Backstage, models crowded between clothing racks while publicists shouted into their phones and tried to pull images from social media. Chloe's scream could still be heard from the changing area. Julian came at me as soon as I stepped through the curtain. Reporters followed with their phone cameras raised, leaving him nowhere private to make the accusation.
“You did this! You poisoned the fabric. This was sabotage!” He pointed at me. “She was jealous. She couldn't stand to see someone else succeed with *my* designs!”
Chloe sat on a crate in Julian's jacket. “She tried to ruin me!”
I set my champagne on a production table and took the folded waiver from my portfolio. I had brought the original rather than a copy. The notary's red stamp and both signatures showed when I opened it, along w
