The Woman Behind the Midnight Masquerade

At 8:15 the following morning, Brielle posted another photograph.

This time, she was sitting in the Bellamy estate's breakfast room wearing my gown, with the butterfly wings spread across the velvet chair behind her.

The caption read:

Some girls dream of being princesses. Others are born to be queens.

Vanessa had commented three red heart emojis.

I looked at the photograph while pouring coffee.

Then I noticed something in the background.

My father's portrait.

The same portrait Vanessa had ordered moved from the main staircase to the breakfast room after his death.

Brielle had deliberately positioned herself beneath it.

I set down my cup.

"Good morning, Camille.""

Vanessa entered wearing a cream-colored blouse and a diamond bracelet.

She glanced at my phone.

"Beautiful picture, isn't it?""

I turned the screen toward her.

"Did you know Brielle posted this?""

"Of course. She looks magnificent.""

"She's wearing my gown.""

Vanessa pulled out a chair.

"Not this again.""

"She's also telling people she was selected by Asteria.""

Vanessa spread butter over her toast.

"Well, someone has to represent this family.""

I placed my phone on the table.

"She wasn't selected.""

Vanessa looked up.

"How would you know?""

"Because I know who was selected.""

Her knife stopped.

Then she laughed.

"Camille, darling, I know you enjoy pretending to have important connections, but this is getting embarrassing.""

I didn't answer.

Brielle entered moments later, wearing a silk robe and carrying a small jewelry case.

"Mother, did you see Celeste's message?""

Vanessa smiled.

"Not yet. What did she say?""

"She wants me at the Harrington private dinner on Friday.""

"Wonderful!""

Brielle sat down beside her.

"She said the chairman might introduce me to the gala's creative director.""

Vanessa looked at me.

"See? This is what opportunities look like, Camille. You should try being supportive instead of jealous.""

I stirred my coffee.

"Does she know you've forged a letter?""

The room went silent.

Brielle slowly lowered her spoon.

"What?""

Vanessa's expression hardened.

"Watch your mouth.""

I opened the email Daniel had sent.

"Yesterday, someone submitted a sponsorship application claiming that Asteria personally endorsed Brielle as the featured fairy queen.""

Brielle looked at Vanessa.

"What is she talking about?""

Vanessa reached for her coffee.

"It's a misunderstanding.""

I turned the laptop around.

The letter appeared on the screen.

At the bottom was a signature.

Asteria.

It looked remarkably similar to mine.

Except for one detail.

The real signature contained a small silver butterfly symbol incorporated into the final stroke.

Whoever had forged this one had copied the letters but missed the symbol.

Brielle leaned forward.

"Mother, you said everything was approved.""

Vanessa shot her a look.

"Don't be foolish.""

I smiled without warmth.

"So you did know.""

Vanessa pushed her plate away.

"Listen carefully. I did what was necessary to secure my daughter's future.""

"By forging someone's signature?""

"Nobody has been harmed.""

"Not yet.""

Brielle folded her arms.

"Can we stop acting like this is some federal crime? It's just a charity event.""

I looked at her.

"Then you won't mind if the organizers investigate.""

Her face changed.

Vanessa stood abruptly.

"You will not interfere with this.""

I closed the laptop.

"Then you should have thought about that before using my name.""

For the first time, I saw uncertainty flicker across her face.

But it disappeared quickly.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," she said.

I stood.

"Perhaps.""

Then I picked up my coffee and left.

I heard Brielle whisper behind me.

"Mother, what if she actually knows someone?""

Vanessa answered loudly enough for me to hear.

"She knows nobody. She's just trying to frighten us.""

I continued walking.

They still didn't understand.

At ten o'clock, I arrived at the private offices of the Midnight Masquerade Foundation.

The headquarters occupied the top three floors of a historic building overlooking Central Park. The lobby had polished limestone floors, brass elevators, and a wall displaying photographs from previous galas.

My assistant, Elena, met me upstairs.

"Good morning, Asteria.""

"Morning.""

She handed me a tablet.

"Legal has reviewed the forged letter. They're preparing a response.""

"Good.""

"There's another issue.""

I stopped.

"What now?""

Elena tapped the screen.

A sponsorship presentation appeared.

It was from Bellamy Holdings.

The company Vanessa had inherited control of after marrying my father.

I scanned the document.

They were requesting a $2 million partnership package in exchange for a prominent position at the gala.

Their proposal included a photograph of Brielle wearing my gown.

At the bottom, Vanessa had written:

Our family maintains a personal relationship with Asteria, whose artistic vision we proudly support.

I laughed once.

Elena looked concerned.

"Is something funny?""

"No. I'm just impressed by how much fiction can fit into six pages.""

She smiled cautiously.

"Would you like me to reject it?""

I studied the proposal.

The Bellamy company had once been a respected luxury textile manufacturer. My father had spent twenty years building it.

After his death, Vanessa had sold several valuable properties, dismissed experienced staff, and surrounded herself with consultants who promised quick profits.

The company was struggling.

The gala sponsorship was their attempt to restore its reputation.

I looked at Elena.

"Don't reject it yet.""

"Why?""

"Because I want to know who approved the financial statements attached to the application.""

Elena enlarged the document.

"The chief financial officer signed them.""

"His name?""

"Martin Cole.""

I recognized it.

Martin had worked for my father.

He had been the one person who openly objected when Vanessa began selling company assets.

"What else?""

Elena hesitated.

"The application includes a statement that Bellamy Holdings has exclusive rights to manufacture merchandise inspired by the Midnight Masquerade's opening performance.""

I stared at her.

"That's impossible.""

"That's what I thought.""

I leaned back.

"Find out where they got that claim.""

Elena nodded.

Then she lowered her voice.

"Camille, there's one more thing you should know.""

"What?""

"The Harrington Foundation called this morning. They want confirmation that Brielle is officially representing the gala.""

I closed my eyes.

Of course they did.

"Tell them she isn't.""

"Should I disclose your identity?""

I considered it.

Then shook my head.

"Not yet.""

Elena looked surprised.

"Why?""

"Because I want to know how far they're willing to go.""

She nodded slowly.

"Understood.""

At noon, I met Madame Laurent in the costume workshop.

The designer had arrived from Paris that morning, carrying a leather portfolio and looking furious.

"Camille!""

She embraced me.

"Darling, what on earth is happening?""

I showed her Brielle's photograph.

Madame Laurent removed her glasses.

"Oh, absolutely not.""

She enlarged the image.

"Look at the wing structure. She's wearing it incorrectly.""

"I know.""

"She's also putting pressure on the shoulder mechanisms. One wrong movement and the frame could crack.""

"Can you repair it if that happens?""

Madame Laurent gave me a sharp look.

"Of course. But I refuse to spend eleven months creating something beautiful just to watch someone treat it like a department-store costume.""

I smiled.

"That's why I wanted you here.""

She opened her portfolio and showed me the original construction plans.

"The gown was designed for your measurements, your movement, and the lighting sequence. It cannot simply be altered to fit another person.""

"Vanessa wants to change the neckline.""

Madame Laurent looked horrified.

"Over my dead body.""

We both laughed.

Then her expression became serious.

"Camille, are you going to let them attend?""

I looked through the workshop window.

Technicians were assembling the enormous stage structure for the gala.

Thousands of tiny lights formed the outline of a butterfly above the main platform.

"No," I said quietly.

"But I want them to believe they still can.""

Madame Laurent studied me.

Then she smiled.

"Ah. There she is.""

"Who?""

"The girl who came to Paris three years ago and told me she wanted to build something nobody could buy.""

I looked at the gown's original sketches.

Three years ago, I had been terrified to put my name on anything.

Now, I was preparing to reveal the biggest project of my life.

My phone vibrated.

A message from Daniel.

*DANIEL: I reviewed the Bellamy sponsorship documents. There is a serious discrepancy. Call me immediately.*

I stepped away from the worktable.

"What's wrong?""

His answer came before I could call.

*DANIEL: The forged endorsement is the least of your problems. Bellamy Holdings has submitted a trademark application claiming ownership of the name Midnight Masquerade.*

I stopped breathing for a second.

Then another message appeared.

*DANIEL: The application includes an old document signed by your father.*

My father's signature.

I stared at the screen.