Chapter 8
The new name shocked my father.
It was Robert Ellis.
Dad's longtime business adviser.
A man who had worked with him for almost fifteen years.
Robert wasn't simply an employee.
He'd attended family birthdays.
He'd helped organize charity events.
He'd visited our home after my mother died.
And he'd always treated me kindly.
When I was younger, he called me Little Artist.
He used to ask about my drawings.
He told Dad I would become famous someday.
Now investigators had found evidence that Robert accessed internal designer submission files before Diane's company received them.
I stared at Rachel.
"Why would Robert do that?"
She answered carefully.
"We don't know yet."
Dad looked devastated.
He leaned back in his chair.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then he whispered, "I trusted him."
My throat tightened.
I looked at Dad.
His expression reminded me of the night Mom died.
That same helplessness.
That same disbelief.
I reached for his hand.
"We'll find out what happened."
He nodded.
But I could see how much it hurt.
The investigation continued.
Company records showed that Robert had participated in discussions about expanding Sterling Diamonds' private-label collections.
He'd recommended Whitmore Creative Holdings as a consulting partner.
He'd approved certain payments.
And he'd received copies of designer submission reports.
At first, those actions could have been part of legitimate business oversight.
But then the forensic team discovered something else.
Several documents had been downloaded shortly before their ownership labels were changed.
The downloads were associated with Robert's credentials.
Rachel explained that system credentials didn't automatically prove who used them.
But the records were important.
Investigators interviewed Robert.
He denied wrongdoing.
He claimed Diane had asked him to review the files.
He said he believed she had valid licensing agreements.
Then the independent committee located payment records connecting Robert to a separate consulting arrangement.
My stomach tightened.
"How much?"
Rachel looked toward Dad.
"Approximately seventy-five thousand dollars over eighteen months."
Dad closed his eyes.
I stared at the table.
Another person.
Another hidden agreement.
Another betrayal.
But this time, I didn't feel powerless.
I knew the process.
Preserve evidence.
Verify records.
Avoid assumptions.
And let the truth emerge.
Over the following months, the investigation became more formal.
Regulators and law enforcement reviewed potential fraudulent documents and financial misconduct.
Civil claims concerning the disputed designs proceeded separately.
Diane and Robert retained attorneys.
The independent committee continued examining the licensing records.
Monarch Jewelers cooperated with the review.
And affected designers were given opportunities to submit evidence.
I spent much of that time rebuilding my portfolio.
Samuel helped me refine my original collection.
Tasha became a close friend.
We talked almost every evening.
She encouraged me when I felt discouraged.
I helped her prepare manufacturing specifications.
Together, we began imagining a small studio where independent designers could work without surrendering control over their creations.
One afternoon, we sat at a coffee shop surrounded by sketches.
Tasha looked at me.
"Have you ever thought about opening a shared workshop?"
I smiled.
"Every day."
She laughed.
"Then why haven't you?"
I looked down.
"Money."
She raised an eyebrow.
"You're Arthur Bennett's daughter."
I laughed.
"Exactly."
She looked confused.
I continued.
"I want to build something that belongs to us."
Tasha smiled.
"Then let's make a plan."
We began with a budget.
Equipment.
Rent.
Insurance.
Materials.
Marketing.
Legal agreements.
Every detail.
I used my savings.
Tasha contributed hers.
We explored a small-business loan.
And Dad offered advice without demanding control.
For the first time, I felt like I was building a future instead of defending the past.
Then Rachel called with important news.
The independent review had reached findings concerning several disputed designs.
The committee concluded that multiple submission files had been improperly handled.
It identified failures in the licensing approval process.
And it found evidence that certain creator names had been removed without authorization.
I felt tears gathering.
"What about Midnight Promise?"
Rachel smiled gently.
"The records strongly support your authorship."
I closed my eyes.
For months, I'd waited to hear those words.
Then she continued.
"Monarch Jewelers has agreed not to use the disputed designs without resolving ownership and licensing rights."
I exhaled.
For the first time, my mother's pendant felt like mine again.
But the investigation wasn't finished.
Rachel explained that civil remedies and any criminal accountability would proceed through separate channels.
I understood.
Justice wasn't one dramatic confrontation.
It was a process.
Sometimes slow.
Sometimes painful.
But necessary.
That evening, Dad invited me to dinner.
He cooked my mother's favorite chicken recipe.
I laughed when I saw the kitchen.
"Dad, you remembered?"
He smiled.
"Of course."
We sat together.
For a while, we talked about my studio plans.
Then he looked at me.
"Nia, I have something to tell you."
My heart tightened.
"What?"
He took a breath.
"I've decided to step away from day-to-day oversight of Sterling Diamonds while the governance reforms are implemented."
I stared at him.
"Why?"
"Because the company needs independent leadership and stronger accountability."
My throat tightened.
"Dad, you built this business."
He nodded.
"And I want it to survive for the right reasons."
I looked down.
He continued.
"Nia, I thought success meant growing bigger."
His voice softened.
"Now I understand that growth means nothing if you stop protecting the people who trust you."
My eyes filled.
I reached for his hand.
"I'm proud of you."
He smiled sadly.
"Thank you."
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from Rachel.
Diane's attorney had contacted the company.
Diane was offering to resolve the civil claims.
I read the message carefully.
Then called Rachel.
"What is she offering?"
Rachel hesitated.
"Financial compensation and the surrender of disputed licensing rights."
I swallowed.
"In exchange for what?"
"A broad release of certain civil claims."
I looked toward Dad.
Then asked the question that mattered most.
"Would accepting it prevent us from cooperating with investigators?"
Rachel paused.
"That's one of the terms we would need to examine carefully."
May you like
I took a slow breath.
"Then I'm not agreeing to anything that hides the truth."
