Couture and Consequences

I never thought that my husband of five years would take the collection I poured my heart and soul into and just hand it over to an assistant who'd been here for two weeks.

When the spotlights came up for the preview, and Victoria glided down the runway in the silk gown I designed, the feeling of betrayal was like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head.

The fashion critics in the audience looked at Victoria with awe. Brand owners nodded again and again.

I even heard someone whisper, "This new talent is one to watch."

"Her design language is so mature and bold, on par with a senior designer who's been in the business for over a decade!"

I sat in the last row, watching a girl seven years younger than me wear the suit I had cut with my own hands.

She lifted her hand gracefully, showing everyone the details that were mine, explaining her design concept.

Alexander sat in the front row, his eyes filled with an unconcealed pride, as if he'd just discovered a diamond in the rough.

At the party after the show, he even raised a toast, calling Victoria the brand's brightest new star, an example for everyone.

My nails dug into my palms under the table, hard enough to draw blood.

When the party was over, I waited for Alexander right outside his private lounge.

He saw me, his face still flushed with excitement, his eyes shining. He had no idea a storm was coming.

"Evelyn, did you see that? Victoria is so talented! Your designs looked perfect on her!"

I took a deep breath. The sweet smell of champagne made me sick.

"Alexander, those are my designs."

He paused for a second, then waved his hand dismissively.

"Oh, that."

"I just thought Victoria needed a chance, so I let her try out your collection."

Try out.

The work of my last three sleepless months was, to him, just a toy for an assistant to "try out."

"Do you know what this collection means to me? It was my entry for this year's Paris Fashion Design Competition!"

A flicker of guilt crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced by that same sense of entitlement.

"You win awards every year anyway. What's the big deal if you let her have this one?"

"Besides, it's just the spring preview. It's not like the actual competition in Paris."

I felt a cold hand clutch my chest. The blood was roaring in my ears.

"Alexander, what am I to you?"

He seemed shaken by my cold tone and looked away. He reached out to put a hand on my shoulder, a weak attempt to comfort me.

"Don't be like this. Victoria is just a kid. She's fresh out of school, so young, no connections. I just wanted to help her out."

I turned and walked away. I couldn't stand to hear another word. It felt like death by a thousand cuts.

I heard him call my name behind me, but I didn't look back.

I didn't even slow down.