Chapter 1: The Dress They Stole

“Take off your name from the designer list, Evelyn. Brianna is wearing your gown tonight, and you should be grateful you’re allowed to watch.””

Vanessa said it while standing beneath the white dressing-room lights, holding the most beautiful thing I had ever created.

My crystal gown.

Three hundred hours of hand-stitching. Eleven thousand tiny crystals. Silver embroidery so delicate that one careless pull could ruin an entire evening’s work.

And now, the woman who had spent months pretending to mentor me was handing it to someone else.

I stared at the dress in her arms.

“Vanessa,” I whispered, “you can’t be serious.””

She glanced at Brianna Cole, who stood in front of the full-length mirror wearing a silk robe and a smile that made my stomach turn.

“Oh, I’m completely serious,” Vanessa replied.

“The show needs someone who knows how to command a room. You’re talented with a needle, Evelyn. That doesn’t mean you belong on a runway.””

Brianna laughed softly.

“Please don’t make this awkward,” she said.

“I know how much the dress means to you.””

She reached out and brushed her fingers over the crystals.

“Honestly, I had no idea you were capable of making something this beautiful.””

The words were sweet.

Her expression wasn’t.

I had worked for the prestigious Bellamy Atelier for three years. I had started as an unpaid intern, sewing buttons onto sample garments in a basement that smelled of steam, hot irons, and old fabric. I stayed late when everyone else went home. I learned how to cut silk without wasting an inch, how to embroider by candlelight when the studio’s electricity failed, and how to make inexpensive fabric look like a million dollars.

My dream had always been to debut an original design at the annual New York Grand Couture Showcase.

Tonight was supposed to be that night.

The crystal gown had been my entry into the showcase’s emerging designer competition. It was inspired by my grandmother, who had raised me after my mother died. She used to tell me that beauty wasn’t about being noticed.

It was about leaving something behind that people couldn’t forget.

Every crystal on that gown represented a moment when I had almost given up but hadn’t.

I had stitched the final bead at 3:17 a.m. four nights ago, my fingers trembling from exhaustion.

And Vanessa had stolen it before sunrise.

“Where is the original design submission?”” I asked.

Vanessa’s eyebrows rose.

“What submission?””

“The one I filed under my name. The sketches, the fabric receipts, the production records. You know exactly what I’m talking about.””

Her smile sharpened.

“Evelyn, darling, you assisted the atelier in creating a collection piece. That’s all. The company owns the work.””

“I designed it.””

“You contributed.””

“I designed every inch of it!””

My voice echoed across the dressing room.

Two assistants stopped arranging jewelry. A makeup artist looked up from her brushes. Brianna’s smile faltered for half a second.

Vanessa stepped closer.

“Lower your voice,” she said.

“You are embarrassing yourself.””

Then she lifted the gown toward Brianna.

“Arms up, sweetheart.””

Brianna obeyed.

The dress slid over her shoulders, its fitted bodice catching the light. Silver vines curled around her waist, and thousands of crystals shimmered against the midnight-blue fabric. The skirt fell in layers, each one cut to create the illusion of liquid starlight.

It looked perfect on her.

That was the cruelest part.

I had designed it to fit the human body in motion, to make the wearer look as though she were walking through a galaxy. Brianna stood before the mirror, turning left and right while the assistants adjusted the hem.

“Wow,” she murmured.

“I look incredible.””

“You look like the face of Bellamy Atelier,” Vanessa declared.

Brianna tilted her head toward me.

“Do you think the neckline needs more sparkle?””

I didn’t answer.

She touched the crystal at her collarbone.

“I suppose some people have the hands for this kind of work, even if they don’t have the presence to wear it.””

“That’s enough,” I said.

Vanessa clapped once.

“Security.””

A broad-shouldered guard appeared in the doorway.

“Please escort Ms. Hart to the staff seating area. She is no longer needed backstage.””

For a moment, I couldn’t move.

I had expected competition. I had expected Vanessa to favor Brianna, her goddaughter and the atelier’s favorite rising star. I had even suspected they might try to reduce my credit.

But I hadn’t expected to be thrown out of my own debut.

“Vanessa,” I said quietly, “if you send me away, you’ll regret it.””

She leaned close enough for me to smell her expensive perfume.

“Look at her,” she whispered, nodding toward Brianna.

“Nobody will ever believe it was yours.””

Then she straightened and spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear.