They Stole My Wedding I Returned To Paris

Chapter 4

I was discharged 3 days later.

I didn't go home. I went straight to the office.

The design department had been noisy, but the moment I pushed open the doors, the room fell silent.

After a deathly pause, the whispers began, each needling into my ears.

"How does she still have the nerve to show her face here?"

"You never really know a person. She even stole Vanessa's idea. She's a disgrace to the entire industry."

The interns I had once trained were now the ones driving knives into my heart.

I gave a bitter laugh to myself and opened the trending page.

#SiennaHartPlagiarized was the number-one topic, stamped with a glaring red "VIRAL" tag.

I called Damian and demanded, "What the hell is going on with that trending topic?"

His cold voice came through the phone.

"You refused to listen, Sienna. Consider this a lesson."

The next second, Whitmore Group posted an official statement.

Whitmore Group: We have always respected original work and maintained zero tolerance for intellectual property violations. We have opened an internal investigation into the employee involved.

With that one statement, the company branded me guilty for the entire world to see.

My fingers tightened around my phone until my knuckles went white.

I had just lost my baby and was being torn apart online. Instead of helping me, Damian had given the mob the final shove it needed to send me over the edge.

A crushing weight settled over my chest.

A quiet laugh escaped me.

It was soft, but edged with the cold resolve of someone who had nothing left to lose.

"You really think I'm out of options, Damian?"

I ended the call.

Without hesitating, I started a livestream on my personal account.

The moment the camera came on, the viewer count began climbing at a dizzying speed.

Comments raced across the screen in an endless flood of abuse.

I neither disabled them nor looked away.

I stared directly into the camera. My first words were, "My name is Sienna Hart. I started this livestream to address three things.

"First, 4 years ago, I was invited to join Aurora Verne, an independent jewelry house in Bellavere. I design under the name Selene."

The comments exploded.

The screen filled with question marks, exclamation points, and virtual screams.

Aurora Verne was the independent house whose pieces were nearly impossible to obtain in Bellavere's couture circles, and Selene was the mysterious designer who had never shown her face.

I continued.

"Second, Vanessa Hart's Nightfall is a copy of my First Light. Every piece I create contains an authentication mark that only I know how to draw..."

I was reaching for the evidence when the screen went black. Someone had cut the livestream.

The door crashed open. Damian stormed in with several security guards, his face livid.

Vanessa followed close behind, a smug smile curling at the corner of her mouth.

"Give it up, Sienna. This isn't going to work. Be good and hand over the evidence."

Damian's voice was cold.

"I never thought you could be this stubborn, Sienna!"

I stared at them in shock.

I couldn't believe they dared to threaten me in broad daylight.

I clutched the documents and backed away until there was nowhere left. My heart sank a little further with every step.

The last glimmer of hope went out.

'Am I really going to lose? My career. My designs... They are going to destroy everything.'

I closed my eyes in despair.

Just then, police sirens sounded outside, followed by steady footsteps.

"I dare you lay a hand on my designer!"