Chapter 4

Standing at the base of the building, I could see the lights on the seventeenth floor, and I could just make out the sound of laughter and chatter.

I took the elevator up. The door hadn't been shut all the way, left open a crack.

The voices inside carried out clearly:

"Francis, when are you and Rosie finally tying the knot? The place is all done up. When do we get to drink at your wedding?"

It was one of the studio veterans, the one who'd been with Francis the longest.

Through a wave of laughter, Rose said with a coy little pout,

"Chad Chavez, quit talking nonsense. Francis and I are just good friends."

Someone else jumped in.

"Good friends, my foot. The whole studio knows you're the one Francis dotes on the most. The award goes to you, the car goes to you, the house goes to you. If that's just ordinary friends, I'll twist my own head off!"

Francis laughed out loud but didn't deny any of it.

"All right, enough. Stop picking on Rosie, she's shy."

Not one word about me.

Nobody knew this wasn't just Francis's home. It was mine too.

In everyone's eyes, I was the salaried drafter working behind the scenes.

And Rose was the one standing at the summit beside him.

I pushed the door open and walked in.

The lively living room went silent in an instant.

Every eye in the room landed on me.

Rose was leaning against Francis's shoulder, a glass of champagne in her hand.

The moment she saw me, the color drained from her face, and she scrambled to straighten up.

Francis's expression darkened, plain anger in his eyes.

He came toward me and lowered his voice.

"Are you done making a scene? Didn't I tell you not to come?"

"You just had to come and wreck this, didn't you? Do you know the client's people are here today?"

His first reaction wasn't to explain. It wasn't to smooth things over.

It was to blame me for ruining his good time.

I looked at him, and then I laughed.

"This is my house. Why can't I come?"

My voice wasn't loud, but it was loud enough for the whole room to hear.

The people around us started whispering.

"What does she mean? Didn't Francis buy this place for Rosie?"

"Isn't she just the one who does the drawings?"

"Right, her position's so low she doesn't even rate an invite to the outing. What do you mean, her house? Is she dreaming?"

Rose's eyes went red, the picture of someone terribly wronged.

"Abby, I think you've misunderstood something..."

I raised an eyebrow and looked at the necklace at her throat.

"That moonstone necklace. Francis bought it for me last year, for our anniversary. Why is it around your neck?"

Rose's hand went to her throat on reflex, her face flustered.

The coworkers around us erupted at once.

"Abigail, what's your problem? Have you lost your mind? You dare talk to the future boss's wife like that?"

"How could Mr. Harding possibly buy you a necklace? Doesn't your family own a mirror?"

"You'd better calm down and stop this. Make Mr. Harding angry and you can kiss your job goodbye!"

Francis's patience ran out, and his voice shot up.

"Shut your mouth! It's just a necklace. Do you really have to humiliate her in front of all these people? Get out of here right now!"

"I'm humiliating her?"

I was so angry I laughed.

"You took my things and gave them to her, put her name on my designs, used my commission to buy her a car. Did you ever once think about whether I was humiliated?"

I pulled a stack of documents from my bag and slapped it down on the table.

"These are the original design drafts. From the first version to the seventeenth. All of it, right here."

"This is proof of my investment in the studio. I put in four hundred thousand of the startup capital. Forty percent stake."

"This is the down-payment record for the wedding home. I paid four hundred thousand of that too, plus the renovation. Half the property is mine."

"And this."

I took out the last document.

"Back when you had no money and I never signed a formal employment contract with you, I filed personal copyright on the final scheme for the landmark project. The studio has no right to use it."

Dead silence in the room, and all around, the sound of people sucking in a sharp breath.

Francis's face went completely white.

"What do you mean?"

I looked at him, calm.

"It means I'm pulling my stake out of the studio, and the project scheme is something you and Rose have no right to use."

"As for this house, tomorrow I'll have my lawyer settle it with you down to the cent. What's mine, not a penny less."

"Francis, we're done."