"3."
The fingers of the person lying on the hospital bed trembled slightly, seemingly struggling to hold back.
Nathalie Quinlan lowered her eyelids and noticed her small movent.
Her moist lips touched lightly, then continued to count, "4."
Probably unable to endure any longer, Ghania Quinlan suddenly opened her swollen, tear-stained eyes, glaring with resentnt. There was no trace of anesthesia wearing off or grogginess—it was clear she was completely awake!
"Nathalie, I will call the Police!" Her voice was venomous, filled with so much anger and even a hint of craziness, her expression on the verge of breaking as she shouted in a low growl, "What you’ve done is illegal, I’m calling the Police, they will arrest you, you will go to prison! I will see to it that you go to prison!"
In fact, the effects of anesthesia had already worn off by the ti she ca out of the surgery. She had clearly heard in the hospital room what the doctor said to Myles Sullivan.
They said her hands could never play the piano again!
They said her hands were ruined!
All thanks to the person before her!
How could Nathalie be so ruthless! So assertive!
"Tsk." The threatened Girl slightly lifted her excessively pretty face, her beautiful black eyes fixed on her nonchalantly, "I thought I’d have to count to 8 before you’d break down. I didn’t expect you’d lose your composure after just half the count."
"Nathalie, I’m telling you I’m going to report you, I want you in prison!" Ghania’s mind exploded, unable to hear anything clearly, only rembering the doctor’s words.
She was supposed to fly abroad soon, about to start a wonderful future life, her dreams, all her aspirations destroyed in that mont—how could she remain composed.
However, she thought the other would at least be frightened, but looking into Nathalie’s eyes, she saw only calmness.
Nathalie was not scared, not scared at all... Ghania felt as if a bucket of ice water had been thrown over her head, inexplicably, her heart chilled significantly.
"Ghania, the song you won the award with was plagiarized, wasn’t it?"
A casual remark.
Ghania’s eyes, red with hatred, showed fear, instinctively dodging the accusation, "What are you talking about, what plagiarism, don’t talk nonsense."
Nathalie played with her Phone, she had made a phone call before coming to the hospital; judging by the ti, the other party should be arriving soon.
She looked at Ghania, who was utterly denying everything, and said softly, "Do you think a foreign award would go unnoticed by ?"
Ghania turned her head away, still making excuses, "I told you, I didn’t plagiarize. I don’t know what you’re talking about!"
The trophy she won at the Grammy Award was indeed ’unclean’, just as Nathalie said; she still used the arrangent Nathalie had previously edited for her, but she learned her lesson and made so slight modifications before submitting it.
Before modifying the arrangent, she didn’t know Nathalie was Lighten Chaser.
She had looked online for so arrangent clips, incorporating so of them into her original arrangent and later had Ivy Wilmar add the finishing touches, eventually earning the Grammy Gold dal for Piano Arrangent.
It was only after the online ntion and Face Slap incident did she discover Nathalie was Lighten Chaser! She imdiately checked the clips she ’stole’ for her arrangent, and indeed, they were from Lighten Chaser’s works.
Well, she thought the song she won with was forged by seven or eight individuals plus her own original draft reworked.
Who knew, in reality, it was all the sa person who modified the original draft for her!
So when Nathalie suddenly brought up the topic without warning, her heart raced, nearly jumping out of her chest.
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