Fashion Fraud Exposed

I locked the bathroom door with trembling fingers, clutching the small plastic stick in my hand. The marble countertops of Lucas's penthouse bathroom gleamed under the soft lighting, a stark contrast to the chaos swirling inside me. Three minutes. That's all I needed to wait, but each second stretched like an eternity.

My reflection stared back at me from the oversized mirror—dark circles under my eyes, skin pale from months of overwork and underappreciation. I hardly recognized myself anymore.

The timer on my phone buzzed, and I nearly dropped it in the sink. With a deep breath, I looked down at the pregnancy test.

Two pink lines.

I sank to the cold tile floor, my back against the bathtub, as the reality washed over me. A baby. Our baby. Lucas's and mine.

For a fleeting moment, joy bubbled up inside me—the promise of family, of unconditional love, of everything I'd longed for since those lonely nights at the Seattle children's home. But as quickly as it came, the feeling evaporated, replaced by a cold, creeping dread.

What kind of life would this child have? Born to a father who couldn't even look at me anymore, who had publicly humiliated me just days ago at the charity auction? A father who had given away my family's ruby—Rose's Tear—to another woman before my very eyes?

I pressed my palm against my still-flat stomach. "I'll protect you," I whispered, the irony of echoing Lucas's childhood promise not lost on me.

Carefully, I wrapped the test in tissue and slid it into my sketchbook, tucking it safely between pages of designs Lucas would never see. I splashed cold water on my face, reapplied my makeup, and steeled myself for the day ahead.

Three hours later, I stood outside Lucas's office, rehearsing the words I would say. Maybe this news would change things. Maybe it would remind him of what we once had, of the six years I'd devoted to him, to us.

"Lucas, I need to tell you something important," I practiced under my breath, my hand poised to knock.

But through the partially open door, I could see him—head thrown back in laughter, eyes bright with an admiration he hadn't shown me in months. Victoria perched on the edge of his desk, her slender legs crossed elegantly, the ruby necklace—my ruby—gleaming at her throat.

"The buyers from Milan absolutely adored the collection," she was saying, her perfectly manicured hand resting on his arm. "They said it's the most innovative work Sterling Atelier has produced in years."

My collection. My innovation. My years of work.

"We make a perfect team," Lucas replied, his voice warm with affection. "I knew bringing you on board would elevate everything."

I backed away from the door, the pregnancy test burning a hole in my pocket where I'd transferred it from my sketchbook. Tears threatened to spill, but I blinked them back. I wouldn't cry. Not here. Not now.

Two days later, disaster struck during our presentation to the European buyers. I had spent the entire night preparing the samples, ensuring each piece was perfect. The Starlight evening gowns were the centerpiece—delicate, ethereal creations that seemed to capture the night sky in fabric.

I noticed Victoria hovering near my rack moments before the models were due on the runway, but I thought nothing of it. Not until the first model stepped out, and the carefully constructed bodice began to wrinkle before the buyers' eyes. By the time the third model appeared, her gown was literally falling apart at the seams.

Horrified gasps filled the showroom. Lucas's face darkened with fury as he stared at me across the room. The fabric swatches—someone had switched them. The delicate material I'd selected had been replaced with an inferior quality that couldn't hold the structure.

Victoria stepped forward, her voice smooth as silk. "Perhaps we should continue with my designs instead? I have a backup collection ready."

Of course she did.

As Lucas nodded gratefully at Victoria, his eyes met mine—cold, accusing, devoid of trust. In that moment, I knew. I could never tell him about our child. Not now. Perhaps not ever.

My hand instinctively moved to my stomach as a terrible clarity washed over me. I couldn't bring a child into this world of lies, manipulation, and cruelty. I couldn't subject an innocent baby to a father who would never truly see them—just as he had never truly seen me.