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.

The man who had telephoned Gloria was named Patrick Seel.

Constance found him in four days.

He was not a lawyer and he was not Dessa's publicist.

He was a freelance fixer — someone who worked in the margins of the industry managing inconvenient situations for people who could pay to have them managed.

He had no formal connection to Dessa on paper.

He had a connection to her management company, which had a connection to one of the three sponsors Marcus Webb had mentioned to Carla during the recess.

The chain was not long.

It was simply designed to look longer than it was.

"He approached Gloria by phone," Constance told Nia, sitting across from her in the studio.

"He suggested her recollection of the date was uncertain.

He implied that sworn statements made under confusion could expose the person who made them to legal consequence."

Nia set down the fabric swatch she had been holding.

"He threatened her with legal action if she didn't recant."

"Politely," Constance said.

"He was very polite about it."

"Gloria kept her statement."

"Gloria kept her statement and recorded the call." Constance's expression was dry and very slightly satisfied.

"She had a recording app on her phone from an incident in her building last year.

She turned it on within the first thirty seconds."

Nia closed her eyes briefly.

"She didn't mention that when she called Theo," she said.

"She wanted to make sure it was actually useful before she raised it." Constance placed a document on the table.

"It's useful.

The recording is clear.

Patrick Seel identifies himself by name within the first two minutes.

He asks Gloria directly whether she would be willing to 'revisit the precision of her statement.'"

Nia looked at the document without touching it.

"Witness tampering," she said.

"At minimum.

Depending on how the legal review proceeds, potentially more." Constance sat back.

"I've submitted the recording to the Calloway Foundation's legal counsel.

I've also sent a copy to our attorney." A pause.

"And to the ethics board, alongside Priya's documentation about the recess conversation."

Nia looked at her.

"You're building a wall around all of it."

"I'm making sure that every piece of this connects to every other piece," Constance said.

"Dessa's pattern — the theft, the public statement, the witness contact — it all points in one direction.

The more of it we can show together, the harder it becomes to call any individual piece of it ambiguous."

Theo came in from the back of the studio carrying two cups of coffee.

He handed one to Constance and one to Nia and sat on the edge of the cutting table.

"There's something else," he said.

Both women looked at him.

"I've been going back through the studio security footage from the week the drive disappeared." He turned his laptop to face them.

"There's a gap.

Eighteen minutes on the second day of the window.

The footage just stops and then restarts."

"A gap," Nia said.

"Building security says it was a camera malfunction.

I pulled the maintenance logs." He pointed at the screen.

"There's no record of a maintenance call for that camera on that day.

Or the day before.

Or the day after."

Constance leaned forward.

"Who has access to the building's camera system?" she said.

"Building management," Theo said.

"And anyone who has the administrative login for the security panel."

"Which is kept where?"

"In the building manager's office." He paused.

"The building manager's name is Vincent Pratt.

He's been in that role for six years." Another pause.

"Dessa Wells sponsored a fashion prize at his daughter's design school last spring.

I found the announcement on the school's website."

The room was quiet.

Nia looked at the footage gap on Theo's screen.

Eighteen minutes.

Long enough to enter a studio, locate a specific drive, and leave.

"How good is this connection?" she said.

"The sponsorship and Pratt."

"It's not proof of anything," Theo said honestly.

"It's a connection.

A real one."

"It's another thread," Constance said.

She picked up her pen and wrote something.

"And threads have a way of becoming ropes."

Nia stood.

She walked to the window that looked out over the street below — the same window she had stood at for years, sketching in her head, measuring light, thinking through problems that existed only in fabric and form.

She thought about Dessa putting on that gown in a dressing room somewhere, smoothing the silk panels, turning to look at herself in a full-length mirror.

She thought about what it must feel like to wear something you hadn't built — to know, in some private place that never entirely goes quiet, that every seam had been someone else's decision.

She turned back to the room.

"I want all of it," she said.

"Every thread.

I want it documented, connected, and in front of people who can act on it." She looked at Constance.

"How long?"

"The formal legal review?

Six to eight weeks before anything official moves.

The ethics board process runs parallel." Constance held her gaze.

"But Nia — the shape of this is already clear.

The more they push back, the clearer it becomes."

"Then let them push," Nia said.

Her phone was on the table.