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墨書 Inktalez
"Are you threatening me?" I scoffed, pressing the recording button firmly. On the other end, Chu Qiao seemed oblivious to her own words, continuing to spout threats without restraint.
"Hah, do you think just because you're popular now, you can look down on everyone?" Chu Qiao's sharp voice grated like nails on glass. "We have solid proof of you using AI to write your books. Once that gets out online, let's see how you survive in the literary world!"
Hong Meili couldn't take it anymore and snatched my phone away. "Chu Qiao, you ungrateful wretch! What does it matter how Wen Jing writes her books? She earns her living through her own abilities, which is far better than your shortcuts!"
"You! You old hag, can't you just stay home and enjoy your retirement?"
"Hah, how could I possibly die?" Hong Meili sneered. "I want to live long enough to see you get your comeuppance!"
I took back my phone and said calmly, "Zhang Cheng, Chu Qiao, stop dreaming. I have recorded this entire conversation. If you dare to harass me or Jiajia, I will hand this evidence over to the police."
"You wouldn't dare!" Chu Qiao screamed.
There was a sound of something heavy crashing to the ground on the other end, as if someone had thrown something. Zhang Cheng's trembling voice came through, "Wen Jing, please don’t..."
I hung up and let out a sigh of relief. Hong Meili grasped my hand. "Wen Jing, you did the right thing. People like them aren't worth any sympathy."
The next day, I received a video from an unknown number. In the video, Zhang Cheng was kneeling on the ground, crying uncontrollably while Chu Qiao was kicking and punching him. The background appeared to be their mansion, but the furniture was in disarray, creating a scene of chaos.
"It's all your fault!" Chu Qiao's hysterical shouts echoed in the video. "If it weren't for your insistence on using inferior materials, would we have gotten caught? Now look where we are—our company is doomed and we're about to go to jail! If I had known this would happen, I never would have partnered with a useless coward like you!"
I was about to turn off the video when I suddenly saw a flicker on the screen. It seemed that a little boy was standing in the corner. That was Zhang Cheng and Chu Qiao's son, Zhang Xiaoming. He looked expressionless as he watched his parents fight, his vacant gaze sending chills down my spine.
My phone vibrated, and I received an anonymous text message: "Jia Wenjing, you won. But I won't let you off the hook; just wait and see."
I sneered as I saved the message. When it rains, it pours; I was curious to see who had given Chu Qiao such audacity.
My phone buzzed again; it was a message from Jiajia: "Mom, I'm home from school! I got another little red flower today!"
Looking at my daughter's innocent words, a gentle smile crept onto my face. Let the past be the past; what I needed to protect now was this hard-won happiness.
But just then, a breaking news alert popped up: "Shocking! Renowned author Jian Jia embroiled in AI ghostwriting scandal; publisher issues urgent statement..."
I stared at my phone screen, my heart racing like thunder. That headline, shocking the entire internet, felt like a heavy blow to my chest.
"How could this happen?" I murmured to myself, my fingers trembling as I clicked on the news link.
The article opened with a photo of me, the caption boldly stating: "Renowned author Jian Jia suspected of using AI for writing; authenticity of several bestselling works in question."
My mind went blank with a loud buzz. This couldn't be true! All my works were written by me, word for word—how could they claim it was AI ghostwriting?
"Ding dong," the phone rang again. It was a message from Chen Hao: "Wen Jing, have you seen the news? Don't panic, I've already contacted a lawyer. We'll face this together."
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