Chapter 1 - THE FLASH DRIVE
Vanessa’s eyes followed my hand into my purse.
For the first time that night, she looked afraid.
Not embarrassed.
Not angry.
Afraid.
Dominic noticed.
“What is that?”
I pulled out the flash drive.
“Something I should have used a long time ago.”
Vanessa immediately stepped away from him.
“Nora, whatever you think you found—”
“I didn’t find anything.”
I held up the drive.
“I made it.”
Her face tightened.
Dominic looked between us.
“What are you talking about?”
I almost laughed.
The man had just slapped me beneath a chandelier in front of two hundred guests, yet somehow the possibility of a corporate problem finally had his full attention.
I pointed toward the wedding gown displayed behind them.
“That dress.”
Dominic followed my finger.
“What about it?”
“It’s mine.”
Vanessa laughed too quickly.
“You haven’t designed professionally in years.”
“I didn’t say I designed it this year.”
I opened the event booklet and turned to the page featuring the gown.
Creative Director: Vanessa Moretti.
My stomach still turned seeing her name beneath something I had drawn in our bedroom four years earlier.
“I have the original file,” I said. “Creation date. Revision history. Hand sketches. Photographs. An email where I sent it to Dominic.”
Vanessa looked at my husband.
He said nothing.
That silence was wrong.
I knew Dominic.
When falsely accused, he attacked.
When surprised, he demanded proof.
When cornered, he became very still.
He was very still now.
My pulse changed.
“You knew.”
“Nora.”
“You knew this was mine.”
His jaw tightened.
“Not here.”
That was enough.
The ballroom seemed to disappear.
I could still taste blood from my lip.
But suddenly the slap wasn’t the worst betrayal of the evening.
“How long?”
“Let’s go somewhere private.”
“No.”
Several guests had begun watching again.
Good.
For five years, everything painful in our marriage happened behind closed doors so Dominic could remain flawless in public.
Not this time.
Vanessa whispered:
“She gave up designing.”
I turned toward her.
“That does not make my work yours.”
“You never registered it.”
“I don’t need your permission to own what I created.”
Dominic stepped closer.
“Nora, stop.”
I looked at him.
“Did you give her my files?”
His eyes shifted.
Barely.
But I saw it.
My chest became hollow.
“Dominic.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
There it was.
The sentence people use right before explaining something exactly like that.
I shook my head.
“You had access to my laptop.”
“We were married.”
“Were?”
His expression changed.
I had not planned the word.
Apparently my mouth understood before the rest of me did.
Vanessa reached toward Dominic.
“Don’t let her turn this into—”
I lifted the flash drive.
“Touch him again and I send everything to every fashion reporter in this room.”
She froze.
Dominic’s face hardened.
“Don’t threaten my company.”
I stared at him.
“Your company?”
“Yes.”
“Not our marriage?”
Silence.
That was the moment it truly ended.
Not when his hand touched my face.
Not when Vanessa lied.
Not when I saw my design beneath her name.
When Dominic instinctively protected Caruso Design before he protected me.
I slid the flash drive back into my purse.
Then turned toward the doors.
“Nora.”
I kept walking.
He followed.
“What are you going to do?”
I stopped without facing him.
“What you taught me.”
“What does that mean?”
I finally looked back.
“Protect what’s mine.”
Vanessa’s voice came sharply from behind him.
“Dominic.”
He turned.
She was staring at her phone.
Her face had gone white.
“What?”
She showed him the screen.
Then looked at me.
“You already sent something.”
I frowned.
“No.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“You did.”
Dominic took her phone.
A message had arrived from Caruso Design’s legal counsel.
URGENT: EXTERNAL COPYRIGHT CLAIM FILED AGAINST THREE WINTER COLLECTION DESIGNS.
Dominic stared at me.
“I haven’t filed anything.”
Then my own phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One message.
I know Vanessa stole your work.
I filed the preservation notice before they could destroy the records.
My pulse quickened.
Another message arrived.
And Nora—
May you like
Dominic didn’t give her the first sketch.
Someone else did.
