Chapter 6
I barely slept that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Vanessa cutting through my gown.
Then I saw the anonymous messages.
By morning, my anger had become something colder.
I wanted answers.
More importantly, I wanted to protect the career I had worked so hard to build.
At nine, Thomas arranged a meeting with a digital evidence specialist and a representative from Bellamy Atelier.
My mother insisted on accompanying me.
"I won't let you face this alone," she said.
I squeezed her hand.
"Thank you."
The specialist, Mr. Collins, reviewed the security footage from my studio. He also examined the messages and the photographs of my sketches.
"The image metadata may help us establish when these photographs were taken," he explained. "We can also compare the images against files stored on your studio computer."
Thomas nodded.
"Can you determine whether the designs were copied?"
"We can identify similarities and document the evidence. The legal conclusions will depend on the full record."
I appreciated his caution.
For the first time, I wasn't relying on someone else's promise. I was building a case.
By noon, the specialist had found something important.
Several photographs of my sketches had been uploaded from a device connected to a network associated with Vanessa's apartment.
It wasn't conclusive proof that she had sent the anonymous messages.
But it was a lead.
Thomas requested that the relevant records be preserved while the investigation continued.
Then he asked me a question I hadn't expected.
"Has Vanessa ever asked you to help her launch a fashion business?"
I frowned.
"She once said she wanted to start a clothing line. I thought she was joking."
"Did she ever request your designs?"
"She asked to see my sketchbook. I refused to let her take it."
Thomas exchanged a glance with the specialist.
"That may be relevant."
A memory surfaced.
Two months earlier, Vanessa had invited me to dinner and asked whether I would collaborate with her on a luxury clothing brand.
She promised investment money and a share of the profits.
I had declined because she wanted me to surrender control of the designs.
At the time, she called me selfish.
Now I wondered whether she had already been planning something.
My mother stared at the table.
"She told me she was starting a boutique."
I turned toward her.
"What?"
"Vanessa said she had investors. She asked me to help her prepare a presentation."
"Did you see it?"
My mother hesitated.
"She showed me some designs."
My stomach dropped.
"What kind of designs?"
"Black dresses with gold details. She said they were part of her new collection."
The room seemed to tilt.
My gown.
My signature combination of black silk and gold embroidery.
I had developed that aesthetic over years.
Vanessa had seen it in my studio.
"Mom, did she show you the sketches?"
"Yes."
"Did you ask where they came from?"
My mother looked devastated.
"She told me she had hired a designer."
I stood so quickly that my chair scraped against the floor.
"She was using my work."
Thomas raised a hand.
"We need to verify that before making any public claims."
I forced myself to sit down.
He was right.
I couldn't afford to become what Vanessa had accused me of being.
That afternoon, Denise contacted us with another discovery.
A private investor had received a proposal from Vanessa for a clothing collection scheduled to launch within weeks.
The proposal included several designs nearly identical to my missing sketches.
The investor had already transferred an initial payment.
My chest tightened.
"Can we contact the investor?"
"Yes," Thomas replied. "But we must be careful. We need to establish the source of the designs and preserve the contract records."
I stared at the photographs.
Vanessa hadn't simply stolen a sketchbook.
She might have built an entire business plan around my work.
Then my mother remembered something else.
"She asked me to sign a document last month," she whispered.
I turned toward her.
"What document?"
"She said it was a statement confirming that she had been developing her collection for years."
"Did you sign it?"
My mother began crying.
"I didn't understand what it meant. She told me it was just for her investors."
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Thomas gently asked whether she had a copy.
My mother shook her head.
But after several minutes, she remembered saving a photograph of the document on her phone.
When she found it, Thomas examined the page.
His expression became serious.
The document included a statement claiming that Vanessa had created the designs independently.
It also contained my mother's signature.
And beneath that statement was a date that placed the alleged creation of the collection months before I had supposedly begun developing mine.
My mother covered her mouth.
"I didn't know she was lying."
I believed her.
But believing her didn't erase what her signature could do to me.
I took a deep breath.
"We need to find the original records."
May you like
Thomas nodded.
"And we need to find out who helped her prepare this document."
