As the comments kept flooding in, practically demanding evidence, I calmly held up the documents I’d prepared.
“This,” I said, “is a handwriting authentication report from a certified forensics lab, expedited jus today. It confirms two things: first, that the handwriting on this draft matches all my othe competition entries. And second, this design was created five years ago.”
That alone would’ve been enough to clear my name. But I wasn’t done.
Back when I still lived with the Leightons, my parents never allowed me to outshine Isolde. Ic grown used to sketching in secret–quiet rebellion. But I always left myself a safeguard.
I grabbed a bowl of water, dipped the corner of the design paper into it and waited.
Seconds later, like magic, a hidden signature emerged–an elaborate, calligraphic “A.” My secre watermark. My personal mark ever since I first started entering competitions.
The chat went wild:
“Are all artists this paranoid?”
“The whistleblower probably didn’t even know there was a hidden mark in the design he submitted. He must be freaking out right now, scared it’s all gonna blow back on him.”
“That’s actually brilliant – a genius way to protect your work. I’d totally do that if I had a work.”
“Knew it! Our Andrea never disappoints!”
“I trashed her hard the other day… just ordered Aurum Noire’s entire fall and winter collection to make up for it.”
‘One set’s like half a million. You’re rich. RICH. Adopt me, Mommy!”
The mood shifted fast. The comment section quickly devolved into jokes about sugar mommies, while the few lingering trolls were drowned out by loyal supporters.
finally allowed myself a breath. The tide had turned.
Before logging off, I kept my tone steady and firm. “To those who smeared my name–prepare tc neet me in court. Legal action has already been initiated.”
The reaction was instant–waves of praise, calling me fearless, bold. Sales at Aurum Noire skyrocketed. In just two days, the stock loss from the scandal had completely rebounded. Based on the trend, things were only going up from here.
Damian, of course, seized the moment. “Never doubted you a second. I’m getting a feeling that You might be my lucky charm.”
rolled my eyes but played along, “Go, team work.”
He perched casually on the edge of my desk, eyes dancing with mischief. “Now… about that
romise you made me.”
instinctively leaned back a bit, feeling like I’d just walked into a trap. “Depends. What do you lave in mind?”
Damian didn’t answer right away, just smiled that infuriatingly charming smile of his.
quickly added, “Before that… let’s just set some ground rules: nothing dangerous, illegal, or
5:39 pm DDDS
life–threatening.”
He chuckled. “Relax, sweetheart. I’d never risk damaging my star designer.”
Ever since I’d beaten Katia, he’d stopped bothering to hide his feelings. The random sweet talk
had become almost routine.
“So, what exactly is this favor you want me to do?” I asked, raising a brow.
He tapped his chin theatrically. “Haven’t decided yet. I’ll let you know when I do.”
I let out a relieved breath. Dodged that bullet–for now.
The office grew quiet and I finally shifted gears. “How’s the lawsuit prep against Sable coming along?”
Damian grinned like a salesman closing a big deal. “The Whitlock legal team is at your service.”
And they were legendary in the industry–never lost a case. Honestly, it felt like a bit of overkill for just one person, but since my reputation was now tied to Aurum Noire, I wasn’t about to say
по.
So on a perfectly normal Monday, I officially filed a lawsuit against Sable.
5:39 pm
