One Night in Valeria - Chapter 38: Chapter 38
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Jessica received the notice via encrypted email.
> To: Jessica Hale
We regret to inform you that your application for the International Fashion Summit has been declined due to your current lack of institutional sponsorship and allegations of legacy misappropriation.
— The Conservatory Board of Ethics
She stared at the screen, pulse steady.
Beside her, Liam read the message over her shoulder, his jaw tightening. “Misappropriation? They’re using your mother’s stolen work and accusing you of theft?”
“Thorne’s fingerprints are all over this,” Jessica said coldly. “He offered me a gilded cage. I didn’t walk in. So now he’s shutting the doors he thinks I need.”
Celeste barged into the room minutes later, phone in hand. “People are talking. Word’s spreading fast that you were blacklisted. Some are calling you unstable. Others say you forged Klara’s original sketches for attention.”
Jessica blinked. “They’re turning my mother into the weapon.”
“They always do,” Liam said.
Silence.
Then he looked up, fire sparking in his eyes. “Then we burn them with the truth.”
That night, Liam worked through the documents from Dorian Velar’s flash drive. He cross-checked forged contracts, retrieved hidden email headers, and finally found the thread he needed.
A transaction trail.
From A.D. Atelier’s offshore fund
To a Conservatory board member’s private account just days before Jessica was blacklisted.
He turned to Jessica, his voice low and dangerous. “They paid for your silence. And I can prove it.”
She stepped toward him, eyes narrowing. “Can we go public with this?”
He hesitated. “If we do, it puts a target on your back. And mine.”
“Then aim well,” she said. “Because I’m done asking to be included. I’ll build my own summit if I have to.”
Liam smiled. “Actually… what if you did?”
Within 72 hours, the campaign launched.
> #UnwrittenSummit
An independent fashion exhibition led by Jessica Hale.
Featuring global up-and-coming designers, truth-tellers, and legacy-breakers.
Unaffiliated. Unfiltered. Unafraid.
Jessica announced it with a single line:
> “When doors close, I cut new patterns.”
Applications flooded in.
Designers many of them women, POC, queer, or from families like hers sent in sketches, storyboards, letters of support. Some had been blacklisted like her. Some had been warned to keep quiet.
Jessica gave them all a stage.
And the world noticed.
Meanwhile, in the boardroom of the Conservatory, Thorne Velar stood before a cluster of greying executives, calm but fuming.
“She’s turning herself into a movement,” one of them said nervously.
“She’s already gone viral,” another added. “Some of our partners are threatening to withdraw unless we make a public statement.”
Thorne’s voice was ice.
“Let them talk. She won’t survive the next blow.”
But he underestimated something. Jessica wasn’t playing their game anymore.
She was rewriting the rules.
And the storm was coming.
> To: Jessica Hale
We regret to inform you that your application for the International Fashion Summit has been declined due to your current lack of institutional sponsorship and allegations of legacy misappropriation.
— The Conservatory Board of Ethics
She stared at the screen, pulse steady.
Beside her, Liam read the message over her shoulder, his jaw tightening. “Misappropriation? They’re using your mother’s stolen work and accusing you of theft?”
“Thorne’s fingerprints are all over this,” Jessica said coldly. “He offered me a gilded cage. I didn’t walk in. So now he’s shutting the doors he thinks I need.”
Celeste barged into the room minutes later, phone in hand. “People are talking. Word’s spreading fast that you were blacklisted. Some are calling you unstable. Others say you forged Klara’s original sketches for attention.”
Jessica blinked. “They’re turning my mother into the weapon.”
“They always do,” Liam said.
Silence.
Then he looked up, fire sparking in his eyes. “Then we burn them with the truth.”
That night, Liam worked through the documents from Dorian Velar’s flash drive. He cross-checked forged contracts, retrieved hidden email headers, and finally found the thread he needed.
A transaction trail.
From A.D. Atelier’s offshore fund
To a Conservatory board member’s private account just days before Jessica was blacklisted.
He turned to Jessica, his voice low and dangerous. “They paid for your silence. And I can prove it.”
She stepped toward him, eyes narrowing. “Can we go public with this?”
He hesitated. “If we do, it puts a target on your back. And mine.”
“Then aim well,” she said. “Because I’m done asking to be included. I’ll build my own summit if I have to.”
Liam smiled. “Actually… what if you did?”
Within 72 hours, the campaign launched.
> #UnwrittenSummit
An independent fashion exhibition led by Jessica Hale.
Featuring global up-and-coming designers, truth-tellers, and legacy-breakers.
Unaffiliated. Unfiltered. Unafraid.
Jessica announced it with a single line:
> “When doors close, I cut new patterns.”
Applications flooded in.
Designers many of them women, POC, queer, or from families like hers sent in sketches, storyboards, letters of support. Some had been blacklisted like her. Some had been warned to keep quiet.
Jessica gave them all a stage.
And the world noticed.
Meanwhile, in the boardroom of the Conservatory, Thorne Velar stood before a cluster of greying executives, calm but fuming.
“She’s turning herself into a movement,” one of them said nervously.
“She’s already gone viral,” another added. “Some of our partners are threatening to withdraw unless we make a public statement.”
Thorne’s voice was ice.
“Let them talk. She won’t survive the next blow.”
But he underestimated something. Jessica wasn’t playing their game anymore.
She was rewriting the rules.
And the storm was coming.
End of One Night in Valeria Chapter 38. Continue reading Chapter 39 or return to One Night in Valeria book page.