Chapter 3: The Name Beneath the Name
“What does it say?” Avery asked.
The businesswoman lowered the document.
“The AVERY trademark was transferred six months ago to C.
Vale Holdings.”
Avery turned toward the manager.
His name badge read CONRAD VALE.
“You told me that company belonged to your investors,” the businesswoman said.
“It does,” Conrad replied.
“I manage their interests.”
The assistant shook her head.
“There are no other investors, Ms.
Celeste.
I checked the state filings.
Conrad owns every share.”
Celeste’s fingers tightened around the page.
“Naomi, are you certain?”
“I printed the registration myself.”
Conrad reached for it.
Naomi pulled it against her chest.
“That document is confidential,” he said.
“You had no authority to access it.”
“You used my office password,” Celeste said.
“I used company access to protect your launch.”
Avery pushed the sealed envelope across the table.
“Open that.”
Conrad blocked Celeste’s hand.
“Don’t indulge her.”
“Move,” Celeste said.
For the first time, Conrad obeyed.
Celeste broke the seal and removed a handwriting report, three dated sketches, and a copy of the disputed contract.
“The signature was digitally copied,” Avery said.
“The pressure marks repeat in exactly the same places.
A real signature never does that.”
Conrad gave a short laugh.
“A waitress paid someone to write a report.
How convincing.”
The voice on the phone cut in.
“My name is Graham Holt.
I’m Avery’s attorney, and the examiner is prepared to testify.”
Several diners raised their phones.
Conrad noticed and pointed toward the door.
“Recording guests violates restaurant policy.”
An older man at the nearest table stood.
“Then perhaps you shouldn’t conduct fraud beside the dessert cart.”
Conrad’s smile disappeared.
Celeste placed the documents side by side.
“You brought me the contract.”
“I brought you what Avery’s representative approved.”
“I have no representative,” Avery said.
“You did when the agreement was signed.”
“Name them.”
Conrad looked at Celeste instead.
“We should speak privately.”
“No,” Celeste replied.
“You humiliated her publicly.
You can answer publicly.”
Avery opened her bag and removed a small black sketchbook.
“Every design in your launch began here.
My mother and I drew the first collection together.”
Celeste stared at the faded initials on the cover.
“L.W.”
“Lillian Ward,” Avery said.
“She taught me to sew.”
Conrad folded his arms.
“And Lillian Ward authorized the archive transfer.”
Avery stopped breathing for a beat.
“My mother couldn’t have authorized anything six months ago.”
Conrad’s eyes shifted toward the kitchen.
Avery stepped closer.
“She passed away eight years ago.”
Naomi covered her mouth.
Celeste looked from the contract to Conrad.
“You used her mother’s name?” Celeste whispered.
“I used the name attached to the archive,” Conrad said.
“That is not the same thing.”
Avery’s hand shook over the sketchbook.
“Show me the authorization.”
Conrad reached into his jacket, then paused when Naomi’s phone lit up.
“I found it,” she said.
“There’s a scanned identity card attached to the filing.”
She turned the screen toward Avery.
The photograph showed a gray-haired woman wearing a silver rose brooch.
Avery caught the edge of the table.
“That brooch belonged to my mother.”
“Then perhaps your family sold more than you knew,” Conrad said.
Naomi enlarged the photograph.
A date was printed beneath it—three weeks earlier.
Avery stared at the woman’s face and whispered, “That isn’t my mother.”
The kitchen door swung open behind Conrad.
May you like
A woman’s voice said, “No, Avery.
It’s me.”
