The Design She Left Out

Chapter 4 Surrendering the Throne

Rumors about my exit filled social media. People expected a lawsuit or an interview. I gave them a resignation statement instead.

The fire had produced shaky phone videos, anonymous board leaks and several versions of the breakup. By the next morning, reporters were waiting outside Hale Group for me to accuse Derrick in public.

From Mia's bunker, I praised Hale Group, welcomed new creative voices and announced that I was stepping down.

Every sentence sounded suitable for an investor update. I gave Derrick no threat he could answer and Chloe no rival she needed to fear.

I ended with the part Chloe would remember:

*“A true artist knows when to leave the stage. After seeing the genius in Chloe Lane's latest work, I realize my time as Chief Designer has reached its natural end. I am thrilled to pass the torch. The future of Hale is Chloe.”*

Mia read over my shoulder. "You just handed her the whole company."

"Only in public."

I posted it.

Messages poured in. Chloe's arrived within minutes.

The public replies praised my professionalism and treated my endorsement as proof that Chloe deserved the title. Hale Group's account reposted my statement before I had finished saving a copy.

*“So glad you finally know your place. You were only ever the warm-up act, sis. Thanks for the throne. It’s comfy.”*

I saved a screenshot and sent it to my lawyer.

Her message placed the theft, the new title and her view of my resignation in one neat record. My lawyer answered with a check mark and told me to save the original notification data.

Derrick called next. "I saw your statement. Mature. Professional. I knew you'd put the company first. Once the IPO settles, we'll find you a quiet role behind the scenes."

He spoke as though my office, title and future were still his to distribute.

Derrick expected me to return after the IPO, repair whatever Chloe could not finish and remain grateful for a private role. Nothing in his voice suggested that he had read the patent notice twice.

"Of course, Derrick. Anything for the company."

He hung up pleased with himself.

I closed my eyes and started the design Chloe would carry onto the red carpet. I named it the "Deep Sea Nebula."

The gown used ten pounds of experimental silk woven with microfiber optics. Thousands of crushed diamonds covered the bust. The skirt swept across the floor under its own internal light.

I planned the optics so the light moved through the folds instead of sitting on the surface. From a distance, the skirt would appear to carry its own night sky. Every press photograph would sell the same illusion.

It would photograph beautifully. It would also weigh far too much for an ordinary dress.

A hidden internal corset and rigid boning should have spread that load across the wearer's waist. I pictured the completed gown without either one.

Without the corset, gravity would pull the full weight through the neckline. A trained tailor would see the missing support before cutting the first length of silk.

Two decorative shoulder straps held everything up. I gave them ordinary silk thread.

They looked delicate enough to win praise and sturdy enough while the gown rested on a mannequin. I made no hidden reinforcement where the straps met the bodice.

The gown could stand on a mannequin and survive a careful walk. Repeated turns beneath hot red-carpet lights would stretch the thread until the straps gave way.

Chloe would be asked to pose, wave and show the back. The more attention she received, the more often she would turn. I did not need to choose the exact second; the weight would do that.

I held every finished detail in my mind. Chloe had copied the purple eyes without asking why. Now I waited to see whether she would question two thin straps.