Chapter 3: The Harrington Family Made a Dangerous Promise
The next morning, Brielle's name appeared on a fashion gossip account.
The headline read:
*BELLAMY HEIRESS EXPECTED TO STEAL THE SHOW AT THE MIDNIGHT MASQUERADE.*
The photograph showed her wearing my gown.
The caption claimed that the dress had been specially commissioned by an anonymous European designer for Brielle's appearance at the gala.
I read it twice.
Then I opened the comments.
Who is the designer?
That dress is incredible.
Brielle is going to be the queen of the night.
I heard she's performing with the opening cast.
I scrolled farther.
Someone had posted:
Apparently, she's been personally selected by Asteria.
I put my phone down.
For three years, I had worked to keep my identity private.
Not because I was ashamed.
Because I wanted the work to speak for itself.
Now my stepsister was using my designs to build a public image.
And Vanessa was helping her.
At 9:30 a.m., I received a call from Marcus.
“Have you seen the article?””
“Yes.””
“It's getting attention.””
“I noticed.””
“There's something else.””
“What?””
“The photographer claims Vanessa authorized the photographs.””
I closed my eyes.
“Where were they taken?””
“Inside the mansion.””
“Then we have our answer.””
Marcus sighed.
“Camille, the gala's legal team is concerned. If the media believes Brielle is associated with Asteria, it could damage the event's credibility.””
“Then correct the record.””
“Publicly?””
“Yes.””
He hesitated.
“Are you ready for that?””
I looked at the photograph on my screen.
My gown.
My work.
My name nowhere.
“Yes.””
At eleven o'clock, I walked into the Bellamy mansion's main library.
Vanessa was seated behind my father's old desk, speaking on the phone.
Brielle was on the sofa, surrounded by shopping bags.
I placed my phone on the desk.
“Take the article down.””
Vanessa glanced at it.
“What article?””
“The one claiming Brielle designed the gown.””
Brielle laughed.
“Don't be ridiculous. Nobody said I designed it.””
“You told the photographer it was commissioned for you.””
“Because I'm wearing it.””
“That doesn't make it yours.””
Vanessa ended her call.
“Camille, this is becoming exhausting.””
I opened the article.
“There's also a claim that Brielle has been personally selected by Asteria.””
Brielle crossed her legs.
“Well, I have been.””
I looked at her.
“Who told you that?””
“Mother spoke to the organizers.””
“No, she didn't.””
Vanessa stood.
“You have no idea who I've spoken to.””
I took a breath.
“Then show me the confirmation.””
Brielle smiled.
“Why would I show you anything?””
“Because you're making a public claim about an event you know nothing about.””
Vanessa walked around the desk.
“Listen carefully. My daughter has a chance to become internationally recognized. I'm not going to let your jealousy destroy that.””
I looked directly at her.
“Then tell her to stop using my work.””
Vanessa's face turned cold.
“Your work?””
She laughed.
“Camille, you sit in that little garage all day, playing with fabric and drawings. You don't have a fashion house. You don't have a company. You don't even have a proper job.””
I said nothing.
She continued.
“Brielle has connections. She has social standing. She has a future.””
“And I don't?””
Vanessa tilted her head.
“You have a roof over your head. That's more than enough.””
Brielle picked up a shopping bag.
“Mother, can we go? I need to find shoes for tomorrow.””
Vanessa nodded.
Then she turned to me.
“Remove yourself from this situation. You're embarrassing yourself.””
I picked up my phone.
“Fine.””
I walked toward the door.
Behind me, Brielle laughed.
“Maybe you should come tomorrow night and watch me receive my crown.””
I stopped.
Then I turned around.
“Wear comfortable shoes.””
She frowned.
“Why?””
“Because the night might be longer than you expect.””
At two o'clock, I arrived at the gala headquarters.
A security team was waiting in the lobby.
Marcus greeted me with a folder.
“We have a problem.””
“Another one?””
He handed me a printed document.
It was a sponsorship agreement between Harrington Development and the Bellamy family.
I read the first page.
Then the second.
My expression hardened.
“Who prepared this?””
“Richard Harrington's legal department.””
“What is this clause?””
Marcus pointed to a paragraph.
The agreement promised the Harrington family exclusive rights to the gala's opening performance footage, including the right to promote any participating designer or performer as an official partner.
I read it again.
“And Vanessa signed this?””
“Yesterday.””
“Without authorization?””
“Apparently.””
I looked at the signature.
Vanessa Bennett.
The document included a photograph of the butterfly gown as an example of the event's exclusive creative assets.
My stomach tightened.
“Marcus, this isn't just an unauthorized sponsorship agreement.””
“I know.””
“They're trying to claim rights to the production.””
“That's what our legal team believes.””
I closed the folder.
“Call our attorney.””
“He's already on his way.””
A few minutes later, Daniel Foster entered the conference room.
He was the gala's senior legal counsel, a silver-haired man who had handled the organization's contracts for more than a decade.
He placed his briefcase on the table.
“Ms. Bennett, I reviewed the agreement.””
“And?””
“It is invalid.””
“Completely?””
“Every clause involving the gala's intellectual property is unenforceable. The Harrington family cannot grant rights they don't own.””
He opened another folder.
“However, there is a separate issue.””
“What issue?””
“The gown.””
He showed me the original registration certificate.
“Your personal property was removed without consent. The garment was photographed and publicly represented as belonging to someone else. We have grounds to demand its immediate return.””
I looked at the document.
“Can we freeze its authentication?””
“Already done.””
“What happens when someone tries to scan it?””
Daniel smiled slightly.
“The system will identify it as stolen property and notify the event's security team.””
I leaned back.
“Good.””
Marcus folded his arms.
“What about the Harringtons?””
I looked at the signed agreement.
“Let them arrive.””
Daniel studied me.
“You're certain?””
“Yes.””
“Then we need to prepare a formal notice.””
I nodded.
“Prepare two.””
“Two?””
“One for Vanessa. One for Richard Harrington.””
At six o'clock, Alexander called.
I was reviewing the gala's lighting sequence when his name appeared on my screen.
“Hello?””
“Camille, are you free?””
“I'm working.””
“That's not a no.””
I smiled.
“What do you need?””
“To warn you.””
My fingers stopped moving.
“About what?””
“My father.””
I stood.
“What happened?””
“He found out that the sponsorship agreement wasn't approved by the gala's board. He's furious.””
“That's understandable.””
“It's worse than that. Vanessa told him that Brielle has been promised the opening performance.””
I closed my eyes.
“Of course she did.””
“Camille, I don't think she understands how serious this is.””
“Neither does your father, apparently.””
There was silence.
Then Alexander said something unexpected.
“I know who you are.””
My heart missed a beat.
“What?””
“I've known for a while.””
I looked toward the glass wall.
“How?””
“Last year, I attended a private presentation in London. There was a collection displayed under the name Asteria.””
I said nothing.
“I recognized the butterfly motif. Your father used to keep your early sketches in his office.””
I swallowed.
“You remember those?””
“I remember everything.””
For a moment, I was sixteen again, sitting on the floor of my father's study, drawing dresses while Alexander watched from the opposite chair.
He had told me once that I would design something the entire world would want to see.
I hadn't believed him.
“Why didn't you say anything?”” I asked.
“Because you clearly wanted to keep it private.””
I looked down at my hand.
“Thank you.””
He paused.
“Are you going to reveal yourself tomorrow?””
“Yes.””
“Then I want to be there.””
“You'll be there with your family.””
“Not necessarily.””
Before I could answer, a notification appeared on my computer.
The gala's security system had detected an attempted costume authentication.
I opened the alert.
The location was listed as:
*Bellamy Estate — Private Dressing Suite.*
The scan had been attempted at 5:58 p.m.
And the user account was registered under Brielle Bennett.
I stared at the screen.
“Alexander, I have to go.””
“What happened?””
“Someone just tried to register my stolen gown under their own name.””
He went quiet.
Then he said:
“Camille, please tell me you're going to stop being polite.””
I looked at the alert.
A second notification appeared.
*UNAUTHORIZED OWNERSHIP TRANSFER ATTEMPT DETECTED.*
I smiled.
“I think I've been polite long enough.””
At 7:12 p.m., the system generated another report.
This time, the attempted transfer had included a forged signature.
Not mine.
My father's.
I stared at the screen.
The digital signature belonged to Daniel Bennett, who had died three years earlier.
And whoever had submitted it had attached a document claiming that he had gifted the gown to Brielle before his death.
I opened the scanned page.
At the bottom was a handwritten sentence.
To my beloved granddaughter, Brielle, with love.
My father had never called Brielle his granddaughter.
He had never signed anything like that.
And he had never given away my designs.
I zoomed in on the signature.
Then I recognized something else.
The document was dated six months after his death.
I called Daniel Foster immediately.
“Daniel, I need you to look at something.””
“What is it?””
I sent him the file.
He opened it.
For several seconds, he didn't speak.
Then he said:
“Camille, this isn't just a forged ownership certificate.””
“What is it?””
“It's a forged legal document that could have serious consequences.””
I stared at the screen.
My family hadn't simply stolen my gown.
May you like
They had used my dead father's name to do it.
And tomorrow night, I intended to find out who had helped them.
