Chapter 3
Even the officers were caught off guard by the spectacle.
Richard ignored everyone else, speaking only to me with complete respect. "Miss Lane, as you requested, we've brought our top team."
He stepped aside, revealing a man with gold-rimmed glasses. "This is Chanel's lead authenticator for our country."
Another elegant woman stepped forward.
"This is Loro Piana's brand PR director," Richard added.
Finally, a white-haired, dignified man, supported by two assistants, shuffled in slowly.
Richard introduced him. "This is Mr. Pierre, Hermès's legendary leather craftsman. He flew in from Frantica specifically to..."
Before he could finish, Mr. Pierre spotted the shredded pink Birkin on the floor.
He shuddered, like he'd seen something horrifying.
He pushed away his helpers and stumbled toward it.
He knelt, pulled on his white gloves, and lifted the destroyed pieces with trembling hands.
His eyes got red. "No!"
His voice cracked. "'Cherry Blossom Eve'... my masterpiece... who would do this? This is destruction of art!"
His words were anguished and fierce. Even people who didn't understand his language felt his pain.
Madeline's face went pale.
All color drained from her face.
In the livestream, comments finally returned.
But they weren't mocking or celebratory anymore. Just question marks and exclamation points.
[???]
[Did I just see Chanel? Loro Piana? Hermès? Is this real?]
[That foreigner, I think that really is Pierre! I've seen him in fashion magazines. He's Hermès's national treasure craftsman!]
[So that bag is real?]
[Not just real. It sounds like a custom piece. One of a kind.]
[Oh my god! I've been clowning on a billionaire this whole time!]
The tables turned so fast it gave everyone whiplash.
Madeline's lips trembled. She couldn't accept it.
She grabbed at her last shred of hope, screaming hysterically. "No. No. This is fake. You're all actors. She hired you!
"This has to be scripted. Those prank videos always do this."
She aimed her phone at the livestream. "Everyone, don't fall for it. It's fake. Nothing this dramatic happens in real life!"
Richard gave her a cold look, like she was already dead.
He didn't argue. Instead, he turned to the officers. "Officers, I'm Richard Terry, chief legal counsel for Lane Enterprises. Here's my bar certification."
He presented his credentials.
"I'm formally representing my client, Charlotte Lane, in filing criminal charges against Madeline Carter and Lily Baker for malicious destruction of property," he declared.
He paused, emphasizing his next words. "Under state law, intentionally destroying another's property, especially when the value is significant, carries a sentence of three to seven years.
"Mr. Pierre has preliminarily confirmed that the 'Cherry Blossom Eve' bag alone, considering materials, craftsmanship, and artistic value, exceeds 1.6 million dollars. This qualifies as 'extraordinarily significant value.'
"That means they face over seven years, plus full restitution of all economic losses."
Over seven years. Full restitution. The words hit Madeline and Lily like sledgehammers.
Lily's legs gave out. She collapsed right there.
Madeline finally broke.
Her phone clattered to the floor. The livestream went black.
But in that final second, everyone watching had seen her face twisted with terror.
"No..." Madeline stammered, her voice cracking.
She shook her head, words running together, tears and snot streaming down her face. "I didn't... I didn't mean to... I thought it was fake.
"Charlotte, please forgive me. We're roommates."
She lunged toward me, trying to grab my legs.
Two bodyguards stepped forward and caught her, holding her back like she weighed nothing.
I stood up and looked down at her.
How pathetic.
I didn't feel satisfied. I didn't feel anything.
"Roommates?" I repeated the word softly, with a trace of mockery. "When I called the cops, weren't you waiting to see me beg?"
My voice wasn't loud, but it hit her like a needle.
She flinched and went silent.
Then came commotion from downstairs.
Several black cars with special plates pulled up outside the dorm.
The university president, the dean, and our department head practically fell out of the cars and sprinted up.
Mr. Carter, the president, hair disheveled, sweat pouring down his face, burst through the door.
Without even glancing at anyone else, he rushed straight to me.
Then, to everyone's shock, he bowed deeply. "Miss Lane. I'm so sorry. This is completely unacceptable. This university failed in its duty."