Chapter 9: The Last Thing Her Mother Left
Nia reached home shortly after nine that evening.
Her father was waiting outside the house, standing beneath the porch light with his hands shoved into his coat pockets. He looked older than she remembered, his shoulders bent and his face drawn with exhaustion.
When he saw her, he stepped forward.
“Nia.””
She stopped at the bottom of the steps.
For several seconds, neither of them moved.
Then her father opened his arms.
Nia wanted to embrace him. She wanted to tell him how frightened she had been, how many nights she had cried alone, and how much she had wished he would notice what Vanessa was doing.
Instead, she remained still.
“You don't get to act like nothing happened,” she said.
Her father lowered his arms.
“I know.””
“You let me believe Mom had been ordinary. You let Vanessa laugh at everything I made. You let her take my dress.””
His eyes filled.
“I know.””
“Then why are you here now?””
“Because I finally understand that protecting you by keeping you ignorant was just another way of leaving you alone.””
Nia looked away.
It wasn't an apology that could repair six years of silence. But it was the first honest answer he had given her.
“Show me the basement.””
He unlocked the front door.
Inside, the house was unusually quiet. Brianna's shoes were scattered beside the staircase, and Vanessa's handbag lay open on the kitchen counter.
Nia followed her father down the narrow stairs.
The basement smelled of dust, damp cardboard, and old paint. Boxes were stacked against the walls, many labeled in her mother's handwriting.
Some had been torn open.
Others had been emptied onto the floor.
Nia stopped beside a broken storage box.
Inside lay scraps of fabric, damaged photographs, and a sewing pattern with blackened edges.
Someone had burned it.
Her father crouched beside her.
“Vanessa started destroying things this afternoon. I stopped her when I realized what she was doing, but she'd already ruined several boxes.””
Nia picked up a charred piece of paper.
Her mother's handwriting was still visible.
Phoenix — final construction notes.
She pressed it against her chest.
“She knew.””
“Yes,” her father said.
“She knew what these designs meant.””
Nia stood and approached the locked cabinet at the back of the room.
Her father handed her a small key.
“Your mother gave me this before she died. I kept it because I promised her I would never let anyone destroy the original contract.””
“Why didn't you tell me?””
He swallowed.
“Because Vanessa told me the trust had been dissolved. I believed her until I found a letter from the lawyer who created it.””
He unlocked the cabinet.
Inside were old fashion books, a wooden sewing box, and a metal filing case.
Nia recognized the books immediately. She had spent childhood afternoons leafing through their pages while her mother worked.
She pulled out a thick volume on French couture.
Its spine was loose.
Nia carefully opened the cover.
A folded document slipped into her hands.
The paper was yellowed but intact. At the top, in bold letters, were the words:
*EVELYN CARTER DESIGN TRUST — ORIGINAL BENEFICIARY AGREEMENT.*
Her name appeared beneath them.
Nia read the first paragraph, then the second.
The agreement confirmed that Evelyn's original designs, patterns, and unpublished collections belonged to the trust. When Nia turned eighteen, she would become its sole beneficiary and gain control of the intellectual property.
A separate clause prohibited anyone from selling, licensing, or transferring the designs without her written consent.
Nia looked at her father.
“Vanessa couldn't legally give my mother's work to Richard.””
“No.””
“Then why did she do it?””
Her father stared at the document.
“Because Richard promised her a partnership in his company. She believed that once the designs became profitable, she could claim a share of the business.””
Nia's stomach turned.
“She sold Mom's work for money.””
“And she thought she could keep you from finding out.””
A sound came from the stairs.
Both of them turned.
Vanessa stood at the top, wearing a black blouse and holding her phone.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then she descended slowly.
“So,” she said, looking at the document in Nia's hands.
“You found it.””
Nia stepped backward.
“Don't come any closer.””
Vanessa ignored her.
“Your mother was always good at making herself look like a victim. She wanted everyone to believe she was some misunderstood genius.””
“She was a designer,” Nia replied.
“You stole from her.””
Vanessa laughed sharply.
“I worked for her. I organized her accounts. I dealt with suppliers while she spent hours obsessing over tiny stitches. I helped build that business.””
“You copied her sketches and sent them to Richard Vale.””
“I gave him concepts.””
“You stole her designs.””
Vanessa's expression hardened.
“Do you have any idea what it was like working for your mother? Every compliment went to her. Every opportunity belonged to her. I was the person cleaning up the mess while she played artist.””
Nia stared at her.
“So you decided to take everything she created?””
“I decided to take what I deserved.””
Her father stepped between them.
“You had no right to destroy her work.””
Vanessa turned on him.
“And you had no right to keep me trapped in this house while you mourned a woman who'd been dead for years!””
“You chose to stay.””
“Because I had a plan!””
The words echoed through the basement.
Vanessa realized what she'd said.
Her face changed.
Nia held up the contract.
“Richard promised you a partnership, didn't he? That's why you took the dress. You thought if Brianna wore it, people would connect our family's work to Vale Couture.””
Vanessa's eyes narrowed.
“Brianna has nothing to do with this.””
“Then why did you sign a false statement claiming she designed my gown?””
“Because I was trying to protect my daughter!””
“And what about me?””
Vanessa looked at her with cold contempt.
“You were never supposed to become part of this business. Your mother should have left everything to someone who understood its value.””
Nia felt the words settle inside her.
For years, she had tried to earn Vanessa's approval. She had worked harder, spoken softer, and hidden her ambitions whenever they threatened to make someone uncomfortable.
But Vanessa had never wanted her to succeed.
She had wanted her to remain small enough to control.
Nia's voice steadied.
“You don't get to decide what I'm worth.””
Vanessa lunged for the contract.
Nia pulled it away.
Her father caught Vanessa's arm.
“Stop!””
Vanessa struggled, knocking a box from the shelf. Old photographs scattered across the floor.
One landed near Nia's shoe.
It showed Evelyn standing beside Richard Vale and Vanessa at a fashion exhibition. The three of them smiled beneath a banner announcing an upcoming couture collection.
On the back, someone had written a date.
Six days before Evelyn's fatal car accident.
Nia picked it up.
“Dad, look.””
He examined the photograph.
His face drained of color.
“That was the last event your mother attended before she died.””
Vanessa stopped struggling.
For the first time, fear replaced anger in her eyes.
Nia looked at her stepmother.
“What happened that night?””
Vanessa said nothing.
Her father released her arm.
“Nia, we need to leave this room and call Daniel.””
But Nia wasn't moving.
The photograph showed Evelyn holding a folder beneath her arm. Richard stood close beside her, his hand resting on the folder's edge.
On the back, beneath the date, were four handwritten words.
The original is secured.
Nia turned the photograph over again.
A small symbol had been drawn in the corner: a circle surrounding a butterfly.
The same symbol appeared on the inside cover of the Phoenix sketch her mother had left behind.
It wasn't a decoration.
It was a mark identifying the original collection.
Nia reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.
“I need to photograph this.””
Vanessa suddenly shoved past her father and grabbed the picture.
She tore it in half.
Nia gasped.
“Vanessa!””
Her stepmother dropped the pieces onto the floor.
“You don't understand what you're doing. If you show that photograph to anyone, you'll destroy more than my life.””
“You destroyed Mom's work!””
“I was trying to save myself!””
The confession hung in the air.
Her father stared at Vanessa.
“You knew Richard was using Evelyn's designs.””
Vanessa's eyes filled with furious tears.
“I knew he wanted them. I didn't know what he'd do after he got them.””
Nia's pulse quickened.
“After he got them?””
Vanessa covered her mouth.
Too late.
Nia stepped closer.
“What did Richard do?””
Vanessa looked toward the basement stairs.
For a moment, Nia thought she might run.
Instead, her stepmother whispered, “The night your mother died, she was driving to meet a lawyer. She had the original contract with her.””
Nia felt the world tilt.
“You said it was a car accident.””
“It was.””
“Then why are you afraid?””
Vanessa's face crumpled.
“Because Richard was the last person who called her.””
Nobody moved.
Then Nia's phone vibrated.
A message from Margot appeared.
The competition has received a new submission from Vale Couture. They claim the Phoenix collection was designed by Richard's late business partner.
A second message followed.
They're presenting the collection tomorrow night.
Nia looked at the contract in her hands.
Tomorrow night was the competition's final showcase.
Richard wasn't merely trying to discredit her.
May you like
He was preparing to claim her mother's entire collection in front of the fashion world.
And unless Nia could prove the truth before the final judging, the designs Evelyn had spent her life creating could disappear forever.
