Olivia looked toward Michael.
He nodded.
Evelyn continued.
“You can choose to send a private notice to Brooke.”
“You can request she stop using specific material.”
“You can involve the retailer.”
“You can do nothing legally and handle it within the family.”
“Those options have different risks.”
Olivia thought.
“What happens if the retailer discovers later?”
“They could say Brooke failed to disclose a dispute over originality.”
“Could they sue her?”
“Potentially.”
“For how much?”
“We are not there.”
Evelyn smiled slightly.
“Lawyers should become less exciting at moments like this.”
Olivia almost smiled.
Diane asked:
“What would you recommend?”
Evelyn looked toward her.
“Not deciding for Olivia.”
That stung.
Correctly.
They gave Olivia forty-eight hours.
She talked to Mara.
Not about law.
About design.
Mara listened.
Then asked:
“Do you want Brooke punished?”
Olivia frowned.
“I don't know.”
“Do you want your work back?”
“Yes.”
“That is clearer.”
Mara nodded.
“Start there.”
Olivia did.
Through Evelyn, she sent Brooke a private written demand identifying seven sketches and three digital folders.
Stop using them.
Remove two public posts.
Do not submit related work commercially.
Confirm deletion of copied files.
Preserve existing records.
No money demanded.
No public accusation.
The retailer was not contacted initially.
Brooke called Diane within an hour.
Screaming.
“You hired a lawyer against me?”
Diane sat alone in her car outside a grocery store.
“Olivia retained counsel for her work.”
“She is sixteen.”
“Yes.”
“You did this.”
“No.”
“Dad did.”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“Olivia decided.”
Brooke laughed.
“She has no idea what any of this means.”
“That is why she has counsel.”
Silence.
Diane heard breathing.
Then:
“You chose her.”
There.
Not the designs.
Not the dress.
The original wound.
Diane closed her eyes.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You always choose her now.”
“I am holding you responsible for things you did.”
“Because she matters more.”
“No.”
“Then why did you never do this when someone copied me?”
Diane frowned.
“Who copied you?”
Brooke went quiet.
“College.”
Diane stared through the windshield.
“What?”
“That group project.”
“You told me you used their images.”
“They used mine too.”
“Did you report it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because nobody cared.”
“Brooke.”
“I left.”
Diane felt the pieces move.
Not enough to excuse anything.
Enough to understand another layer.
Brooke had spent years narrating her college departure as something done to her.
Maybe partly true.
Maybe partly not.
Diane asked:
“Do you want to talk with an independent therapist?”
Brooke laughed.
“Of course.”
“I am serious.”
“No.”
“You need someone who is not me.”
“That is convenient.”
“Yes.”
Diane answered.
“It is.”
Brooke went quiet.
Diane continued.
“I have not handled our relationship well.”
“I compared you to Olivia.”
“I minimized things because I was afraid holding you accountable would feel like choosing my husband’s child over mine.”