I faked a yawn. Told them I was wiped, wanted to call it a night.
Clara started to whine, but Clementine cut her off with a single look, then smiled and signed to me,
"If you're tired, get some rest."
Then she pulled Clara out of the room.
I didn't sleep at all that night.
Geoffrey's outline was identical to mine. If someone had leaked it, the only people who'd ever been in my study were Clementine and Clara. It had to be them.
I couldn't figure out why they'd do it.
My own sister—blood family. Clara—the girl I'd grown up next to since we were kids. And all of that counted for less than six months of knowing Geoffrey Harrington?
After a full night of thinking, I made a bold decision.
In my previous life, my contest entry had been fantasy, the genre I was best at.
It won first place, but it was old wine in a new bottle. Nothing groundbreaking.
This time, I'd write a mystery.
If my last life ended with plagiarism accusations, then I'd write something entirely new.
Win or lose, at the very least I'd shake the plagiarism label off my back. That was enough.
I went to the library study room, where I could look up reference material and rebuild the novel from scratch.