Caught off guard, Forrest struggled to respond. "Stop twisting my words! You, an imitator, believe you are a match for Pixel Dreamweaver? That's ridiculous!"

Lyndon let out a soft chuckle and shifted comfortably in his seat, entirely composed. "I see. You think I'm beneath you. In that case, how about a friendly challenge?"

Forrest narrowed his eyes. "A challenge? About what?"

"Let's each create a short animated sequence," Lyndon proposed with quiet confidence. "We'll pick a pivotal scene from the script. You design your version, and I'll do mine. We'll be judged on speed and execution. If you win, you take full creative control of the project. But if you lose.. you agree to work under my wife's direction without further complaint. Do you dare?"

At first, Forrest saw no reason to engage someone he considered an unqualified imitator.

But Lyndon's composed challenge stoked his pride—and retreating was not an option.

Forrest sneered. "How amusing. You think I'd shy away from competing with an amateur? I accept. But don't think for a second you'll win."

Lyndon offered a slight, knowing smile. "Then let's get started." He turned to Reggie. "Would you be so kind as to judge the outcome?"

Reggie blinked, still processing how quickly’ the conversation had escalated into a full-blown showdown.

Lyndon, a non-professional, going head-to-head with Forrest, a seasoned designer—it seemed a foregone conclusion.

If Lyndon lost— as Reggie expected-it would be a satisfying blow to the man's pride.

But... what if Lyndon won?

"Mr. Fernandez, I know you're eager to defend Tilda's honor, but have you considered wagering something else?"

Reggie leaned forward with a significant look. "After all, if you lose, Tilda will have to listen to Forrest from now on. Won't she resent you for gambling with her creative freedom?"

Lyndon pivoted toward Tilda, his expression suddenly earnest. "Do you trust me, darling?"

Tilda had been flustered, her palms growing unexpectedly damp.

How had it escalated into a competition so quickly? The challenge hung in the air between them.

After all, Forrest was a professional designer with years of experience and an impressive portfolio.

Although Lyndon had crafted the design she adored, that singular success hardly guaranteed he could outmatch an established professional in the specialized animation field.

Yet, when she met Lyndon's deep, unwavering gaze, something stirred within her—a peculiar certainty transcending logic.

Tilda nodded, squaring her shoulders. "I trust you."

He had whispered to her once, in the quiet darkness of their bedroom, that he possessed many hidden talents waiting to be revealed at the right moment.

Perhaps he would triumph with these mysterious capabilities he'd hinted at but never fully disclosed.

Besides, regardless of the outcome, gratitude swelled in her chest that he had championed her vision when no one else would.