Chapter 4: The Secret My Father Was Afraid to Tell
My father's message remained on my screen as the lights brightened over the runway.
Your mother signed something before she died, and Vanessa has been hiding it from us both.
I read the words until they blurred.
My mother had been gone for six years. In all that time, Dad had never mentioned a contract, an agreement, or anything that might explain why Vanessa suddenly became so interested in the things Elena had left behind.
I looked across the exhibition hall.
Vanessa sat in the front row beside Brianna, smiling at a woman wearing an expensive emerald necklace. She looked relaxed, almost bored, as though the dispute over my dress were nothing more than an inconvenient interruption.
But her fingers kept twisting her wedding ring.
She was nervous.
And for the first time, I knew I wasn't the only one who had something to lose.
I stepped into the corridor and called Dad.
He answered immediately.
"Nia, thank goodness.""
"What contract are you talking about?""
There was a long silence.
"Where are you?"" he asked.
"At the showcase. Dad, stop avoiding the question.""
"I can't explain everything over the phone.""
"Then explain enough.""
I heard a door close on his end.
"Your mother had a business partner before she died," he said.
"Someone who helped her establish a small design studio. I knew she was working on something important, but I never understood how far she'd taken it.""
I leaned against the wall.
"Mom had a business?""
"She was more than a seamstress, Nia. She had ambitions. She wanted to build a fashion label, and she was developing a collection when she got sick.""
My throat tightened.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because I thought it had ended when she died.""
"You thought?""
He exhaled.
"After the funeral, Vanessa offered to help organize the paperwork. She said your mother's studio had debts and that the equipment needed to be sold. I was overwhelmed, Nia. I had you to take care of, bills to pay, and a house that suddenly felt empty.""
"So you let Vanessa handle everything.""
"Yes.""
"And the money in Mom's envelope?""
His silence answered before he did.
"I never saw that envelope," he said.
"Vanessa told me your mother had left no separate savings for you.""
My fingers tightened around the phone.
"You told me the money went toward household expenses.""
"I thought it had.""
"You didn't even check?""
"Nia, I know how that sounds.""
"It sounds like you let someone else erase my mother.""
He said nothing.
For six years, I had carried the memory of my mother like a fragile object, protecting the pieces I still had. Vanessa had boxed up her books, removed her photographs, and taken over her sewing room. I'd thought those were the ordinary cruelties of a stepmother who wanted to claim a house.
Now I wondered whether she'd been clearing away evidence.
"What exactly did Mom sign?"" I asked.
"I don't know. But last night, I found a folder in Vanessa's desk.""
My heart jumped.
"You went through her things?""
"I was looking for the insurance papers. I found documents with your mother's name, and when Vanessa came home, she took the folder from me.""
"What was in it?""
"A letter from a lawyer. Something about intellectual property, design rights, and a trust established for you.""
I closed my eyes.
A trust.
"Where is the folder now?""
"Vanessa has it.""
"Then get it.""
"I tried. She told me I had no right to interfere.""
I almost laughed.
"She tells everyone that when they get too close to the truth.""
"Nia, listen to me. There's something else. The letter mentioned a deadline connected to your eighteenth birthday. I couldn't read the entire document before she took it away.""
I looked at the clock above the corridor.
My birthday was less than three months away.
"What happens when I turn eighteen?""
"I don't know.""
"Then find out.""
"Nia—"
"No, Dad. I've spent two years asking you to protect me. Every time, you asked me to be patient, understanding, and grateful. I'm done being patient.""
My voice trembled, but I kept going.
"If Mom left something for me, I'm going to find it. And if Vanessa stole it, I want you to stop pretending this is just a family disagreement.""
I ended the call.
For a moment, I stood alone in the corridor, listening to the muffled applause from the exhibition hall.
Then Mrs. Alvarez appeared.
"Claire is looking for you. The panel is ready to review your design.""
I wiped my cheeks.
"Did you know my mother was a designer?""
Mrs. Alvarez studied my face.
"Not officially. But I remember Elena. She had an extraordinary eye for structure. She used to bring sketches to the shop when she needed advice on fabric suppliers.""
"You knew her?""
"Not well, but enough to know she never thought small.""
I swallowed.
"Apparently, she left behind a business.""
Mrs. Alvarez's eyes widened.
"That would explain something.""
"What?""
"About six months after your mother died, a woman came into my shop asking whether Elena had ever shared her patterns with anyone. She said she was helping settle your mother's affairs.""
"Vanessa?""
"I didn't know her name at the time. She asked very specific questions about a collection Elena had been developing. When I said I didn't have any of the original patterns, she seemed relieved.""
The corridor suddenly felt colder.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"I didn't know who she was, Nia. And I had no reason to think she was doing anything wrong.""
I looked through the glass doors at Vanessa.
She was laughing now, one hand resting on Brianna's shoulder.
"She knew about Mom's work," I whispered.
"She knew what she was taking.""
Mrs. Alvarez squeezed my hand.
"Then let's make sure she can't take anything else.""
We returned to the exhibition hall.
The preliminary presentations had ended, and the judges were reviewing the disputed entries. Daniel Brooks stood beside Evelyn Price, the legendary designer whose foundation funded the competition.
Evelyn was smaller than I had expected, with silver hair cut neatly at her jaw and a black suit that looked simple until I noticed the exquisite stitching along the lapels.
She examined my dress without touching it.
"Who developed the color treatment?"" she asked.
"I did.""
"And the original silhouette?""
"Also me.""
"Why did you change the design?""
I told her about the paint.
Her expression didn't change, but she glanced at the blue pigment embedded beneath the newer layers.
"You could have abandoned it.""
"I wanted to.""
"What stopped you?""
I thought of my mother's voice.
"She taught me that making something beautiful doesn't mean pretending nothing bad happened to it.""
For the first time, Evelyn smiled.
"That's an interesting answer.""
She looked toward Daniel.
"Show me the other submission.""
A staff member brought Brianna's original application photographs to the table.
Evelyn studied them for several seconds.
Then she placed the photographs beside my sketches.
"These designs share more than a silhouette," she said.
"The construction lines are identical.""
Vanessa rose from her seat.
"Ms. Price, with respect, this is a family matter that has been exaggerated.""
Evelyn didn't look at her.
"Mrs. Vale, do you have documentation establishing that your daughter created this garment?""
Vanessa approached the table with a polished smile.
"We have a signed agreement confirming the design belongs to our family.""
"Who drafted it?""
"Our legal adviser.""
"May I see it?""
Vanessa hesitated.
Then she handed Daniel a thin folder.
He read the first page. His expression tightened.
Evelyn extended her hand.
Daniel passed the document to her.
She scanned the signature block, then looked at Vanessa.
"Mrs. Vale, this agreement does not establish that you created the garment. It states that you have the right to represent the design commercially.""
Vanessa's smile disappeared.
Evelyn turned to me.
"Ms. Carter, do you recognize this signature?""
She placed the page in front of me.
At the bottom, beneath a paragraph about design rights, was a name written in elegant handwriting.
Elena Carter.
My mother's signature.
But beneath it, in smaller print, were words that made my blood run cold.
May you like
*Beneficiary: Nia Elena Carter.*
And someone had crossed out my name.
