Chapter 4 - THE PRESENTATION RICHARD HAD ALREADY SEEN
Richard walked into the conference room without waiting for permission.
Natalie followed.
“Richard, please.”
I had never heard her use that tone.
Soft.
Conciliatory.
Almost frightened.
He opened the presentation binder.
There they were.
My silhouettes.
Rendered professionally.
Assigned style numbers.
Brooke Mercer listed as lead designer.
Natalie Vale listed as creative director.
My name appeared nowhere.
Richard turned one page.
Then another.
I watched his jaw tighten.
Three weeks earlier, he had mentioned seeing a collection he thought I would like.
“I can’t show you,” he had joked. “Confidential.”
Now he knew why the sketches had felt familiar.
He had seen my work before without realizing it was mine.
“How much of this collection is Emily’s?” he asked.
Brooke stepped into the room.
“None.”
I looked at her.
She actually said it.
None.
Richard turned toward me.
“Emily?”
“Six pieces are directly based on my original drawings.”
“Based on?”
“Copied.”
Natalie closed the door.
“We need to handle this carefully.”
Richard laughed once.
Not loudly.
That was worse.
“You dragged my daughter across a floor and now you’d like careful?”
“I did not drag her.”
“You watched.”
Natalie’s mouth closed.
Brooke stepped closer to the binder.
“We have contracts. Work-for-hire language. Emily signed employee policies.”
I nodded.
“I did.”
Brooke looked relieved.
Then I continued.
“But I didn’t sign away pre-existing work.”
Her relief disappeared.
My mother had taught me that too.
Read the contract.
I had.
The employment agreement covered designs created within assigned studio projects using company resources.
The six sketches had started in a personal portfolio I developed before Brooke ever requested concepts for the resort line.
Three had been drawn before I even joined Vale & Hart.
I had modified them later.
That distinction mattered.
Richard looked at me.
“You documented that?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Cloud archive. Personal email. My attorney has copies.”
Natalie stared at me.
“Your attorney?”
I almost smiled.
They thought I had done nothing.
That was another consequence of treating quiet people as stupid.
I contacted an intellectual-property attorney two weeks earlier after Brooke threatened to fire me.
I had not filed anything.
I wanted advice.
But I preserved everything.
Natalie turned toward Richard.
“We can fix this.”
He closed the binder.
“No.”
“Richard—”
“You were scheduled to sign a twelve-million-dollar distribution commitment with my company next Monday.”
The room went silent.
I didn’t know the number.
Apparently neither did Brooke.
Richard continued.
“That agreement was based partly on this collection.”
Natalie’s face drained.
“Don’t make a business decision because of a family disagreement.”
He stared at her.
“This is a business decision.”
Then he lifted my sketch.
“You presented work you may not own.”
Brooke whispered:
“Natalie…”
Richard looked at both of them.
“And before anyone calls this a misunderstanding, I suggest you explain why Emily’s original initials were removed from the archived design files.”
I froze.
I hadn’t known that.
May you like
Natalie had.
Her face told me immediately.
