Chapter 5: The Blue Portfolio
The old design studio stood on a quiet street in the Marais district.
My mother had rented the space for more than twenty years. After her death, it had remained locked, its contents preserved under the supervision of Celeste and Julian.
I hadn't visited in almost a decade.
The building looked smaller than I remembered.
Its dark green door was scratched, and the brass nameplate had developed a dull patina.
ELEANOR BENNETT — ATELIER.
A security guard waited outside.
"Madame Moreau," he said.
"The police have been informed.""
Celeste nodded.
"Did anyone enter?""
"Someone forced the rear window. We haven't touched anything.""
Julian arrived a few minutes later.
"Claire, you should wait outside.""
I shook my head.
"It's my mother's studio.""
"Which is precisely why you shouldn't enter until the police finish their inspection.""
A loud crash came from inside.
The security guard immediately reached for his radio.
Celeste stepped forward.
"Who's in there?""
No answer.
Then a man's voice called from the darkness.
"Leave the door open, and nobody gets hurt.""
Julian pulled me behind him.
A moment later, a tall man emerged carrying a black leather case.
He wore a dark coat and black gloves.
When he saw Celeste, he froze.
"Madame Moreau.""
Celeste stared at him.
"Victor?""
The man attempted to run.
The security guard caught him before he reached the pavement. A brief struggle followed, and the leather case fell open.
Several documents scattered across the sidewalk.
I recognized one of them.
It was a photograph of my mother standing beside a large metal filing cabinet.
Another showed a set of architectural plans.
The third was a document bearing Adrian's signature.
My stomach tightened.
"What's that?"" I asked.
Julian picked it up.
His expression became grave.
"An authorization to remove materials from the Bennett archive.""
"Signed by Adrian?""
"Yes.""
Celeste looked toward the man.
"Who hired you?""
Victor remained silent.
Julian handed the document to the security guard.
"We'll let the police handle that question.""
Within minutes, officers arrived and began examining the studio.
Victor was taken away for questioning.
Inside, the damage was worse than I'd expected.
Drawers had been pulled out. Fabric samples lay scattered across the floor. Several framed sketches had been removed from the walls.
My mother's old cutting table was scratched, and a small cabinet had been forced open.
I walked slowly through the room.
The familiar smell of cedar, fabric, and old paper brought back memories so vivid that my throat tightened.
I could almost hear her humming while she worked.
I remembered sitting beneath the table as a child, drawing dresses on scraps of paper.
"Mom always said fabric remembered the hands that touched it," I whispered.
Celeste smiled sadly.
"She said the same thing to me.""
We reached the back office.
The safe stood behind a framed sketch of an emerald evening gown.
Its door was open.
Inside were several empty folders.
I felt my pulse quicken.
"The blue portfolio.""
Celeste examined the shelves.
"It should be here.""
Julian checked the inventory list.
"According to Eleanor's records, it was stored in this compartment.""
He tapped the bottom shelf.
There was a faint rectangular outline in the dust.
Someone had removed it.
My heart sank.
"Adrian has it.""
Celeste didn't answer.
Instead, she walked toward the cutting table.
"Claire, come here.""
She ran her fingers beneath its wooden edge.
Then she pressed a small brass button hidden underneath.
A narrow compartment clicked open.
Inside was a blue leather portfolio.
My breath caught.
"She hid it.""
Celeste carefully removed it.
"Your mother never trusted safes as much as she trusted furniture.""
The portfolio was old, but its leather was perfectly preserved. A small silver clasp held it shut.
I opened it.
The first document was a letter from my mother.
The second was a detailed record of investments.
The third was a handwritten list of names.
At the top was Adrian's father.
Below his name were three others.
One belonged to a former Vale Group accountant.
Another belonged to a lawyer who had died five years earlier.
The final name made me stop breathing.
*Celeste Moreau.*
I looked at her.
"Why is your name here?""
Celeste slowly sat down.
"Because your mother trusted me with something important.""
"What?""
She glanced toward Julian.
He closed the office door.
Then Celeste spoke.
"Eleanor didn't simply finance Vale Group. She helped create a private partnership that controlled the intellectual property behind several of its most valuable collections.""
I frowned.
"Why does that matter?""
"Because the company Adrian calls his empire doesn't own all the designs, trademarks, or licensing rights it uses.""
Julian opened the portfolio to another section.
"These documents establish that Eleanor retained ownership of the original design archive and assigned certain licensing rights to a separate foundation.""
I stared at him.
"A foundation?""
Celeste nodded.
"Created to protect independent designers and preserve your mother's work.""
"Who controls it?""
She looked at me.
"You do.""
I sat down.
The room seemed to tilt.
"So Adrian has been trying to steal the company, but he doesn't even own the designs?""
"Some of them," Julian corrected.
"The foundation owns the original archive and several critical licensing rights. Vale Group operates under agreements that require the foundation's approval.""
I looked through the pages.
There were licensing contracts, trademark registrations, and original design sketches.
One document listed a collection called The Emerald Legacy.
The same collection Adrian had announced would launch the following spring.
Its lead design was a gown my mother had sketched thirty years earlier.
I stared at the page.
"He's using her work.""
Celeste nodded.
"Without properly acknowledging her ownership.""
I felt something harden inside me.
For years, Adrian had presented himself as a self-made visionary. He had given interviews about his creative instincts and his ability to recognize trends before anyone else.
But some of his most celebrated collections had originated in my mother's studio.
"Why didn't anyone expose him?""
"Because Eleanor's estate allowed the company to operate under a licensing agreement. She believed Adrian would eventually honor the original arrangement.""
"And he didn't.""
"No.""
Julian turned another page.
"There is a clause here that may become important.""
He pointed to a paragraph.
"Should the company attempt to obtain control of the beneficiary's trust through fraudulent means, the foundation may suspend the licensing agreement pending review.""
I looked up.
"Can we suspend it now?""
"Potentially, yes. But we need to establish the exact scope of the agreement and give the company formal notice.""
Celeste folded her arms.
"Which means Adrian will soon discover that his most profitable collection cannot legally be sold without Claire's approval.""
My phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
I answered cautiously.
"Hello?""
A woman's voice spoke in a whisper.
"Mrs. Vale? My name is Sophie Laurent. I used to work in your husband's executive office.""
"How did you get my number?""
"I found it in the old company records. Please, you have to listen.""
I glanced at Julian.
"What is this about?""
"It's about the blue portfolio. Mr. Vale has been searching for it for months.""
My stomach tightened.
"Why?""
Sophie hesitated.
"Because it contains proof that he didn't just steal your mother's designs.""
"Then what?""
Her voice dropped.
"He forged her signature on the original licensing agreement.""
I gripped the phone.
"Are you certain?""
"I saw the original documents. Your mother never approved the final transfer.""
I looked at Celeste.
Her expression had gone completely still.
Sophie continued.
"There's another reason he wants the portfolio. It contains a letter from your mother explaining why she refused to give him ownership.""
"What did the letter say?""
A long silence followed.
Then Sophie whispered:
"She discovered he had been using the company to finance something much bigger than his affair with Vanessa.""
The call disconnected.
I stared at my phone.
May you like
Celeste slowly closed the portfolio.
"Claire, I think we need to prepare for something far worse than a corporate takeover.""
