Chapter 3
"Ownership transfer?"
My father repeated the words slowly.
Mom reached toward the phone.
"Marcus, hang up."
He stepped away.
"No."
Mrs. Carter spoke carefully.
"Mr. Bennett, the application includes an intellectual property assignment. It identifies Vanessa as the sole owner of the design and transfers certain commercial rights to a sponsoring company."
I felt dizzy.
"Commercial rights?"
Dad looked at me.
Mrs. Carter continued.
"If selected, the design can be used in a limited production collection under the terms of the agreement."
Vanessa whispered, "That's not what they told me."
Mom spun toward her.
"Be quiet."
I stared at them.
My dress wasn't just an application anymore.
They had tried to sell it.
Dad's voice became dangerously calm.
"Who signed the assignment?"
"Vanessa and Claire," Mrs. Carter answered.
"Was Maya informed?"
A pause.
"The form states that Maya is not the creator."
I swallowed hard.
Dad thanked Mrs. Carter and asked her to preserve every document.
She agreed to suspend the entry while the matter was investigated.
When the call ended, silence filled the room.
I looked at my mother.
"You signed away something I made?"
Mom rubbed her forehead.
"That isn't what happened."
"Then what happened?"
She glanced at Vanessa.
"I was trying to save your sister."
Dad pulled out a chair.
"Sit down and explain everything."
Mom refused.
"I won't be interrogated in my own home."
Dad looked at her.
"This is Maya's home too."
I had never seen my mother so furious.
She turned to me.
"Do you understand what you've done? Vanessa's reputation could be ruined."
I felt something inside me finally go cold.
"What about mine?"
"You aren't established yet."
"Because I'm seventeen?"
"Because you don't understand the real world!"
Dad stepped between us.
"Claire, stop."
Mom grabbed her handbag.
"I need some air."
She walked out.
Vanessa hurried after her.
Neither one apologized.
I watched the front door close.
Then I sat down because my legs wouldn't hold me.
Dad knelt beside my chair.
"Look at me, sweetheart."
I tried.
My tears blurred his face.
"Are they going to take my design?"
"Not if I can help it."
"What if nobody believes me?"
He held my hands.
"Then we'll show them the truth."
I wanted to believe him.
But I knew how easily my mother could convince people of things.
She could turn a lie into something that sounded reasonable.
She had been doing it for years.
That night, Dad helped me gather evidence.
I showed him my sketchbooks.
The original dated drawings.
Photographs of each stage of construction.
Receipts for fabric, crystals, and thread.
Videos I had recorded while sewing.
He watched one of them twice.
In it, I was sitting on my bedroom floor, smiling proudly while holding the unfinished dress.
The timestamp was from three months earlier.
Dad's eyes became wet.
"I didn't know how much work you put into this."
I shrugged.
"You were working."
He shook his head.
"That's not an excuse."
He watched another video.
In the background, Mom's voice could be heard calling me downstairs.
Then my younger voice answered.
"Coming, Mom! I'm almost finished with my design!"
Dad stopped the recording.
"That proves she knew."
I nodded.
It hurt more than I expected.
She had known from the beginning.
Before midnight, Dad emailed copies of the evidence to Mrs. Carter.
He also contacted a lawyer named Rachel Monroe.
Rachel was an old family friend who specialized in business disputes.
She agreed to speak with us the next morning.
I finally went upstairs around one.
But I couldn't sleep.
My phone kept buzzing.
Vanessa had posted a photograph from the celebration.
It showed me wearing my transformed gown.
Her caption read:
"Some people will do anything to steal another woman's moment."
I stared at the screen.
Then I read the comments.
People were confused.
Some complimented my dress.
Others asked why Vanessa looked upset.
A few defended her without knowing anything.
My hands shook.
I wanted to respond.
I wanted to tell everyone exactly what she had done.
But Dad had asked me not to post anything until we spoke with Rachel.
So I took screenshots.
Then I noticed a message from an unfamiliar number.
"You're not the first girl Vanessa stole from."
I sat upright.
Another message appeared.
"And your mother knows more than you think."
My heart hammered.
"Who is this?" I typed.
The response came immediately.
"My name is Tasha Reed. I used to work with Vanessa."
I stared at the screen.
Then Tasha sent a photograph.
It showed Vanessa standing beside a beautiful emerald-green evening gown.
The image appeared to be from a company presentation.
Below it was another photograph.
This one showed the same gown on a dress form, with handwritten design notes.
But the signature belonged to someone named Naomi Brooks.
Tasha wrote:
"Naomi created that dress. Vanessa presented it as hers."
I sat frozen.
Then a longer message appeared.
"Naomi complained. Vanessa lost her job. But Claire called the company and threatened legal action if they told anyone."
I reread the message three times.
Mom hadn't just defended Vanessa at home.
She had protected her from consequences in the outside world.
I typed back.
"Why are you telling me?"
Tasha took nearly a minute to answer.
"Because Naomi almost quit fashion forever. I watched what it did to her. I won't watch Vanessa destroy someone else."
My eyes burned.
"Will you help me prove it?"
"Yes."
I called Dad.
He answered immediately.
"Maya?"
"Dad, you need to see something."
He came upstairs in his pajamas.
I showed him the messages.
He read them quietly.
Then he sat on the edge of my bed.
For a long time, he said nothing.
Finally, he whispered, "Your mother told me Vanessa left that job because the company was downsizing."
I nodded.
Dad covered his face.
"She lied to me too."
That was when I understood something.
Vanessa's betrayal had hurt me.
But Mom's lies had poisoned our entire family.
Dad stood.
"Save everything. Rachel will need it."
Then he kissed my forehead.
"Try to sleep."
After he left, I turned off the light.
For a few minutes, the room was quiet.
Then I heard the front door open downstairs.
Mom had returned.
I heard her speaking on the phone.
I couldn't understand every word.
But I clearly heard one sentence.
"Maya cannot find out where the money really went."
I stopped breathing.
Money?
What money?
I slipped out of bed and moved toward the staircase.
Mom was standing in the dark hallway.
May you like
And then I heard her say something that made my blood run cold.
"If Marcus discovers the account, he'll leave me."
