Michael nodded.
They reviewed.
Most clips were nothing.
Olivia entering with laundry.
Housekeeper vacuuming with permission.
Michael checking a window latch.
Diane leaving folded clothes.
A cat from next door somehow appearing on the balcony and staring at the glass for seven minutes.
Then Brooke.
Sixteen days earlier.
She entered at 1:12 p.m.
Olivia was at school.
Brooke walked directly to the garment rack.
She touched the navy dress.
Nothing wrong yet.
Then moved to Olivia’s desk.
Opened a sketchbook.
Photographed three pages with her phone.
Diane stopped the video.
No one spoke.
Olivia looked toward her.
“I told you.”
Diane swallowed.
“Yes.”
They continued.
Brooke returned four days later.
Another sketchbook.
More photographs.
Then the external drive.
She picked it up.
Turned it over.
Plugged it into Olivia’s laptop.
The camera could not show the screen.
She remained there eleven minutes.
Olivia whispered:
“She had my password.”
Michael frowned.
“How?”
“She knows my old one.”
“You changed it.”
“Three months ago.”
“Did you reuse a variation?”
Olivia looked embarrassed.
“Yes.”
Michael nodded.
“No lecture.”
“Later.”
They continued.
Brooke photographed a notebook containing material samples.
Two weeks before the dress-cutting incident, she held one page beside her own phone and typed for several minutes.
Diane looked ill.
“What is in that book?”
Olivia answered.
“My summer capsule sketches.”
“For the foundation?”
“No.”
“Personal.”
She stood.
Walked upstairs.
Returned with the sketchbook.
Pages filled with silhouettes.
Jackets.
Skirts.
A structured cropped vest with asymmetrical piping.
One look in particular made Diane stop.
A black evening separates concept with an off-shoulder top and shaped waist.
She had seen it.
Online.
Brooke’s account.
Three weeks earlier.
A sponsored post announcing:
COMING SOON — B. HART STUDIO / NOCTURNE TEST LOOK.
Diane looked toward Olivia.
“Did you know?”
“I thought they looked similar.”
“Why didn't you say anything?”
Olivia laughed bitterly.
“I did.”
Diane stared.
“When?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“In the car.”
“You showed me Brooke’s post.”
“You said the neckline was trendy.”
Diane remembered.
God.
She had said:
Everyone is doing that neckline right now.
Olivia continued.
“I told you the waist seam was mine.”
“You said designers influence each other.”
Diane covered her mouth.
“I didn't understand you were saying she took it.”
“I didn't know.”
Olivia looked toward the camera footage.
“I thought maybe I was being dramatic.”
That sentence destroyed something in Diane.
Not trust exactly.
Her own image of herself as neutral.
She had spent years believing neutrality protected both girls.
Maybe all it had done was make the person with more aggressive behavior pay less for it.
Michael closed the laptop.
“We need Brooke here.”
Olivia immediately said:
“No.”
He looked at her.
“She needs to explain.”
“Not in my house.”
Michael stopped.
Diane watched.
Olivia continued.
“Not today.”
“Okay.”
He nodded.
“Then neutral place.”