She Named My First

Ruby used that perfectly executed charity campaign to pave the way for her company’s successful IPO.

No one knew that the true designer of that tea set was the late artisan, Shane Ellis.

I was his last student before he retired.

The Brighton Charity Auction was one of the biggest social events of the year, where the city’s elite gathered.

Ruby had poured massive resources into it.

She needed a flawless public‑relations moment to boost the company’s image and build hype for their upcoming product launch.

Hayden’s genius‑designer persona was the centerpiece of it all.

In my previous life, I had been locked inside the house, forced to watch everything unfold through the news.

I watched as the two of them stepped onto the stage together, bathed in flashing cameras.

Ruby stood there, confident and radiant, announcing that all proceeds from the auction of First Light would be donated to children in remote mountain areas.

Beside her, Hayden carried himself with effortless charm, talking about his so‑called creative journey.

They won thunderous applause.

Me?

I was like a rat hiding in the shadows, driven nearly insane with jealousy.

This time, I was not going to give them that chance.

I did not contact the media, nor did I search for evidence.

When it came to arrogant people, the best way to deal with them was simple: let them fall from the highest point on their own.

I pulled out my teacher Shane’s original design drafts. Tucked into the last page was a yellowed sheet of paper, a letter he had written to me before he died.

In it, he wrote about the piece he was most proud of in his later years, one he loved too much to ever show publicly, never even signing it. He described the entire design process in detail, down to one particular feature. At the center of the tea set’s base, he had left an almost imperceptible signature using a special glaze, “Shane.”

That piece was called First Light.

I picked up my phone and made a call. “Hello, is this Mr. Carter?”

An older voice answered on the other end, aged but strong. “Who is this?”

“I am Shane’s student. Jeff.”

Brian Carter was one of the most respected authorities in art authentication. He had also been a close friend of my teacher for many years.

He was known for being strict and uncompromising. He had zero tolerance for people who built their reputation on hype or stole others’ work.

“Oh, Jeff. What can I do for you?”

“Mr. Carter, I needed a favor.”

I did not go into too much detail. I only mentioned that a piece might appear at the Brighton auction that closely resembled Shane’s style.

“I just think my teacher’s work deserved better, that it should not be buried or stolen by people like that.”

There was a long silence on the other end.

“I understand.”

That was enough, I thought.

On the night of the auction, I did not go in person. I stayed home and turned on the livestream.

On the screen, Ruby stood under the spotlight in a tailored black suit, sharp and composed.

Beside her, Hayden wore a white suit, looking polished and refined.

Behind them, on a massive display, was the First Light tea set. Its porcelain looked like jade, smooth and luminous, with light passing through its delicate body as if it held a piece of the morning sun within. It was breathtaking.

“This piece, First Light, is the result of three years of careful work by Hayden. It represents rebirth. It represents hope.” Ruby’s voice was rich and confident. The way she looked at Hayden was filled with admiration, even affection.

Hayden gave a graceful nod, perfectly in sync with her.

The crowd erupted into applause.

The bidding began, and the price shot up fast.

It quickly crossed into eight figures.

Just as the host was about to bring the hammer down, someone stood from the front row.

It was Brian.

He leaned on his cane, his hair gray, yet his presence strong and commanding.

“Ms. Wheeler, may I ask a question?”

The moment he spoke, all eyes turned toward him.

Ruby clearly recognized him. A polite, professional smile appeared on her face.

“Mr. Carter, of course. Please.”

Brian gave a slight nod, his gaze settling on the tea set. “This is indeed an excellent piece.”

He paused, his tone calm yet carrying undeniable weight. “However, the lines of the teapot and the curvature of the cups…

“They are almost identical to the style of an old friend of mine. Mr. Shane Ellis.”

His voice was not loud, yet through the microphone, it echoed across the entire venue.

After a brief pause, he turned his eyes toward Hayden on stage.

“So, tell me, Mr. Gibson…who was your teacher.”