Chapter 3 - THE VIDEO SABINE WANTED DESTROYED
The video was forty-seven seconds long.
It was enough to destroy the story Sabine had told the fashion industry for four years.
Priya connected her tablet to a ballroom monitor after the hotel's security director secured permission to preserve the original recording.
A younger Sabine appeared inside a workshop.
Beside her stood Anna Ror.
Anna held a cream-colored gown against a mannequin.
Her hands moved carefully over the reversed beadwork.
Then she spoke.
"If the beads face the opposite direction, the light travels backward when the model moves."
Billy covered her mouth.
Her sister's voice.
For four years, she'd replayed old voicemails just to remember what Anna sounded like.
Now Anna was alive on the screen.
Laughing.
Explaining.
Dreaming.
Sabine appeared beside her.
"Brilliant," she said. "Nobody's ever seen anything like it."
Anna smiled.
"Then we should make sure Mom gets credit too."
The recording ended.
Silence swallowed the ballroom.
Sabine's face had lost its color.
Rafe slowly turned.
"You told me you developed that technique while studying in Paris."
Sabine opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
Billy's voice was quiet.
"Anna trusted her."
Rafe looked toward Billy.
"Why?"
"Sabine promised to fund our family's first collection."
Billy swallowed.
"Anna designed twelve dresses. Mom handled the beadwork. I helped with alterations."
"And Sabine?"
"She handled investors."
Billy looked at the stage.
"Then the contracts changed."
Sabine stepped forward.
"That footage is stolen intellectual property!"
Priya raised an eyebrow.
"It's from an independently archived fashion workshop documentary. We have records identifying the original crew."
Rafe turned toward his attorney.
"Preserve everything. I want an independent review of the ownership claims."
Sabine grabbed his sleeve.
"You're supposed to be on my side!"
He looked down at her hand.
"I'm supposed to care whether something is true."
For the first time, Sabine looked frightened.
Then Billy noticed something strange.
Gideon Puit, the hotel's banquet manager, had disappeared.
He was no longer near the kitchen entrance.
Neither was the man overseeing the waste-processing truck.
Billy's pulse quickened.
For nine months, she'd watched those trucks arrive.
Food.
Linen.
Waste.
Different companies.
The same hidden ownership network.
And the truck she'd been waiting for was scheduled to leave in seventeen minutes.
"Mr. Santangelo?"
Rafe turned.
"What?"
"Your hotel's loading dock."
He frowned.
"What about it?"
Billy took a breath.
"Someone has been moving sealed garment boxes through the waste-processing service."
Rafe went still.
"How do you know?"
"I've watched them for nine months."
Then she revealed the detail she hadn't told anyone.
"The boxes contain original designer labels."
Rafe stared.
"And whose names are on those labels?"
Billy looked toward Sabine.
"Anna Ror."
Then Priya's camera operator rushed into the room.
"The loading dock is empty."
Billy's stomach dropped.
He continued.
May you like
"The waste truck left early."
And according to the security log, Gideon Puit had personally ordered its departure.
