If you plagiarize, I will refundthe network.

I deactivated my million-follower Instagram account.

Everyone went nuts. Theories flew around, mostly about my account being hacked. But Olivia, my biggest rival in the beauty influencer space, actually DMed me: “Are you insane? Why would you throw this away?”

I ignored the drama and booked a one-way ticket to Yosemite. I needed to breathe.

See, in my past life, Olivia and I were putting out identical content. People called me a copycat, a parasite, worse. They sent hate mail, even showed up at my apartment. I posted proof of my creative process, my timelines, everything. They called it fake. The constant online harassment spiraled into deep depression. I ended up… well, let’s just say I didn’t survive.

Then, I woke up. It was the morning I was supposed to post the video that started it all.

My finger hovered over the “Share” button. This was the exact moment my life went sideways. A jolt went through me. I yanked my hand back like I’d touched a hot stove.

My chest heaved. The room spun. It was real. I was back.

After a few deep breaths, I saved the video to drafts and immediately looked up Olivia’s Insta.

There it was. Her latest post. It was unlike anything she’d done before. Olivia’s usual content was…meh. Low-budget, poorly edited, a couple hundred likes, tops. This new video, though? Posted half an hour ago, already tens of thousands of likes. The comments were exploding.

“This look is killer! Straight out of a fantasy movie.”“How is she so gorgeous?!”“Olivia, marry me!”

The dark, dramatic lighting, the intricate makeup, the camera angles, the music, even the captions… it was all identical to the video sitting in my drafts folder. If I hadn’t gotten the inspiration from a British period drama, hadn't spent weeks crafting the script and perfecting the look myself, I’d have questioned my own sanity.

But there it was. Olivia’s video. Posted first. Viral.

In my past life, this video had ruined me. I’d been so excited to share it, expecting praise and recognition. Instead, I was accused of plagiarism. Everyone was tagging Olivia, claiming she was the original.

I’d tried to fight back, showing my scripts, my behind-the-scenes footage. No one believed me. Olivia, of course, produced her “evidence,” conveniently dated even earlier than mine.

“She totally planned this. Trying to sabotage Olivia.”“Support the original creator! Boycott the thief!”“Jenna, get off the internet!”

Even Olivia’s management team and her agency released statements denying any plagiarism, claiming the entire project was their original creation. I was just a small-time influencer, working alone, with no one to corroborate my story.

Then my boyfriend, Ethan, publicly dumped me, claiming I'd stolen content from other creators before, that I was a serial plagiarist. That was the final nail in the coffin.

The hate comments intensified, the DMs became unbearable. My creativity dried up, brands dropped me, and I was broke. I started self-harming. The diagnosis came quickly: severe de...