Chapter 8: The Letter Vanessa Was Desperate to Find
The next morning, Rebecca called me before I had finished breakfast.
"Don't go to your father's house alone," she said.
"Daniel has found another reference to the missing letter in the studio records.""
"What does it say?""
"Only that your mother intended to leave a sealed statement with an independent witness. We don't yet know whether it concerns the trust, the property, or something else.""
I thought about Dad's warning.
Vanessa had spent the night searching his study.
"Can we find it?""
"We'll investigate through the proper channels. For now, I need you to concentrate on your showcase. Your mother wanted you to have a future, and that's still within reach.""
She was right.
At noon, I arrived at the foundation to rehearse my presentation. The Rising Star showcase would take place that evening in a converted gallery filled with tall windows, white walls, and rows of chairs facing a raised platform.
Designers moved between clothing racks while assistants adjusted lights and checked garment labels.
I hung my backup gown in the dressing room and ran my fingers over its turquoise train.
For the first time, I wasn't trying to make something my family would approve of.
I was making something that expressed who I was.
Patricia appeared in the doorway.
"Nia, there's someone here to see you.""
I turned.
Brianna stood behind her.
She wasn't wearing makeup, and her hair hung loosely around her shoulders. Without the expensive clothes and confident smile, she looked younger than seventeen.
Patricia remained beside the door.
"I'll be right outside," she said.
Brianna stepped into the room.
"Can we talk?""
I folded my arms.
"About what?""
She glanced at the dress rack.
"That.""
"Which part? The part where you ruined my first dress or the part where you stole the second one?""
Her cheeks flushed.
"I didn't mean for things to go this far.""
"You entered my design in a competition and told everyone you made it.""
"Mom said it was the only way I could win.""
I stared at her.
"And you believed her?""
Brianna looked away.
"She said you had the foundation backing you. She said you would win anyway, and that I deserved one chance to prove myself.""
"You could have asked me to help you design something.""
"I know.""
"You could have made your own dress.""
"I know!""
Her voice cracked.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Brianna sat down.
"Do you know what it's like to feel as if you're never enough?""
I looked at her.
She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand.
"Mom always says I have to be exceptional. Beautiful, successful, impressive. If I lose, she says I embarrassed her.
If I don't get the best grades, she says I wasted my potential. If someone compliments another girl, she asks what that girl has that I don't.""
I remained silent.
It was the first time Brianna had ever spoken honestly about her life.
But understanding her pain didn't erase what she'd done to me.
"I know what it's like to feel invisible," I said.
"I know what it's like to work until my fingers bleed and have someone laugh at what I've made. I know what it's like to lose the only person who ever made me feel safe.""
She looked up.
"Then you understand.""
"No, Brianna. I understand why you might feel desperate to win. I don't understand why you decided I had to lose for you to succeed.""
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
"I didn't think you'd actually get into the final.""
"Why?""
"Because Mom said your designs were childish. She said the foundation would never take someone like you seriously.""
I looked toward the gown.
"Well, they did.""
Brianna nodded.
Then she reached into her bag and placed a small envelope on the table.
"I brought this.""
Inside was a folded document with Vanessa's handwriting across the top.
It was a printed copy of the trust amendment.
Beneath it was a note in my stepmother's handwriting.
Find the original letter before Nia does. Destroy it if necessary.
My stomach tightened.
"Where did you get this?""
"Mom left it on her desk. I wasn't supposed to see it.""
"Why bring it to me?""
Brianna's eyes filled again.
"Because I don't want to be like her anymore.""
I studied her face.
For once, I didn't see the smug girl who had laughed at my dress. I saw someone who had spent years being taught that love was something she had to earn by winning.
But I couldn't trust her simply because she was crying.
"Why should I believe you?""
"You shouldn't. Not yet.""
She stood and walked toward the door.
Then she stopped.
"There's something else. Mom told Dad that she was going to destroy the original trust records tonight. She said if the letter disappeared, nobody could prove what happened.""
I grabbed my phone.
"Where is she now?""
"At home. Packing.""
"Why tell me this?""
Brianna looked over her shoulder.
"Because you were right. I could have made my own dress.""
She left before I could respond.
I immediately called Rebecca and told her about the note. She instructed me not to approach Vanessa or attempt to retrieve anything from the house myself.
"We'll contact the appropriate authorities if there is evidence that records are being destroyed," she said.
"For now, preserve the note and the original envelope. Don't alter them.""
I photographed both sides and sent the images to her.
Then I returned to the rehearsal.
For the next three hours, I practiced walking onto the platform, explaining the inspiration behind my gown, and answering questions about my design process.
When the director asked why I had chosen ocean colors, I thought about the blue paint dripping down my ruined satin.
"Because I learned that damage doesn't have to be the end of something," I said.
"Sometimes it's the beginning of a different kind of beauty.""
The director smiled.
"That's a powerful answer.""
At six o'clock, guests began arriving.
Buyers, designers, journalists, and representatives from several fashion houses filled the gallery. The air smelled of perfume and fresh flowers. Camera flashes flickered across the walls.
I stood backstage in my midnight-blue gown, listening as the first contestants presented their designs.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from Dad.
Vanessa has gone to the studio. She says she's looking for something your mother left behind. Please, Nia, don't let this become worse than it already is.
My heart lurched.
I called him immediately.
"Why is she going to the studio?""
"I don't know. She took the car and left.""
"Did you stop her?""
He was silent.
"Dad!""
"I tried. She said she was going to retrieve her personal property.""
"She has no right to destroy my mother's records.""
"I know.""
"Then call the police.""
"I can't.""
I stared at the dressing-room wall.
"Why not?""
His answer was barely audible.
"Because I think she's going there to destroy evidence of what I did.""
The words landed like a physical blow.
"What did you do, Dad?""
He began to cry.
"I signed the transfers, Nia. I knew the money was supposed to be protected. I knew your mother wanted it for you. Vanessa told me we'd replace it before you ever needed it.""
My knees weakened.
"You let her take my future because she promised to put the money back?""
"I thought I could fix everything.""
"How much did you know?""
"Too much.""
I pressed my hand over my mouth.
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Then a stage assistant appeared in the doorway.
"Nia, you're next.""
I looked at my reflection in the mirror.
My gown shimmered beneath the dressing-room lights.
The audience was waiting.
My mother had spent years preparing me for a future she knew she might not live to see.
I couldn't let this night become another memory of someone taking something away from me.
I returned to the stage.
The lights brightened, and the audience applauded as I stepped onto the platform.
I explained the gown's construction, the hand-stitched details, and the inspiration behind the ocean colors. I told them about the paint that had ruined my original fabric and how I'd transformed the damage into the centerpiece of the design.
I didn't mention Vanessa.
I didn't mention Brianna.
I talked about creativity, resilience, and the courage to begin again.
When I finished, the room was silent for a beat.
Then the applause rose.
A woman in the front row stood.
She wore a black suit and a silver brooch shaped like a needle and thread.
I recognized her from the photograph in my mother's studio.
Patricia had told me she was a renowned designer who had known my mother for decades.
She approached the stage after the presentation.
"Nia," she said, "your mother would have been incredibly proud.""
My eyes burned.
"Thank you.""
She studied the gown.
"Your technique is remarkable, but it's your understanding of the story behind the fabric that makes this design special.""
She paused.
"Have you considered continuing your mother's collection?""
I shook my head.
"I didn't even know it existed until yesterday.""
Her expression changed.
"What do you mean?""
Before I could answer, Patricia rushed into the gallery, her face pale.
She pulled me aside.
"Nia, we have a serious problem.""
"What happened?""
"Someone has entered the Mercer Street studio. The security company reported smoke coming from the rear entrance.""
My blood ran cold.
"Is Vanessa there?""
"They believe so.""
I grabbed my bag.
Patricia caught my arm.
"Wait. The fire department is already on the way, and Rebecca has been notified. You cannot go inside.""
"My mother's designs are in there!""
"And your safety matters more than any document.""
I stood frozen as the realization settled over me.
Vanessa hadn't gone to the studio to retrieve her belongings.
She had gone to erase the past.
Then my phone rang.
It was an unfamiliar number.
I answered.
A man's voice spoke urgently.
"Is this Nia Carter?""
"Yes.""
"This is Officer Bennett. We need to speak with you about the Mercer Street property.""
My fingers went numb.
"What happened?""
He paused.
"We found a document near the rear entrance. It appears to have been dropped by the person who left the building.""
"What document?""
"A handwritten letter addressed to you.""
I could barely breathe.
"Is it from my mother?""
"We can't confirm that yet.""
He continued.
"But there's something written on the envelope that we believe you need to see.""
I gripped the phone.
"What does it say?""
May you like
His answer shattered the last piece of certainty I had left.
If Nia ever learns what happened the night Elena died, Marcus must tell her the truth.
