Chapter 14 - The Art of Scars
Matteo and Celeste arrived twenty minutes later to find me sitting on the floor beside the ruined finale gown. Sophie was curled in the corner of the office, weeping into her hands, while my private security held her under observation until the authorities could arrive discreetly.
"I called the police," Celeste breathed, trembling with fury as she knelt beside the shredded ivory bodice. "Victoria Vance has crossed every legal and moral line. This is domestic terror on an atelier."
"The police will file a report, Celeste," Matteo said darkly, pacing the room like a caged panther. "And Victoria's lawyers will tie it up in court for five years while the media reports that Claire failed to deliver her debut show. That’s Victoria’s goal: humiliate Claire before Julian’s appeal hearing."
I didn't speak. I picked up the slashed panels of fabric.
The cut went straight down the center of the bodice, splitting the intricate gold bullion embroidery that had taken four master embroiderers three weeks to complete. It looked mutilated. Broken.
Just like I had looked the morning the photos of Julian and Chloe hit the Milan tabloids.
"Claire?" Matteo softened his voice, coming to kneel beside me on the floor. He placed his large, warm hand over mine. "We have twenty auxiliary looks. We can cut the finale gown and end the show with the emerald velvet coat. It will still be a triumph."
"No," I whispered.
I looked up at him, and the despair that had threatened to suffocate me vanished, replaced by an electric, blinding clarity.
"A gown without scars is a lie, Matteo," I said, standing up. "Julian and his family built their lives on concealing their ugliness under immaculate polish. Maison Laurent will not hide its wounds."
Celeste blinked. "Claire, what are you thinking?"
"Bring me the Japanese gold leaf," I commanded, my voice ringing with authority through the dimly lit room. "And call the master lacemaker from Lyon. We aren't going to hide the slashes. We are going to mend them with *Kintsugi*—with twenty-four-karat spun gold thread and black obsidian beads."
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Celeste’s eyes widened, and then a slow, fierce grin spread across her lined face. "You’re going to turn their sabotage into the headline."
"I am going to make their attack the most expensive design in Paris," I said. "Matteo, lock the doors. Nobody leaves this building until the curtain rises."
