Chapter 4: The Man Who Finally Told the Truth
"I did.""
Martin Hale's voice echoed through the fashion hall.
For a moment, nobody moved.
The cameras remained pointed at him. The judges stood behind their table. Celeste looked as if someone had pulled the floor out from beneath her.
Richard Monroe was the first to react.
"Martin, sit down.""
Martin didn't move.
Richard stepped closer, his jaw tightening.
"I said sit down.""
Martin looked at him.
"No.""
That single word seemed to surprise everyone, including Martin himself.
Richard's face darkened.
"Do you have any idea what you're doing?""
"Yes," Martin answered.
"For once, I do.""
Margaret Ellis raised her microphone.
"Mr. Hale, you just stated that you authorized the removal of Ms. Carter's entry. Are you prepared to explain that statement?""
Martin swallowed.
"Yes.""
Richard shook his head.
"This is ridiculous. He's under enormous pressure. We should suspend the ceremony and address this privately.""
Evelyn Brooks stood from the front row.
"Privately? That's exactly how this happened in the first place.""
Applause broke out.
Richard turned toward her.
"Ms. Brooks, I would strongly recommend that you stop interfering.""
Evelyn didn't sit down.
"I would strongly recommend that you stop stealing from people who don't have your last name.""
The audience reacted with a mixture of gasps and applause.
I stood near the runway, feeling as though I were watching a room full of people finally wake up.
But Martin had something else to say.
He walked toward the judges' table and placed his tablet on it.
"I received instructions from Richard Monroe eleven days before the showcase.""
Richard laughed bitterly.
"That's a lie.""
Martin opened a document.
"At first, I was told to arrange an additional inspection of Nia's gown. Then I was instructed to transfer her original garment to a secure production room.""
I stepped forward.
"Why?""
Martin looked at me.
"Because Celeste wanted it.""
"Why did you give it to her?""
He lowered his eyes.
"Because Richard promised me a promotion and a partnership in a new production company.""
The room erupted.
I stared at him.
"So you sold my work for a promotion?""
Martin's face tightened.
"I didn't understand how far they intended to take it.""
I laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
Because I couldn't believe he had just said that.
"You didn't understand? You watched someone remove my dress. You replaced it with a counterfeit.
You forged my withdrawal. What exactly did you think was happening?""
Martin had no answer.
Richard moved toward him.
"You're making a terrible mistake, Martin. Remember the agreement we signed.""
Martin turned.
"That's why I'm speaking now.""
He tapped the tablet.
A recording began playing through the hall's sound system.
Richard's voice filled the room.
"Once Celeste wins, the ownership question becomes irrelevant. Nobody is going to challenge a winning Monroe design.""
Then Celeste's voice.
"What about the hidden lettering?""
Richard answered immediately.
"Remove whatever you can. If something remains, we'll claim it was part of the lighting demonstration.""
My stomach turned.
The recording continued.
Martin's voice appeared.
"And Nia?""
Richard laughed.
"She's an unknown designer. Give her a small settlement. If she refuses, make sure she understands what happens to people who cause trouble.""
The recording ended.
Nobody spoke.
Then the audience erupted.
I looked at Celeste.
She was shaking her head.
"That's not the whole conversation!""
Margaret raised her hand.
"Ms. Monroe, please remain silent.""
Celeste stepped toward her.
"You don't understand. My father was trying to protect the company.""
"By stealing another designer's work?""
"That's not what happened!""
I looked at her.
"Then tell us what happened.""
She turned toward me.
For a moment, I thought she might apologize.
Instead, she pointed at me.
"You have no idea what I had to do to get here!""
I stared at her.
"What did you have to do? Take my dress?""
Celeste's eyes filled with tears.
"My father has spent my entire life telling me I wasn't good enough. Every collection had to be perfect. Every presentation had to outperform the previous one. If I failed, he reminded me how much money he had invested in me.""
I felt no sympathy.
Not after what she had done.
"So you decided to make me fail instead?""
Celeste looked away.
"I didn't think it would go this far.""
I shook my head.
"You knew exactly how far it would go. You knew I would lose my place in the competition. You knew I would stand backstage wondering whether I had somehow lost my own work.""
She wiped her cheek.
"I was desperate.""
"So was I.""
My voice trembled.
"I was desperate to make something beautiful enough that people would finally see me. I worked until my hands bled. My mother gave up weekends to help me.
I used money I didn't have to buy fabric. And when you saw the finished dress, you didn't see a person. You saw an opportunity.""
Celeste didn't respond.
Richard suddenly grabbed Martin's tablet.
"That's enough!""
A security officer stepped between them.
"Sir, please step back.""
Richard pointed at the judges.
"This event is funded by my family. You cannot publicly humiliate me over an unverified recording.""
Evelyn laughed.
"Unverified?""
She held up her flash drive.
"I have the loading corridor footage, the production transfer logs, and the original garment inventory. Would you like us to play those too?""
Richard went pale.
Margaret turned to the technical director.
"Please secure all relevant evidence. No documents are to be deleted or modified.""
Two security officers approached Richard.
"Mr. Monroe, we'd like you to accompany us.""
He stared at them.
"Do you know who I am?""
One officer answered calmly.
"Yes, sir. That's why we're asking you to cooperate.""
The audience applauded.
Richard looked toward Celeste.
"Don't say another word.""
Then he was escorted toward the side exit.
Celeste remained on the stage.
For the first time, she looked completely alone.
Margaret approached me.
"Ms. Carter, I apologize.""
I looked at her.
"For what?""
"For allowing this situation to happen under our supervision. We failed to protect your entry.""
I swallowed.
"I want my dress returned.""
"Of course.""
"And I want my original submission restored.""
Margaret nodded.
"That can be arranged.""
I looked toward the gown.
Vanessa was still standing near the runway, holding the fabric away from her body as though she were afraid to touch it.
She looked at me.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
I walked toward her.
"Did you know?""
Her eyes filled.
"Celeste told me she had purchased the design rights. She said the original designer had withdrawn.""
I studied her face.
"Did you ever ask to see the paperwork?""
She looked down.
"No.""
I sighed.
"Then next time, ask.""
She nodded.
"I will.""
The technical director approached with a garment bag.
"We recovered the original gown from the private dressing suite.""
My breath caught.
He unzipped the bag.
There it was.
My pale aqua-silver gown.
The jeweled collar.
The intricate back.
The tiny signature.
I touched the fabric.
For a moment, the noise of the room disappeared.
I remembered sitting at my mother's kitchen table, sewing sequins until two in the morning.
I remembered the first time the collar finally held its shape.
I remembered thinking it might be the best thing I had ever made.
Then I noticed something.
A small tear near the inside seam.
My fingers stopped.
"Who did this?""
The technical director leaned closer.
"Probably happened during transport.""
I examined the fabric.
No.
It wasn't a transport tear.
Someone had cut through the inner lining.
And beneath the damaged section, I saw a thin transparent envelope.
I carefully pulled it free.
Inside was a folded photograph.
It showed my original design sketch beside a handwritten note.
The note contained four words.
*THE FIRST ONE WASN'T MINE.*
I stared at it.
Then I turned the photograph over.
On the back was a date.
Six months before I had ever met Celeste Monroe.
May you like
And beneath the date was a name I recognized.
My mother's.
