My Extraordinary Wife

Charlotte had thrown the manuscript into the trash can, and it somehow ended up in Michael’s hands.

What had once been something that she disliked ended up being someone else’s treasure.

Charlotte really couldn’t understand it.

Nonplussed, Michael said, “Miss, I think there should be a limit to your jokes. This manuscript is clearly mine, but I will let the matter slide if you apologize to me. However, I’m starting to get a little angry because you keep testing my limits. How can you so deliberately twist the truth?”

“Mr. Underwood, I-I am not as good with my words as you are. Nonetheless, the manuscript belongs to me.” Charlotte’s timid expression became unusually resolute. She knew that if she backed down and really took the blame for the plagiarism, she would have to carry a blackened name for the rest of her life.

I refuse to concede! I did not plagiarize!

Charlotte refused to have her sullied reputation affect her godmother’s family. She did not want them to become a laughingstock for having a goddaughter who was a plagiarist. That was absolutely unacceptable for her.

At that thought, Charlotte felt as if her entire body was suddenly filled with strength and courage.

“Mr. Underwood, that is my handwriting in that manuscript. I composed that musical composition. We can compare our handwriting. I firmly believe it doesn’t matter how old that manuscript is because no matter how many years have passed, a person’s handwriting won’t just change like that. That is unless they are trying to imitate someone else on purpose.”

more powerful it became. Her gaze held a hint

clear eyes. Her tone was not aggressive, but her steady gaze caused people to unable to behave rudely. “Mr. Underwood, I propose we

flash of panic in Michael’s expression did not escape Ashlyn’s sharp eyes. The latter smiled as she stood up. “Mr. Underwood,

and ordered, “Prepare some pencils and paper. Mr. Underwood and

expected Ashlyn to act so

he was a little dazed when the staff member placed the pencil and paper before

already picked up the pencil and was

pencil in his hands, but he

everyone’s gazes were fixed

he pretended to be composed

were also starting to form on his elegant face and

she spoke, the more her voice resonated and the more powerful it became. Her gaze held a hint

recall the handwriting on the manuscript in an attempt to replicate

declared, “I’m done!” She had finished writing the tune and passed

her sheet, prompting the panel of judges and the audience

looks exactly the