Chapter 3 - Stripping the SheathVanessa Crowe had spent three years building her status as Manhattan’s premier rising designer, largely funded by the money Adrian had stolen from my personal trust fund under the guise of "business expansion loans."
By 2:00 PM that afternoon, Vanessa was supposed to host a private trunk show at an exclusive gallery in SoHo, featuring her new summer collection. High-society women, fashion bloggers, and press outlets were already arriving at the venue.
I sat in the back of a blacked-out Escalade parked across the street from the gallery, accompanied by Matteo and Nico.
Through the tinted windows, we watched Vanessa step out of a luxury town car wearing a stunning emerald-green dress, smiling for the paparazzi lined up outside the velvet ropes. She looked radiant, completely unbothered by the fact that twelve hours earlier, she had cheered while a woman was whipped in front of two hundred people.
"Is everything ready, Matteo?" I asked.
Matteo checked his golden pocket watch. "The federal marshals and the copyright enforcement team are pulling up right now."
On cue, two dark blue vans marked with U.S. MARSHALS and DEPARTMENT OF COMMERCE pulled up directly in front of the gallery, blocking the red carpet. Six uniformed officers and three plainclothes investigators stepped out, carrying official seizure warrants.
The paparazzi gasped, cameras flashing furiously as the marshals pushed past the velvet ropes and walked straight into the gallery.
"Let's go take a look," Nico said with a dark smile, opening the door of the Escalade.
I stepped out onto the sidewalk, wearing a sleek black trench coat, high heels, and dark sunglasses. My wrists were still bandaged under my leather gloves, but I walked with my head held high, my brothers walking on either side of me like two dark shadows.
Inside the gallery, chaos had erupted.
Guests were whispering and scrambling toward the exits while federal agents pulled expensive silk gowns off the racks, stuffing them into heavy canvas evidence bags.
Vanessa was screaming at the lead investigator, her face red, her voice piercing the room. "Do you know who I am?! This is my launch event! Call my lawyer! Call Adrian Vale!"
"Miss Crowe," the lead investigator said coldly, holding up a thick stack of legal documents. "We are executing a federal seizure warrant for systematic trademark infringement, grand larceny, and distribution of counterfeit materials. The entire pattern library for your summer collection was stolen from a European fashion house three months ago."
"That's impossible! I designed those!" Vanessa shrieked.
"No, you didn't, Vanessa," I said, my voice echoing clearly across the marble gallery floor.
Vanessa turned around, her eyes widening in absolute shock as she saw me standing near the entrance, flanked by Nico and Matteo.
"Anna?" she stammered, stepping back. "What... what are you doing here?! How did you get in here?!"
I walked slowly toward her, the sound of my heels clicking rhythmically against the stone.
"You told me last night to remember my place, Vanessa," I said quietly, stopping inches from her face. "I took your advice. My place is right here... watching you lose everything my husband bought for you with my money."
Vanessa’s eyes darted to the federal agents who were currently clearing out her entire gallery. "You did this?! You miserable little rat! Adrian will destroy you for this!"
"Adrian is currently busy," Matteo stepped forward, pulling a court summons from his coat pocket and handing it directly to Vanessa. "Miss Crowe, you have been officially named as a primary co-defendant in a civil suit for corporate theft, tortious interference, and conspiracy to commit physical assault. Your bank accounts were frozen twenty minutes ago."
Vanessa looked down at the legal document, then looked at me, her hands shaking violently.
"You can't do this..." she whimpered, her arrogant composure completely shattering. "Adrian loves me! He's going to marry me!"
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"Adrian married me for money, Vanessa," I whispered, leaning in close so only she could hear. "And now that he has none, do you really think he's going to hold your hand in a federal courtroom?"
I turned on my heel and walked out of the gallery, leaving Vanessa standing in the middle of a barren room, surrounded by cameras capturing her complete humiliation for the world to see.
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