Chapter 8
The doorman at the loft building was built like a tank. He crossed his massive arms as Julius stormed into the lobby.
"Mr. Logan," the doorman rumbled. "Private residence. You are not on the guest list."
"I'm her husband!" Julius shouted, trying to push past.
"Ms. Lawson indicated she is single," the doorman said, deadpan.
Julius's face flushed red. He lunged for the elevator as the doors opened for a tenant. He slipped inside before the doorman could grab him.
He punched the button for the third floor.
Upstairs, Elinor watched the monitor. She pressed the buzzer to unlock her front door.
Let him in.
The elevator opened directly into the loft. Julius stormed out.
"Elinor! You think you can-"
He stopped.
The main wall of the loft was covered in paper. On the left, Chanelle's "award-winning" designs. On the right, Elinor's original sketches from three years ago. Red string connected them, highlighting every stolen line, every copied curve.
It looked like a crime scene board.
Elinor sat in a chair in the center of the room. Harper stood next to her, holding a video camera, recording.
"What is this?" Julius asked, his voice faltering.
Elinor gestured with her chin, and Harper tossed a document at his feet. It landed with a heavy thud.
Cease and Desist. Intellectual Property Theft.
"You're suing Chanelle?" Julius scoffed, picking it up. "With what? Sketches? She has a team. She has the Logan legal department."
Elinor picked up her phone. She pressed play.
A voice filled the room. Chanelle's voice.
"God, Elinor draws these cute little things. It's not like the mute is ever going to build anything. I might as well use them. Who's she going to tell?"
The recording was dated two years ago.
Julius went rigid. He looked at the phone, then at Elinor.
"Where did you get that?" he whispered.
Elinor typed. "Home security backup. You never checked the logs. You were too busy not caring."
Julius ran a hand down his face. He looked at the wall of evidence. He realized the truth instantly. Chanelle was a fraud.
But then, the businessman took over.
"Elinor," he said, his voice dropping to a persuasive purr. "We can handle this internally. If this goes public, the stock will tank. It will humiliate the family."
Elinor looked at him. Disgust curled in her stomach. He knew his mistress was a thief, and his first thought was the stock price.
Harper stepped forward. "Internal? You want to pay her off? Chanelle is the face of your new campaign. This destroys the brand."
"What do you want?" Julius snapped. "Money?"
Elinor stood up. She walked up to him. She held up her phone.
One word.
Divorce.
"You want to leave me that bad?" Julius asked, offended. "Over some drawings?"
Elinor pointed to the door. Her eyes were hard flint.
Her phone buzzed in her hand, the vibration a low growl. The robotic voice spoke again.
"Get out."
Julius threw the papers on the floor. "Fine. Sue her. See if you can beat my lawyers."
He turned and left, the elevator doors closing on his defeated back.
Elinor exhaled, her knees shaking slightly.
Harper hugged her. "You were amazing. We got him on tape admitting he wants to cover it up."
Elinor's phone buzzed.
A message from Chanelle.
I know what you're doing. If you file that lawsuit, I will release your psych evaluation from the kidnapping. The press will love hearing about how 'broken' you really are.
Elinor stared at the screen. The old fear, the cold, dark basement from her childhood, clawed at her throat.
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