He tailored his image. I owned the label.
For twenty years, I built Maison Keller with my own two hands.
My husband built a reputation for saying so.
The name on the door is mine. Legally, personally, on paper my grandmother taught me to keep.
Marius forgot to check.
He sold my house to investors as his own. He put his mistress on my runway and called her the future of the label.
Then he scheduled me to sign it all away for a dollar, three days before my show, and called it housekeeping.
Everyone in that room was told I'd smile and sign. Brilliant, fragile, not to be taken literally after August.
They forgot the tailor reads every seam.
And I read every page before I sign it.
He built the stage, hired the audience, and handed me the microphone.
So I took my name back in twenty sentences, with the whole trade watching.