Cheryl stared at the screen, the evidence undeniable. It wasn’t just circumstantial anymore; it was a digital fingerprint. 

Joyce had deliberately, maliciously, sabotaged her work, her reputation, her very livelihood. The anger that had been simmering beneath the surface now erupted, hot and fierce.

“She didn’t just want to win, Dennis,” Cheryl whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of rage and profound hurt. “She wanted to destroy me. To make me disappear, just like she tried to make Louis disappear.”

Dennis placed a comforting hand on her arm. “She underestimated you, Cheryl. And she underestimated Louis’s capacity to see through her, eventually.”

The betrayal cut deep. Cheryl had always believed in the purity of artistic collaboration, in the shared pursuit of beauty. 

Joyce had twisted that belief into something ugly and manipulative. But amidst the anger, a new resolve hardened within her. She wouldn’t be a victim. She wouldn’t let Joyce win.

“This isn’t just about my project anymore,” Cheryl declared, her eyes blazing with a newfound determination. “This is about protecting Louis, protecting the integrity of our work, and protecting myself. She can’t be allowed to get away with this.”

She looked at Dennis, a silent gratitude passing between them. He had been her anchor, her steadfast star in a chaotic nebula. 

Now, with the truth laid bare, Cheryl felt a surge of power. She had the evidence. 

She had the resolve. And she knew exactly what she had to do next. The gala was approaching, and Joyce’s grand illusion was about to unravel.