Chapter 6 - The Woman Who Stole My Childhood
I listened to my mother's warning three times.
Each time, my chest hurt more.
Vanessa.
My mother had known about her before she died.
I looked at Dad.
His face was pale.
"Did you know Vanessa back then?"
He shook his head.
"Not personally."
Mercer leaned forward.
"Elizabeth had concerns about the Whitmore family's attempts to influence Westbridge. Vanessa was involved in her father's business dealings."
I felt sick.
"So meeting Dad wasn't an accident?"
Mercer took a careful breath.
"I can't prove when she decided to pursue him. But the trust records indicate she had a financial reason to seek influence over this family."
Dad stared at the floor.
I could see him replaying every moment.
Every dinner.
Every vacation.
Every time Vanessa pretended to care about me.
"She approached me at a charity fundraiser," he whispered.
I remembered him telling me that story.
Vanessa had supposedly spilled wine on his jacket.
They laughed.
Exchanged numbers.
Started dating.
A charming coincidence.
Now it sounded like something else.
Thomas looked at Mercer.
"Why are you representing her?"
Mercer lowered his head.
"Because I made a mistake."
Dad looked up sharply.
"Explain."
"After Elizabeth died, I withdrew from the investigation. Years later, Charles Whitmore approached me about a legitimate redevelopment proposal."
He paused.
"He assured me the Bennett family supported it."
Thomas shook his head.
"And you believed him?"
"I should have verified everything independently."
Mercer looked at me.
"When I discovered the disputed signature last week, I began investigating."
"Why didn't you report it immediately?" I asked.
"I contacted Thomas yesterday. I also preserved the transaction records."
His expression filled with regret.
"I'm sorry I didn't recognize what was happening sooner."
I looked away.
Adults kept telling me they were sorry.
But apologies couldn't give back the years Vanessa stole.
I wanted more than regret.
I wanted the truth.
"Then help us prove it," I said.
Mercer nodded.
"I will."
By afternoon, Thomas had arranged for a forensic document examiner to review the disputed signatures.
Dad retained a separate attorney to protect my interests.
And I made a decision.
I was going back to Westbridge Academy.
Not to attend classes.
To speak with Headmistress Margaret Ellis.
Dad offered to accompany me.
I shook my head.
"I want you there, but I need to be the one asking questions."
He agreed.
Mrs. Ellis welcomed us into her office.
She looked exhausted.
"Emily, I'm deeply sorry about the confusion surrounding the scholarship announcement."
I sat across from her.
"Who told you I wanted to transfer?"
She folded her hands.
"Vanessa submitted the application as your parent representative."
"Did you ever speak to me?"
Her expression changed.
"No."
"Then why did you accept it?"
She looked down.
"Because Mrs. Bennett assured us your father supported the decision."
Dad leaned forward.
"I never did."
Mrs. Ellis nodded.
"We now understand that."
I thought about something else.
"Why was Brittany always allowed to attend private leadership events while I was excluded?"
Mrs. Ellis hesitated.
"Your stepmother said you preferred to avoid large gatherings."
My eyes burned.
Another lie.
Another little piece of my life Vanessa had controlled.
"I never said that."
Mrs. Ellis looked genuinely distressed.
"Emily, I owe you an apology."
I took a breath.
"Then please help me."
She nodded immediately.
"What do you need?"
"Any records showing what Vanessa submitted about me."
Mrs. Ellis promised to preserve the school files and cooperate with our attorneys.
Then she surprised me.
"There's something else."
She opened a drawer.
Inside was an envelope.
"Your mother asked the academy to deliver this to you on your eighteenth birthday."
I stared at it.
Another letter.
"Why didn't Thomas know?"
"Because it wasn't part of the legal trust."
Mrs. Ellis smiled sadly.
"It was personal."
She handed it to me.
My name was written on the front.
I wanted to open it immediately.
But something stopped me.
My birthday was still three weeks away.
Mom had chosen that date for a reason.
I slipped it into my bag.
"I'll wait."
Mrs. Ellis smiled.
"I think she'd appreciate that."
As we left her office, I heard familiar laughter in the hallway.
Brittany.
She stood near the trophy display with three friends.
When she saw me, her smile vanished.
"Emily?"
Her friends looked between us.
One girl, Madison, stepped forward.
"Are you okay? We heard you were leaving school."
I shook my head.
"I'm not leaving."
Brittany folded her arms.
"That's not what Mom said."
I looked directly at her.
"Your mother doesn't get to decide anymore."
Her friends went silent.
Brittany's face turned red.
"You always make everything about yourself."
I felt the familiar urge to apologize.
To lower my eyes.
To escape.
But this time, I didn't.
"She destroyed my dress, Brittany."
Madison gasped.
I continued.
"You laughed while I cried."
Brittany glanced toward her friends.
"That's not what happened."
I took out my phone.
Dad had provided a copy of the dressing-room security recording from that night.
The camera had captured the entrance and wardrobe area.
It showed the scissors.
The dresses.
The container.
And Brittany laughing.
I didn't play it publicly.
I simply looked at her.
"We both know the truth."
For once, she had nothing to say.
Madison stepped away from her.
"That's horrible."
Brittany's eyes filled.
But I couldn't tell whether she was ashamed or simply embarrassed.
As I walked away, she called after me.
"Emily, wait!"
I stopped.
She hurried toward me.
Her voice dropped.
"There's something you need to know about my grandfather."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
She glanced around nervously.
"Mom told me never to mention it."
I stared at her.
"Then why are you telling me?"
Brittany swallowed.
"Because last night I heard her talking to him."
"About what?"
"She said the old plan had failed."
My heart hammered.
Brittany moved closer.
"And Grandpa told her not to worry."
She began shaking.
"He said they still had one way to get the land."
I grabbed the strap of my bag.
"What way?"
Her eyes filled with tears.
"By making sure you never reach your eighteenth birthday as the person legally in control."
I stepped backward.
"What does that mean?"
Brittany whispered the answer.
"I don't know."
Then she looked toward the parking lot.
May you like
"But Grandpa is coming here today."
And at that exact moment, a black limousine pulled through the school gates.
