After stealing Nia's design and claiming she had nothing left, a rival proudly wore the champagne gown on the runway, only to watch Nia unveil a breathtaking creation that silenced the entire audience.

Nia didn't go to the reception.

Theo had suggested it, gently, twice.

The other designers were gathering in the hall downstairs — champagne and careful conversations and the particular electricity of an evening that had become something much larger than anyone had prepared for.

Her name would be spoken at every cluster of people.

She knew that.

She sat in a small greenroom two corridors from the main stage, still in her competition gown, with a paper cup of tea that had gone cold.

Constance came in and closed the door.

"Dessa's publicist has already issued a statement," she said.

Nia looked up.

"How long did that take?"

"Forty minutes." Constance sat across from her.

"It frames the evening as a misunderstanding.

It says Dessa was working from mood board inspiration that may have included Nia's publicly shared sketches."

"I shared one sketch," Nia said.

"On my studio's social media.

Fourteen months ago.

The bodice line.

Nothing else."

"I know."

"One sketch does not explain twelve pages of technical construction drawings."

"I know that too." Constance set her phone on the table between them, face up.

"The statement has already been picked up by two industry publications.

One of them is running a piece framing this as 'competing claims' rather than theft."

Nia stared at the phone.

"Competing claims."

"Dessa has resources.

She has a publicist, a PR firm, and a lawyer who clearly had this draft ready before the evening ended." Constance folded her hands.

"This is not over.

I want you to understand that before the adrenaline wears off and you feel like it is."

Nia set her tea down.

"What does she gain from fighting it?" she said.

"The evidence is—"

"The evidence is strong," Constance said.

"It may also take eighteen months to resolve through any formal legal process.

And in the meantime, there are publications willing to print 'competing claims.' There are buyers who will wait for certainty before choosing sides.

There are institutions that will quietly distance themselves from both of you rather than take a position."

Nia was quiet.

"She's trying to muddy it," she said.

"She's trying to make it complicated enough that the truth becomes one opinion among several." Constance looked at her steadily.

"It's a strategy.

It's not a good one, and it won't ultimately work.

But it will be exhausting."

Theo knocked and came in without waiting.

His face was different than it had been on stage — tighter, something unresolved in it.

"What happened?" Nia said immediately.

"Gloria called," he said.

"The security desk woman."

Nia straightened.

"Someone reached out to her tonight.

After the event.

Asked her to reconsider the statement.

Said her memory of the date might be wrong.

That maybe she had confused two different visitors."

The room was very quiet.

"Did they threaten her?" Constance asked.

"She said it didn't feel like a threat.

It felt like a conversation." Theo's voice was carefully neutral.

"She said the man who called her was very polite."

Nia stood up.

"Is she all right?"

"She's shaken.

She's also angry." He paused.

"She wanted you to know immediately."

Constance was already on her phone.

"I'm calling her now.

If someone attempted to influence a witness, that changes the legal landscape considerably." She stood and walked toward the door, the phone at her ear, and then stopped with her hand on the frame.

She turned back to Nia.

"This is what I meant," she said.

"Dessa doesn't lose quietly.

She never has."

She stepped out.

Theo looked at Nia.

"What do you want to do?"

Nia picked up her tea.

Set it back down.

It was too cold to drink and she hadn't wanted it anyway.

"I want to know who made that call," she said.

"Constance will find out."