Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO OWNED THE BLUEPRINTS
The next morning, I met my attorney, Naomi Price, at her office downtown.
Naomi was forty-two, precise, and possessed of a calm that made even angry men lower their voices.
She had warned me not to turn my birthday party into a legal confrontation.
I had told her I wouldn't disclose anything that hadn't already been documented.
Technically, I had kept my promise.
Mostly.
She looked at me across her desk.
“I saw the video.”
I sighed.
“Of course you did.”
“Someone posted it.”
“Of course they did.”
She folded her hands.
“Are you all right?”
I considered lying.
Then shook my head.
“No.”
Her expression softened.
“Good. That's an honest answer.”
I looked down.
“I thought I'd feel victorious.”
“And?”
“I feel sick.”
Naomi nodded.
“That's normal.”
She opened a folder.
“Now we protect what you've built.”
The corporate structure was more complicated than Hudson had ever understood.
Before our marriage, I had inherited a modest sum from my grandmother.
When Hudson's first business failed, I used that money and additional personal savings to create a holding company called Juniper House Design Holdings.
Juniper House owned the controlling interest in Vale Atelier.
I had deliberately separated ownership from day-to-day management because Hudson wanted to be the public face of the company while I preferred working in design and operations.
It had seemed practical.
It had also created a dangerous illusion.
Hudson began treating management authority as ownership.
Then he began treating my silence as permission.
Naomi tapped a document.
“Hudson's employment agreement contains provisions regarding conflicts of interest, confidential information, and unauthorized transfers of company property.”
I nodded.
“He signed it.”
“Yes.”
“Does that mean we can remove him?”
“Not automatically. The board must follow the company's governing documents and applicable law.”
I exhaled.
“Fine.”
She studied me.
“Serena, we need to distinguish between what you suspect and what we can prove.”
I nodded again.
“That's why I brought these.”
I placed three notebooks on her desk.
They were old.
Worn.
Covered in sketches, measurements, supplier names, and production notes.
My original design notebooks.
Naomi opened the first.
Inside was the drawing that had launched Vale Atelier.
A curved oak chair with a woven back.
The Marigold.
Hudson had once called it too simple.
It had become our best-selling product.
Naomi turned the pages.
Then looked at me.
“These are important.”
I smiled faintly.
“I know.”
She closed the notebook carefully.
“And Serena?”
“Yes?”
May you like
“Don't let anyone convince you that creating something is less valuable than selling it.”
For the first time since my birthday, I smiled without forcing it.
