Chapter 8

The document unfolded. The first page was Belated's original copyright registration certificate.

The second page was my studio's participation contract with the International Bridal Design Week.

The third page was the breach of contract penalty clause.

"This dress is the finale showpiece for my show next week. It's already been submitted and registered as an exhibitor. Unauthorized public photography causing premature exposure of the work starts at a penalty of half a million dollars."

I looked at him, enunciating each word.

"Mr. Van Ness, will you be covering the compensation on behalf of Ms. Moore? Or on behalf of Van Ness Tech?"

Christian's face finally changed color.

Bianca's assistant panicked.

"But Mr. Van Ness said this dress belongs to his wife. He said he could make that call—"

"Exactly."

I nodded, then turned my gaze to Christian.

"His wife is me. Not him."

The moment that sentence landed, no one around us dared to keep pretending to be busy anymore.

Christian stared at me. For the first time, there was a look of genuine unfamiliarity in his eyes.

"When did you register the copyright?"

"The first day I started drafting the pattern."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

I looked at him.

"Did you ever ask?"

He was speechless.

Suddenly, Bianca pressed a hand to her chest and stumbled back a step, as if she was about to faint.

"Claire, I'm so sorry. I really didn't know this was so serious. I just loved it so much. And Chris said you wouldn't mind..."

I cut her off.

"I do mind."

She froze.

I took a step forward. My voice wasn't loud, but it was clear enough for everyone present to hear.

"Bianca, I mind that you knew perfectly well it was my wedding dress and still stood outside my fitting room waiting to take it."

"I mind that you use the phrase 'just drop it' to force other people to fight your battles for you."

"I mind that you had your assistant alter my design and then claimed it was just for the shoot's aesthetic."

"And I especially mind that you are standing inside something that belongs to me, painting yourself as the victim."

Bianca's tears fell.

But this time, Christian didn't immediately leap to defend her.

Because the producer was already on the phone with the legal department.

The photographer muttered quietly, "If this is really a registered showpiece, we can't use it."

Bianca whipped her head toward Christian.

"Chris..."

Christian glanced at her, then looked back at me.

"Claire, let her finish the shoot first. I'll cover whatever losses you're claiming."

A wave of exhaustion washed over me.

Not the painful, heart-wrenching kind of exhaustion.

The kind where you've finally seen someone's true nature fully rot in front of you, and even disappointment feels like too much effort.

I said, "Christian, you can't afford to cover it."

His gaze hardened.

"You think I, Christian Van Ness, can't afford to cover one wedding dress?"

I didn't answer.

A man's clear, sharp voice sounded from the doorway.

"Mr. Van Ness truly can't afford to cover it."

Everyone turned.

Grant stood at the entrance, his suit jacket draped over one arm, two lawyers behind him.

He looked like he had just come from a board meeting. His expression was unhurried, composed.

But the moment he spoke, the entire atmosphere in the studio shifted.

"This 'Belated' is the finale showpiece for Claire's studio's contracted showcase at the 'Above the Clouds' Bridal Design Week. It is also the main visual piece for Ashford Group's global campaign next quarter."

He walked over and stood beside me, his gaze sweeping over the dress on Bianca's body.

"Premature exposure. Unauthorized alterations. Filched for a shoot."

Grant smiled, just slightly.

"Mr. Van Ness, why don't you prepare a seven-figure settlement first? Then we can talk about whether you can afford it or not."