We Counted Every Case While The Leased Tables Stayed Behind

Nina answered the theft threat with a request for a supervised pickup.

"A witness, a numbered inventory, and a receipt," she told me. "You won't argue in the doorway."

For five business days, I worked from my kitchen table.

I answered measurement questions. I sent the four producers the same short notice. Their orders were under review because the studio had promised the same stock more than once.

I attached only the pages that showed their own order and the shared lot numbers. Nina checked each email before it left.

Delphine sent a longer message to all four companies.

Manon has chosen to create a material shortage during a leadership change.

The words sat on my screen while I ate toast for dinner.

I wanted to answer each sentence. Instead, I saved the message with its date.

On pickup day, a rented van waited outside the studio at nine.

Thiago stood beside it in work boots.

"You're not on our inventory team," I said.

"I'm here to observe which stock exists. My producer asked for facts."

He held up a letter giving him that job.

Nina nodded. "That's fine. He doesn't handle anything."

Ruth came with printed rows and a small scale. A warehouse clerk named Elena had agreed to witness the count for $150.

Delphine opened the door herself.

"Look at all this fuss," she said. "You'd think we had gold bars."

She wore yellow silk. Her bracelets rang against the latch.

"Please start with case one," Nina said.

For once, Delphine didn't get to set the room's mood.

She offered coffee in the cups we kept for producers. Elena thanked her, then asked for a clear space to spread the inventory. The cups moved to a shelf. I hadn't known how much I needed to see someone put the papers first.

We opened each case on a clear table. Ruth called the lot number. I checked the weight and length. Elena checked the number against the photograph attached to my old ledger.

The silver packets were wrapped in pale paper. Inside each was a small cloth tag with three blue stitches.

"What's that mark?" Thiago asked.

"It tells me to count again before I cut."

He looked down at his own sheet and counted the six silver lots twice.

Delphine leaned against a salon chair.

"She gets attached to things. That's always been the trouble."

I lifted G04 onto the scale.

"Two hundred fifty grams."

Ruth wrote it down.

"You could at least speak to me."

"I'm checking the property."

By eleven, we had matched all forty-eight lots. No shortages. No damaged packets. No released stock mixed in with studio supplies.

We left every leased chair, steam hood, table, and cabinet where it stood.

My share of the business wasn't in the van. Neither was any company tool. Nina had made a separate list of those things for later.

At the bottom of the pickup receipt, Delphine wrote, Ownership disputed.

Nina added, Possession surrendered under written withdrawal notice; all objections reserved.

Delphine signed beneath it.

I signed the count, and Elena signed as witness.

Then we carried the cases outside.

A young assistant waited by the back door with an empty lunch bag. Jules Reed had helped me pin lace during busy weeks.

"Am I fired too?" Jules asked.

"I don't know. Did anyone tell you that?"

"No. I just haven't been paid for the last two weeks."

The amount was $1,260.

"Keep your time sheets," Nina said. "Send a written pay request to the company."

Delphine called from inside, "This isn't the time."

Jules looked at the van.

"When would be a good time?"

Nobody answered.

I drove to a small climate-controlled storage room. Its first month's rent was $120. I paid from my own account and put the receipt in a new folder.

There wasn't much money left in that account.

Thiago waited while I locked the unit.

"I saw enough to know there's no missing silver," he said.

"There's still a supply problem."

"Yes. Now we can name it correctly."

That afternoon, the four producers joined a video call. Delphine declined the invitation.

I laid out four columns: show, stock, deposit, opening.

When I finished, nobody spoke.

Then Second Moon's producer said, "We paid for hair that another show had already booked?"

"Both contracts name the same six lots," I said. "I never signed either lot release."

"Can you save our opening?"

"I can price a different design. I can't give you an answer today."

Thiago leaned toward his camera.

"That's a useful answer. It's the first one with a limit."

A knock came at Ruth's office door, where I had taken the call.

A courier handed Nina a thick envelope.

Delphine had filed a civil claim against me and asked the court to stop me from using the hair.