Chapter 2 - THE PAGE THAT DISAPPEAREDThe missing page was not found in the boutique.
Security searched fitting rooms, waste bins, counters, staff lockers and bags.
Nothing.
Adrian Bell claimed he had left before Claire fell.
Camera footage disagreed.
At 2:26 p.m., Adrian entered through the rear service corridor.
At 2:31, Claire was shoved.
At 2:33, the folder opened.
At 2:34, Adrian passed behind the crowd.
His right hand disappeared briefly below camera level.
At 2:35, he left.
Ethan watched the footage twice.
Then a third time.
“He took it.”
Claire sat inside the private fitting lounge with ice against her cheek.
“We can't prove what was in his hand.”
“You know.”
“I know isn't proof.”
Ethan hated that answer because she was right.
The floor manager entered.
His face looked gray.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Donovan.”
Claire looked at him.
“Were you sorry before you knew my last name?”
He lowered his eyes.
Ethan turned toward him.
“Answer her.”
“I should have intervened.”
“Why didn't you?”
The manager swallowed.
“Ms. Cross is one of our highest-spending clients.”
Claire almost smiled.
There it was.
The actual policy.
Not written.
Still enforced.
“She threatened to close the store.”
“She has influence.”
“Over whom?”
Silence.
Ethan's jaw tightened.
The manager finally admitted Vanessa had demanded employees be reassigned before.
One sales assistant lost weekend shifts after refusing to stay late for her.
Another had been transferred after Vanessa complained about her “attitude.”
Corporate never formally ordered managers to obey Vanessa.
They simply rewarded sales figures so aggressively that protecting her became rational.
Claire looked toward Ethan.
He understood.
Culture did not require a memo.
Sometimes incentives wrote the rules more efficiently.
Then security arrived with Vanessa's phone.
She had surrendered it only after lawyers were called.
One recent message caught Claire's attention.
From Adrian.
If Morgan appears, retrieve anything she carries. Do not create a scene.
Claire read it twice.
“Morgan.”
Ethan looked at her.
“Your maiden name.”
“He knew I was coming.”
“How?”
The booking.
Someone had flagged it.
Claire felt cold.
Vanessa hadn't known Claire was Ethan's wife.
But Adrian knew Claire Morgan had been asking questions.
That explained Vanessa recognizing the folder but not the woman carrying it.
Another message:
The archive issue cannot reach Ethan before launch.
Ethan stopped breathing.
Claire looked at him.
For months Ethan had defended Adrian.
Creative genius.
Trusted executive.
The man who modernized Donovan House.
Now Ethan's name appeared in a message describing him as someone who needed to be kept ignorant.
Claire touched his hand.
He pulled away.
Not from her.
From shame.
“What exactly did you find?” he asked.
Claire opened the folder.
The surviving notes traced back to Ruth's notebooks.
Twenty-three patterns missing from the historic archive.
Seventeen appeared in Vanessa's collection nearly unchanged.
Six more were modified significantly but retained construction solutions unique to early Donovan samples.
Ethan stared.
“You're saying Adrian stole archived designs.”
“Yes.”
“And sold them as Vanessa's.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me this directly?”
Claire's face changed.
“I tried.”
He frowned.
“The archive review.”
“Three times.”
Ethan remembered.
She had asked the board to fund provenance research.
Adrian called it expensive and dangerous.
Board members warned opening attribution questions could expose the company to claims.
Ethan postponed.
Claire said:
“One year.”
He whispered:
“What?”
“I waited one year after you said we'd revisit it.”
He looked down.
Then another message appeared.
Adrian to Vanessa:
The old woman is dead. Her family has no standing if we keep physical originals under company ownership.
Claire's hand tightened.
Ruth.
Old woman.
Dead.
Convenient.
Ethan read silently.
His face changed from anger to disgust.
Then another message.
Vanessa:
I want the shoulder story for interviews. Give me something poetic.
Adrian:
Say ocean light. Nobody fact-checks inspiration.
Claire laughed once.
Bitter.
Ruth's real note read:
Fold shoulder to allow machinist movement without tearing armhole.
Function turned into celebrity poetry.
That night Ethan ordered the entire creative archive sealed.
Too late.
At 10:18 p.m., an alarm triggered.
Smoke.
The archive room.
Security reached it within minutes.
Sprinklers activated.
Adrian was found in a side corridor carrying two archival boxes toward his car.
He claimed he was “saving materials from the fire.”
Except the fire had started after he entered.
One box contained missing inventory tags.
The other contained supplier contracts.
Claire saw photographs from security.
One contract bore a factory name she'd never seen.
Mirae Apparel Manufacturing — Unit 6.
Not on Donovan House's approved supplier registry.
“What's this?” Ethan asked.
Claire stared.
She had seen that stitch code before.
Inside the cream dress.
The copied design was only half the story.
May you like
The clothes themselves were coming from somewhere Donovan House was pretending did not exist.
And Adrian had just risked prison to burn the paperwork connecting them.
Related Stories
