Chapter 6: The Woman Who Knew My Mother's Secret
I didn't sleep that night.
My father's confession kept replaying in my head.
Your mother promised the entire company would eventually belong to me.
But the trust documents said something different.
They named me as the beneficiary.
They protected my future designs.
And they specifically prohibited anyone else from controlling my creative work.
At 6:15 a.m., I went downstairs.
My father was already in the kitchen, sitting alone with a cup of coffee.
He looked exhausted.
I placed my mother's letter on the table.
“Tell me what she promised you.””
He didn't look up.
“Olivia, not now.””
“You said she promised you the company.””
“She did.””
“Then why did she change the agreement?””
He stirred his coffee.
“She was worried about you.””
“About me?””
“She thought I would sell the business.””
“Would you?””
He didn't answer.
I sat across from him.
“Dad, I need the truth.””
He finally looked at me.
“Your mother and I had different ideas about the future of Bennett Atelier. She wanted you to inherit the studio. I wanted to sell it while it was still valuable.””
“Why?””
“Because running a fashion business is expensive. Your mother had clients, suppliers, employees, and debts.””
“But Evelyn said the company was profitable.””
His expression hardened.
“Evelyn was an employee. She doesn't know everything.””
“Then show me the accounts.””
He stood.
“This conversation is over.””
I remained seated.
“Did you forge Mom's signature?””
He stopped.
The silence lasted several seconds.
Then he turned around.
“Be careful what you accuse people of.””
I looked directly at him.
“I'm asking a question.””
He walked out.
A moment later, Patricia entered.
She was already dressed, her hair perfectly arranged.
“You shouldn't provoke your father.””
I laughed.
“Is that what you call asking him about a missing $420,000?””
She opened the refrigerator.
“Your mother made decisions that affected everyone.””
“Then why won't anyone show me the original documents?””
Patricia removed a bottle of water.
“Because you wouldn't understand the business.””
“I'm twenty-one, not five.””
She closed the refrigerator.
“Your mother was not always easy to work with.””
I stood.
“Neither am I.””
Her eyes narrowed.
“You're becoming exactly like her.””
For some reason, that sounded more like an insult than a compliment.
I walked toward the stairs.
Behind me, Patricia said:
“Your mother destroyed more than one relationship before she died.””
I stopped.
“What does that mean?””
Patricia smiled faintly.
“Ask your father why he stopped sleeping in her bedroom during the last year of her life.””
My stomach tightened.
I turned around.
“What are you talking about?””
But Patricia had already walked away.
At ten, Laura called.
“I've reviewed the trust documents you sent.””
“And?””
“There's a potentially important issue. The document your stepmother provided appears inconsistent with the trust's restrictions.””
I sat on the edge of my bed.
“What does that mean?””
“It means your mother may have deliberately prevented the transfer of certain rights to Harrington Creative. We need the complete trust instrument and the original archive schedule.””
“I have copies.””
“Then bring everything to my office this afternoon.””
I hesitated.
“Can we stop Madison's presentation?””
“We can send a formal notice disputing ownership. Whether the competition delays the event is their decision.””
“What if they ignore it?””
“Then we preserve your objection and consider further legal action.””
I looked at the dress photograph on my laptop.
“I just want my name back.””
Laura's voice softened.
“Then we'll focus on the evidence.””
At noon, Hannah and I returned to Bennett Atelier.
Evelyn was waiting.
She had prepared several boxes of old business records.
“I thought you might need these,” she said.
We spent nearly two hours examining invoices, licensing agreements, and original sketches.
Then Evelyn brought out a small black notebook.
“Your mother kept this in her private desk.””
I opened it.
The pages contained handwritten notes about clients, fabric suppliers, and design concepts.
Near the middle, I found several entries mentioning Patricia.
April 3:
Patricia asked again about the archive. I told her the original patterns are not for sale.
April 8:
Richard says I'm being unreasonable. He wants to combine the studio with Patricia's company.
April 11:
I discovered copies of three original sketches in Patricia's office. I don't know how she obtained them.
My hands began shaking.
I turned the page.
April 13:
I spoke to Daniel. The trust is now complete. Liv will receive everything when she turns twenty-one. No one else has authority to change the arrangement.
Then came the final entry.
April 16:
If Richard agrees to protect Liv, I may still be able to save our family. But if he chooses Patricia's business over our daughter, I must make sure Liv can stand on her own.
I stared at the page.
Hannah gently touched my shoulder.
“Olivia?””
I couldn't speak.
Evelyn pulled out another envelope.
“There was one more thing.””
Inside was a photograph of the original Phoenix design.
Not my version.
My mother's.
I recognized the same sculpted petals and flowing skirt.
But there were differences.
Her design was made from ivory silk, with a long embroidered train.
On the back, she'd written:
For Liv, when she is ready to create something of her own.
I stared at it.
“Mom designed this?””
Evelyn nodded.
“She started the concept years ago. She never completed it because she wanted you to have the freedom to develop your own interpretation.””
I looked at my own dress photograph.
My mother had given me the inspiration.
But I'd created the final design myself.
“Does this mean Madison can claim she designed it because Mom started the concept?””
Evelyn shook her head.
“Not automatically. Your mother left detailed records of her work and yours. The two projects are clearly connected, but they're not identical.””
I felt a small sense of relief.
Then Evelyn said something that changed everything.
“There's a reason your mother never finished the original gown.””
“Why?””
“Because she discovered Patricia had been trying to sell the concept to another fashion company.””
I stared at her.
“Which company?””
Evelyn opened the black notebook again.
She pointed to a name written on the final page.
*VANTAGE HOUSE FASHION.*
Hannah searched it on her phone.
Her eyes widened.
“Olivia…”
“What?””
“Vantage House is one of the sponsors of your competition.””
I felt my stomach drop.
Evelyn nodded.
“Your mother believed they were interested in buying her entire archive.””
“But why would they sponsor the competition?””
“Because they wanted access to emerging designers and original collections.””
I looked at the photograph.
My mother's design had been created long before the competition existed.
But now Madison was presenting my version under her name.
And one of the judges worked for the very company my mother had been afraid of.
That afternoon, Laura sent a formal ownership dispute to the competition organizers.
She also requested preservation of all submitted files and supporting documents.
At 4:20 p.m., Evelyn called me.
“Olivia, I found something else.””
“What?””
“Your mother's original archive inventory.””
“Didn't we already find that?””
“No. This is the signed original. It was hidden behind the false bottom of her desk drawer.””
My heart began racing.
“What's in it?””
“An entry concerning the Phoenix design.””
I waited.
Evelyn continued.
“Your mother registered her original concept privately years ago. But she also documented the modifications you made as you developed your own version.””
“Can you send it to Laura?””
“I can. But there's a problem.””
“What problem?””
“The inventory says the original pattern was removed from the studio on April 19.””
My mouth went dry.
“Who removed it?””
Evelyn hesitated.
“Richard.””
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
My father.
Again.
That evening, Madison posted a new video.
She was standing in front of a mirror wearing my dress.
The caption read:
Three days until my biggest moment. Some people steal attention. Others earn it.
Thousands of comments appeared beneath the video.
One person wrote:
Can't wait to see your original collection!
Another commented:
You're going to win!
I watched Madison turn slowly, showing off the dress.
Then she lifted the skirt.
A small golden label was visible inside the bodice.
*MADISON HARRINGTON — ORIGINAL DESIGNER.*
I felt sick.
I called her.
She answered on the third ring.
“What?””
“Take the label off.””
She laughed.
“Hello to you, too.””
“I'm serious.””
“So am I. The dress is mine now.””
“You know that's a lie.””
Her voice dropped.
“You really don't understand, do you?””
“Then explain it.””
“Mom says the competition has already been handled.””
I froze.
“What does Patricia have to do with the judges?””
Madison went quiet.
Then she laughed nervously.
“Nothing. Forget I said that.””
“Madison.””
“I have to go.””
She hung up.
I immediately called Laura and told her what Madison had said.
Laura was silent for a moment.
“Don't contact her again about this. Save the call details, and write down her exact words.””
“I will.””
“Also, Olivia, I received something from the competition.””
“What?””
“They've confirmed that a representative from Vantage House requested a private review of your mother's original archive.””
My heart sank.
“Why?””
“They haven't explained.””
I looked at the photograph of my mother on my desk.
Then Laura added:
“There's something else. The competition has received a request to interview both you and Madison before Saturday's presentation.””
“Together?””
“Yes.””
I closed my eyes.
“What are they going to ask?””
“I don't know. But I strongly suspect they're investigating more than a stolen dress.””
Just then, another email appeared on my screen.
It was from Vantage House.
The subject line read:
*CONFIDENTIAL — CATHERINE BENNETT ARCHIVE ACQUISITION.*
I opened it.
The first paragraph mentioned a private contract signed by my mother.
The second mentioned Patricia Harrington.
And the third contained a sentence that made my heart stop.
We believe the original collection may have been unlawfully transferred following Catherine Bennett's death.
I read it again.
Then I saw the attached document.
It contained a list of twenty-seven original designs.
Twenty-six belonged to my mother.
The twenty-seventh was mine.
And beside its name was a proposed purchase price of $1.2 million.
May you like
But the buyer wasn't Madison.
It was Patricia.
