calculated, I never expected it to be him. I couldn't help it — the corner of my lips curved upward ever so slightly.

The man noticed my expression, clearly amused by something, and immediately moved to stop it, raising his voice at me.

"Emily Moore! You had better come clean. Don't try to play games with the commission. If we confirm that you plagiarized this design, the commission has every right to disqualify you from the competition and hold you accountable!"

I reined in my smile and looked at the man, explaining calmly.

"Every piece of technology and every core concept came from our laboratory team. There was absolutely no plagiarism involved."

"Emily Moore! The evidence is right in front of you, and you're still making excuses. That will only make things worse for you. How could a core technology like the one you presented on stage today possibly have been developed by some small, unknown laboratory?"

The man cut me off the moment I finished speaking. From his words, I finally understood what he meant — he, and the entire commission for that matter, believed that a new brake system of this caliber simply couldn't have been designed by an ordinary person.

This time, I made no effort to hold back my reaction. I laughed out loud.

I couldn't help but think how narrow-minded these people were — people with money and power.

"Emily, you are showing contempt for the commission!"

When the man saw my undisguised laughter, he stopped holding back his own temper as well.

I rose from my chair and looked the flustered man dead in the eye, speaking slowly and deliberately.

"I am not showing contempt for anyone. It is you who are doubting my technology. Since you don't believe me, there's no point in explaining further."

I pulled out my phone and looked at the man. "Right now, I can prove my innocence right in front of you."