The elevator at the end of the restaurant chimed.

Two women stepped out. One carried a slim legal case. The other, older and gray-haired, wore a dark security uniform and held a tablet against her chest.

Victoria’s mouth tightened when she recognized Bellwether’s attorney, Evelyn Shaw.

Evelyn stopped beside Maya and saw the bruise forming beneath the white fabric of her sleeve.

“Who touched you?”

Maya did not look away from Mr. Cole.

“He did.”

The manager’s jaw shifted.

“She was being disruptive.”

“No,” said a voice from behind him.

The busser near the kitchen had stepped forward. He could not have been older than twenty. His hands shook so badly that two water spots leaped from the tray he was carrying.

“She didn’t do anything. Ms. Voss threw the money. Mr. Cole grabbed her.”

Mr. Cole turned on him.

“Daniel, go back to work.”

Daniel flinched, but he remained where he was.

“No.”

The word was barely audible.

Then the bartender placed his towel on the counter.

“She isn’t the first person he’s grabbed.”

A server beside the windows slowly lifted her hand.

“Or fired for refusing to apologize to a guest.”

Another voice came from the kitchen.

“He makes us clock out before private events and keeps us working.”

The room filled with the faint sounds of people breathing, chairs shifting, phones adjusting. Mr. Cole looked from face to face as if he were discovering that the people he managed had possessed voices all along.

Victoria snapped her fingers toward Evelyn.

“This has nothing to do with my launch. Get the authorization signed.”

Evelyn opened her case but did not remove a contract. Instead, she set a small recorder on the table.

“Ms. Voss, Bellwether’s review uncovered discrepancies in your production accounts. We scheduled tonight’s meeting so you could explain them before the funds were released.”

“I’ve explained every invoice.”

“You explained companies,” Maya said. “We could not find the people.”

For the first time, Victoria’s certainty cracked.

Maya opened a folder on her phone. Scanned invoices appeared, followed by photographs of workrooms, time sheets, and pages of designs covered in handwritten notes.

Victoria reached for the phone.

Maya pulled it back.

“These sketches were submitted under your name. The original files were created eleven months earlier by three members of your pattern team.”

“They work for me. Their work belongs to the label.”

“Not under their contracts.”

Victoria’s laugh came too quickly.

“This is fashion. Everyone contributes.”

“Then why did you remove their names?”

No answer came.

Upstairs, through the ceiling, the muted rhythm of rehearsal music began. A bass note pulsed through the chandeliers. Models, buyers, photographers, and employees were waiting in the ballroom for Victoria to unveil a collection built around the idea of female freedom.

Maya glanced at the clock.

Eight forty-seven.

“If I refuse the release,” she said, “the launch stops. Your buyers walk away. The accounts freeze while the board investigates.”

Victoria’s eyes hardened.

“And two hundred innocent people lose tonight’s work. Models. Dressers. Caterers. Drivers. You want to destroy them because I hurt your feelings?”

The words landed where Victoria intended them to.

Maya’s thumb rested above the refusal button. She knew the names on the payroll. She knew which vendors had borrowed money to complete the show. She knew a cancellation would punish people who had never sat at this table.

Victoria saw the hesitation.

Her shoulders loosened.

“There she is,” she murmured. “The philanthropist who can’t bear blood on her hands.”

Maya lowered the phone slightly.

Victoria leaned closer.

“Sign it. Then we can discuss whatever grievance your little employees invented.”

The service door opened.

A woman in a black sewing apron stood there, clutching a garment bag to her chest. Loose threads clung to her sleeves. Her face was pale, but she looked directly at Victoria.

Victoria went still.

Maya whispered, “Lila.”

Lila Moreno crossed the dining room slowly. With every step, Victoria’s hand tightened around her wineglass.

“You were told to stay upstairs,” Victoria said.

“I was told a lot of things.”

Lila placed the garment bag over the back of an empty chair. Then she reached inside her apron and removed a narrow velvet box.

She opened it.

A diamond necklace lay within it, identical in design to the one glittering at Victoria’s throat.

Victoria touched her own necklace instinctively.

Lila looked at Maya.

“The invoices weren’t only fake.”

Her voice broke. She pressed her lips together until she could continue.

“Victoria ordered duplicate stones and billed both sets to the collection budget. One set was returned for cash through a private dealer. She did it with the earrings too.”

Victoria rose so suddenly that the table shuddered.

“She’s lying.”

Lila stepped back, but she did not retreat.