Chapter 2
Series 1 Chapter 2
Vanessa was still standing onstage when I left the ballroom.
The applause had started again.
As though I had not just been publicly handed a divorce.
I did not return to the apartment.
According to the agreement, it belonged to me.
So did the remaining twenty-seven years of mortgage payments.
Adrian had calculated everything carefully.
Every asset he gave me came with a debt attached.
The cab stopped outside my father’s old house on the edge of the city.
He had left it to me after he died.
Once we were married, Adrian kept urging me to move out.
Eventually, I moved everything I used into the downtown apartment and never came back.
The iron gate was covered in rust.
It took me three tries to force it open.
The power had been shut off.
Using the flashlight on my phone, I went straight to my father’s study.
Aveline’s first licensing agreement had been signed in that room five years ago.
At the time, Adrian’s company had only six employees.
No bank would lend him money.
No established brand wanted to work with him.
So I licensed Aveline’s trademark, product designs, and original formulas to Aurelius.
Adrian told me it would only be for a few years.
Once the company was stable, we would sign a new agreement with fairer terms.
I pulled open the bottom drawer of the desk.
Empty.
The second drawer held nothing but old bills.
I dropped to my knees and felt beneath the desktop until I found the hidden latch.
A concealed panel clicked open.
A gray folder was still inside.
The cover read:
AVELINE LICENSING DOCUMENTS.
I opened it immediately.
Trademark registration.
Original design filings.
Ownership records for the first formula.
And the opening page of the licensing agreement.
I turned to the next section.
Page three was followed by page five.
Page four was missing.
It had been removed cleanly from the binding.
That page contained the licensing term and termination conditions.
I searched the folder.
It had been deliberately removed.
At the bottom of the folder was a courier receipt.
Recipient:
Adrian Vale.
The date was three days after the agreement had been signed.
The sender was Shaw & Pierce.
I remembered that delivery.
The firm had required Adrian to keep a complete copy of the agreement.
He told me an assistant had signed for the package, but it was lost when the company moved offices.
It had never been lost.
He received it.
And he knew exactly what it contained.
My phone vibrated.
An email had arrived from Adrian’s attorney.
The subject line read:
Post-Divorce Asset Transfer Documents.
The attachment was more than forty pages long.
I skipped to the final section.
This was not a routine transfer agreement.
It required me to permanently assign every Aveline asset to Aurelius Group.
The trademark.
The patents.
The product designs.
All existing and future formulas.
Global sales rights.
Sublicensing rights.
Everything.
For no payment.
Irrevocably.
The contract even stated that I could never use the Aveline name independently or identify myself as its founder.
Adrian did not only want the company.
He wanted to silence me forever.
My phone rang almost immediately.
It was him.
“Did you see the documents?”
“Yes.”
“Sign them before nine tomorrow morning.”
His voice was calm again.
As though everything that had happened at the gala was already over.
“Is this part of the divorce agreement?”
“It’s a necessary brand transfer.”
“Then why wasn’t it included in the agreement tonight?”
There was a brief pause.
“The gala wasn’t the place to discuss complicated business terms.”
I stared at the missing fourth page.
“Or were you afraid I would see Aveline’s name?”
His tone turned cold.
“Celeste, don’t make this uglier than it needs to be.”
“You haven’t been involved with the brand in four years.”
“Leaving the rights in your hands creates a risk for everyone.”
“Including Vanessa?”
He said nothing.
“You introduced her as the co-founder tonight,” I continued.
“Under what authority is she using my trademark?”
“Your trademark?”
Adrian gave a quiet laugh.
“Without Aurelius, Aveline would still be a stack of sketches in a drawer.”
“I gave it a market, customers, and value.”
“You’re getting the apartment and the cash because I’m still showing respect for our five years of marriage.”
“Sign the papers.”
“Don’t force me to handle this another way.”
The call ended.
Ten seconds later, another email arrived.
This one was a formal legal notice.
If I refused to sign, Aurelius would claim that Aveline was a marital asset created during our marriage.
They would also petition the court to prevent me from transferring or disposing of any related intellectual property.
They had already prepared their next move.
I called Eleanor Shaw.
She was the attorney who had drafted the original licensing agreement.
She was also the only person who had openly opposed my decision to hand the brand to Adrian.
The moment she answered, I skipped the pleasantries.
“Eleanor, how long was the original Aveline license?”
I heard her keyboard clicking.
“You finally remembered to ask?”
“Just tell me.”
“Five years.”
She paused.
“Based on the signing date, it expires tomorrow at midnight.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“Does it renew automatically?”
“No.”
“Can Adrian extend it without me?”
“No.”
I looked at the transfer agreement on the desk.
“What if he has an additional page with my signature?”
Eleanor went silent.
“What additional page?”
“My copy is missing page four.”
“Adrian received a complete version five years ago.”
I heard a chair scrape back on her end.
“Photograph everything you found and send it to me.”
I took pictures of the first page, the gap where page four should have been, and the courier receipt.
Less than a minute later, Eleanor spoke again.
“The receipt proves he received the agreement.”
“But it doesn’t prove the version he has now hasn’t been altered.”
“If he produces a long-term license bearing your signature, this could become very difficult.”
“I never signed one.”
“Are you sure?”
I opened my mouth to answer.
Then I remembered the email I had signed four years ago.
During that period, Adrian brought me document after document.
Board authorizations.
Account permissions.
Brand-operation approvals.
He told me I was too unwell to read every page carefully.
So I signed whatever he placed in front of me.
Eleanor heard my silence.
“Celeste?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Then don’t alert him yet.”
“Find the complete agreement or locate someone who saw the original.”
I looked at the courier receipt again.
Beneath Adrian’s name was the company’s former address and a stamp from its old legal department.
“If he always knew the license lasted only five years, why wait until now?”
Eleanor answered immediately.
“Because five years ago, you still had clients, a team, and a name of your own.”
“Now everyone only recognizes Aurelius.”
“He believes that even if you still own the rights, you no longer have the power to take the brand back.”
Two beams of light swept across the window.
A black sedan stopped outside the house.
Then a second one pulled in behind it.
I moved to the window.
Adrian stepped out of the first car.
Vanessa followed him.
My mother’s necklace was still around her neck.
An attorney and two security guards emerged from the second vehicle.
Eleanor’s voice sharpened.
“Who’s there?”
A heavy knock struck the front door.
Then Adrian called through the wood.
“Celeste, open the door.”
“We’re here to retrieve company property.”
I looked down at the courier receipt.
He had not even waited until morning.
He knew I would come here.
And he knew what I might find.
I folded the receipt, slipped it into my pocket, and switched off the study light.
Outside, Adrian spoke again.
“Don’t make me send someone in.”
That was when I finally understood.
He had not come for the house.
He had come for the fourth page that had been missing for five years.