Chapter 3: The Woman Who Knew Her Mother
Nia read the email six times.
Isabelle Monroe.
The woman whose name appeared on fashion magazine covers. The woman who had dressed celebrities for award ceremonies. The woman whose designs sold for more money than Nia's entire family earned in a year.
She wanted to talk to her.
Nia looked at the clock.
4:37 p.m.
She typed a response.
*Nia:* Thank you for contacting me. I would really like to know what my mother left with you.
The reply arrived almost immediately.
*Isabelle:* Can you come to Monroe Atelier tomorrow at 10 a.m.? Bring anything your mother left you.
Nia stared at the message.
Tomorrow.
She had school.
She had a nearly impossible dress to finish.
And she had no idea what this woman wanted.
But she couldn't ignore it.
*Nia:* I'll be there.
The next morning, Nia borrowed Maya's mother's car ride into the city.
Monroe Atelier occupied an elegant building on Fifth Avenue. Tall glass windows displayed gowns that looked more like sculptures than clothing.
Nia stood outside for several seconds, staring at the gold lettering above the entrance.
She wore black trousers, a simple white blouse, and the only blazer she owned.
Her sketchbook was tucked beneath her arm.
Maya had insisted on accompanying her.
“Just remember,” Maya said, adjusting Nia's collar, “you're not here to beg anyone for anything.””
Nia nodded.
“I'm just here to find out what my mother left behind.””
Inside, the receptionist looked up.
“Good morning. Can I help you?””
“I'm Nia Carter. I have an appointment with Ms. Monroe.””
The receptionist's fingers stopped above the keyboard.
“Carter?””
“Yes.””
She exchanged a quick glance with another employee.
“Of course. Please have a seat.””
Five minutes later, an assistant appeared.
“Ms. Carter? Ms. Monroe is ready for you.””
Nia followed her through a long hallway lined with framed photographs of runway shows.
At the end was a large office with floor-to-ceiling windows.
A silver-haired woman stood beside the desk.
She wore a black tailored suit and a delicate gold necklace.
When she saw Nia, her expression softened.
“Nia.””
“Ms. Monroe.””
Isabelle stepped forward.
“Please. Call me Isabelle.””
She studied Nia's face.
“You have your mother's eyes.””
Nia swallowed.
“Everyone says that.””
Isabelle gestured toward a chair.
“Sit down. I imagine you have many questions.””
Nia placed the wooden box on the desk.
“I found this in my mother's belongings. There was a photograph of you.””
Isabelle opened the box carefully.
When she saw Elaine's handwriting, she closed her eyes.
“Your mother was an extraordinary woman.””
“Did you know her?””
Isabelle laughed softly.
“Know her? Elaine was my closest friend for nearly twenty years.””
Nia looked surprised.
“My mother never told me.””
“She didn't talk about her career much after you were born.””
“Why?””
Isabelle sat opposite her.
“Because she believed she had made the right choice. She had an opportunity to move to Paris, work with an internationally recognized design house, and eventually establish her own label. But you were very young, and your father had already left.””
Nia looked down.
She barely remembered her father.
“He left when I was four.””
“I know. Elaine raised you almost entirely on her own.””
Isabelle opened a drawer and removed a thick cream envelope.
“Before she became ill, your mother asked me to keep something safe.””
Nia's breathing changed.
“What?””
Isabelle placed the envelope on the desk.
“An agreement. And a letter.””
Nia opened the envelope.
The first document bore the name of the Elaine Carter Legacy Design Trust.
It explained that Elaine had established a small educational fund using royalties from several patented garment-construction techniques she had developed during her career.
Nia's eyes moved down the page.
The trust had been created specifically to support her education and future design work.
There was enough money to cover four years of fashion school, provided she pursued a recognized design qualification.
Nia covered her mouth.
“Why didn't anyone tell me?””
Isabelle's expression became serious.
“Because your stepmother was named temporary administrator of your mother's estate after Elaine passed away.””
Nia went still.
“Vanessa?””
Isabelle nodded.
“Elaine trusted the family to protect you. Unfortunately, I don't believe everyone honored that responsibility.””
Nia stared at the document.
“Are you saying Vanessa knew about this?””
“I'm saying the trust was supposed to be administered for your benefit. When I contacted the estate several years ago, I was told you had no interest in fashion and that the funds were being preserved.””
Nia felt cold.
“No interest?””
Isabelle shook her head.
“Your mother specifically instructed that you be given access when you turned seventeen.””
Nia's birthday had been three months earlier.
She had received nothing.
Not a letter.
Not a phone call.
Not even a mention.
Isabelle opened another folder.
“There is also a second matter.””
She removed a photograph.
It showed Elaine standing beside an unfinished gown.
Nia recognized the silhouette immediately.
It was almost identical to the design in her mother's hidden sketch.
“The gown,” Nia whispered.
Isabelle nodded.
“Your mother called it the Phoenix Collection. She believed a garment should not simply make someone beautiful. It should remind them of what they survived.””
Nia looked at the photograph.
The design had a dramatic sculptural train, metallic embroidery, and translucent layers.
Exactly like her drawing.
“Where did she get the idea?””
Isabelle smiled sadly.
“She designed it after recovering from a difficult period in her life. She said the first version was never meant to be worn by anyone until the person wearing it understood what it represented.””
Nia touched the photograph.
“Did she finish it?””
“No. She became ill before she could complete the collection.””
The room fell silent.
Nia's eyes filled.
“I'm trying to make something similar for the competition.””
Isabelle looked up sharply.
“You are?””
Nia nodded and opened her sketchbook.
She showed her the design.
Isabelle stared at it for a long moment.
Then she stood.
“Where did you learn this construction technique?””
“My mother taught me some of it. The rest I figured out.””
Isabelle examined the sketch more closely.
“Look at this seam placement.””
Nia leaned forward.
“What about it?””
“It's based on a technique Elaine developed herself. Most designers would struggle to reproduce it.””
Nia smiled faintly.
“She showed me when I was little.””
Isabelle looked at her.
“Your mother would have been very proud.””
For a moment, Nia forgot about Vanessa, Brianna, and the stolen gown.
She was simply a daughter sitting in a room with someone who remembered her mother.
Then Isabelle placed another document on the desk.
“This is an official notice regarding the trust. I want our legal department to review the administration records. If money intended for your education was improperly used, we will pursue the matter.””
Nia looked at the paper.
“I don't want trouble.””
Isabelle's expression became firm.
“Protecting what your mother left you is not causing trouble.””
Nia nodded slowly.
Before she could respond, Isabelle asked about the competition.
“Are you still entering?””
“Yes.””
“With the gown you showed me?””
“I'm trying to finish it.””
“How much time do you have?””
“Three days.””
Isabelle raised an eyebrow.
“Three days?””
“I lost my original entry.””
“What happened?””
Nia hesitated.
She had promised herself she wouldn't cry in front of strangers.
But when Isabelle gently asked, “Did someone take it from you?”” the words came out.
“My stepsister wanted it. My stepmother hit me when I refused to give it to her. They took it anyway.””
Isabelle's expression hardened.
“Did you report the assault?””
“No.””
“And the dress?””
“It's still at home. My stepsister is planning to wear it.””
“Does she know it is registered under your name?””
“Yes.””
Isabelle stood and walked toward the window.
“Your mother spent years teaching me that talent should never be confused with ownership. Someone who wears a garment does not become its creator.””
She turned.
“Can you prove you made the dress?””
“I have photographs of every stage. I also have the registration confirmation and my original sketches.””
“Good. Keep everything.””
Nia nodded.
Isabelle returned to her desk.
“Now, tell me what you need to finish your new design.””
Nia hesitated.
“Fabric. Some structural materials. And time.””
Isabelle smiled.
“I can help with the first two. The third one is up to you.””
She called her studio manager.
Within minutes, a selection of specialty fabrics was brought into the office.
Metallic mesh.
Silk organza.
Hand-dyed translucent fabric.
Nia touched the materials carefully.
“These are beautiful.””
“They're from our archive,” Isabelle explained.
“Your mother helped develop several of these treatments.””
Nia looked up.
“You're giving them to me?””
“I'm allowing you to use them. There is a difference.””
Nia laughed for the first time that morning.
“Thank you.””
Isabelle handed her a small card.
“There's one more thing. The competition's judges have requested that all contestants bring proof of original construction. If anyone challenges your authorship, I want you to have documentation.””
Nia slipped the card into her sketchbook.
“I understand.””
As she stood to leave, Isabelle stopped her.
“Nia?””
“Yes?””
“Don't make your design smaller because you're afraid someone might not understand it.””
Nia nodded.
Then Isabelle added quietly:
“Elaine made that mistake once. I hope you won't.””
At 2:30 p.m., Nia returned home carrying two large bags of fabric.
She had barely entered the hallway when Brianna appeared.
“What are those?””
“Fabric.””
Brianna rolled her eyes.
“Obviously. What are you making now?””
“Something for the competition.””
Brianna laughed.
“You still think you're going to compete?””
“Yes.””
“With what? Your imaginary dress?””
Nia continued toward the stairs.
Brianna followed.
“By the way, I tried your dress on this morning.””
Nia stopped.
“Take it off.””
“Relax. It fits perfectly.””
“Brianna, that's my competition gown.””
“And I'm wearing it to my graduation dinner.””
“You can't.””
“Watch me.””
Vanessa emerged from the living room.
“What's happening?””
“Your daughter is threatening me again,” Brianna complained.
Nia stared at her.
“I haven't threatened anyone.””
Vanessa pointed toward the bags.
“What are those?””
“Materials for my new design.””
Vanessa laughed without humor.
“Where did you get the money?””
“That's none of your business.””
“Everything that happens in this house is my business.””
Nia tightened her grip on the bags.
“I'm going upstairs.””
Vanessa stepped in front of her.
“Not until you explain where you got those materials.””
“I don't owe you an explanation.””
Brianna smirked.
“Maybe she found a rich boyfriend.””
Nia looked directly at her.
“Maybe I found someone who respects my work.””
Brianna's smile faded.
Vanessa's eyes narrowed.
“Who?””
“Someone who knew my mother.””
For a moment, Vanessa looked genuinely alarmed.
Then she recovered.
“Your mother has been gone for years. Stop using her name to make yourself important.””
Nia said nothing.
She walked upstairs, entered her bedroom, and locked the door.
She placed the fabric on the table.
Then she opened the laptop.
An email from Isabelle was waiting.
*Subject: One More Thing Elaine Asked Me to Keep.*
Nia opened it.
Attached was a scanned document dated three months before her mother's death.
It contained Elaine's signature and a photograph of a sealed design portfolio.
The message beneath it read:
Your mother left one final instruction. She asked me to release the complete Phoenix Collection only when you were ready to create something of your own.
Nia's hands began to shake.
She clicked the attachment.
The first page was a sketch.
The second was a construction diagram.
The third was a list of names.
At the bottom was a handwritten note from Elaine.
If Nia ever creates the Phoenix gown, tell her the truth about the woman who inspired it.
Nia stared at the final line.
The woman's name was printed beneath the note.
*Vanessa Carter.*
Nia stopped breathing.
Why had her mother designed the most important collection of her life around the very woman who had spent years making Nia feel unwanted?
And what had happened between them before Elaine died?
She picked up her phone and called Isabelle.
The designer answered immediately.
“Isabelle, I need to ask you something.””
“Of course.””
“Why is Vanessa's name on my mother's Phoenix Collection?””
There was a long silence.
Then Isabelle spoke in a voice Nia had never heard before.
“Because, sweetheart, Vanessa wasn't always your enemy.””
Nia gripped the phone.
“What do you mean?””
Isabelle exhaled.
“Your mother and Vanessa shared a secret. And if your stepmother discovers that you've seen those documents, she may do everything in her power to stop you from entering that competition.””
At that exact moment, someone tried Nia's bedroom doorknob.
Once.
Twice.
Then Vanessa's voice came through the wood.
“Nia. Open this door.””
Nia looked at the document.
Vanessa knocked again.
“NOW.””
May you like
And for the first time, Nia realized that the stolen dress might be the smallest part of what her stepmother had taken from her.
The next chapters can build toward the secret behind Elaine and Vanessa, the competition showdown, and the truth about who really deserves the Phoenix Collection.
