Chapter 5
I called my mother from the hotel's private conference room.
She answered on the second ring.
"Nia? Sweetheart, are you all right?"
The sound of her voice almost broke me.
"I'm safe, Mama."
"Oh, thank God."
I heard her crying.
"The police came to my apartment. They said someone threatened you."
"I'm handling it."
"Nia, don't protect me from the truth."
I closed my eyes.
My mother had spent years protecting me.
Now she deserved honesty.
"Bianca sabotaged my wedding dress. Raymond tried to use the foundation to guarantee a loan. And someone is threatening us."
Silence.
Then my mother whispered something I never expected.
"It's happening again."
My stomach tightened.
"What do you mean?"
She began crying harder.
"Nia, I should have told you years ago."
I stood.
"Told me what?"
"Your grandmother didn't just leave you her sewing scissors."
I stared at the wall.
"What?"
My mother took a shaking breath.
"She left you the original designs for the Ruth Collection."
I frowned.
I remembered the name.
Grandma Ruth had drawn bridal gowns for decades.
Her sketches were beautiful.
But she'd never managed to open her own design house.
"What happened to them?"
My mother hesitated.
"Vanessa Bellamy took them."
I felt the air leave my lungs.
"How?"
"She worked with your grandmother years ago. Ruth trusted her."
My mother paused.
"Vanessa promised to manufacture the gowns and share the profits."
"Did she?"
"No."
I closed my eyes.
"She registered the designs under Bellamy Couture."
The room seemed to spin.
My grandmother's designs.
My former employer.
The accusations against me.
Suddenly, the pieces were beginning to fit.
"Why didn't Grandma sue her?"
"She tried."
My mother sighed.
"But Vanessa had lawyers. Your grandmother had medical bills."
I swallowed.
"Did she leave proof?"
"Yes."
My heart pounded.
"Where?"
"With Mrs. Loretta."
I was already moving toward the door.
"Mama, I'll call you back."
I found Mrs. Loretta sitting near the chapel entrance.
She stood when she saw me.
"You've learned something."
I nodded.
"My mother told me about the Ruth Collection."
Her expression changed.
For the first time since she'd arrived, she looked afraid.
"Come with me."
We entered a small sitting room.
She locked the door.
Then she opened the worn leather handbag she'd carried all day.
Inside was a narrow wooden box.
I recognized it immediately.
Grandma Ruth kept sewing needles in it when I was little.
Mrs. Loretta placed it on the table.
"Your grandmother gave me this before she died."
My hands shook.
Inside were folded drawings.
Original sketches.
Letters.
Photographs.
And a yellowed contract.
At the bottom was a small envelope.
I opened it.
A note written in my grandmother's handwriting read:
Nia, if anyone ever tells you that your talent is stolen, remember whose hands taught yours to create.
I started crying.
Mrs. Loretta sat beside me.
"Ruth knew Vanessa would eventually come after you."
I looked up.
"Why?"
"Because your designs were too similar to the work she'd stolen."
I covered my mouth.
My designs.
My grandmother's work.
Vanessa had accused me of theft because my drawings could expose hers.
"She wasn't protecting her company," I whispered.
"She was protecting a lie."
Mrs. Loretta nodded.
I looked through the contracts.
One signature appeared repeatedly.
Vanessa Bellamy.
Then I found another name.
Raymond Carter.
Bianca's husband.
I stared at it.
"Why is Raymond here?"
Mrs. Loretta leaned closer.
The document was dated fourteen years earlier.
Raymond had been listed as a financial consultant.
He had helped structure a licensing agreement.
I felt sick.
Raymond hadn't recently discovered Vanessa.
He'd known her for years.
My phone rang.
It was Detective Foster.
I answered immediately.
"I found something."
She listened as I explained the wooden box.
Then she asked me to photograph the documents and preserve the originals.
"Don't let anyone else handle them," she warned.
I agreed.
"Detective, Raymond knew Vanessa fourteen years ago."
There was a pause.
"We suspected a connection."
"How?"
"We found old business transfers."
My heart raced.
"From whom?"
"Bellamy Couture to a company Raymond controlled."
I stared at the contract.
"Why?"
"We're still tracing the money."
I looked toward Mrs. Loretta.
Then I asked the question that had been haunting me.
"Was Bianca involved back then?"
Detective Foster hesitated.
"There's evidence she benefited from those transactions."
My hands went numb.
Bianca had spent years treating me as though I were beneath her.
As though I didn't belong in her wealthy family.
But her lifestyle might have been partly funded by the theft of my grandmother's work.
I felt an anger so deep it almost frightened me.
Marcus entered after I called him.
I showed him everything.
He read the documents in silence.
Then he sat down heavily.
"My sister knew."
I nodded.
His eyes filled.
"All those years..."
He stopped.
I knew what he was thinking.
Bianca had claimed she sacrificed everything to raise him.
She had used that story to control him.
Now it appeared she had been protecting her own interests all along.
Marcus looked at me.
"I need to make something right."
I took his hand.
"You didn't steal those designs."
"No."
He swallowed.
"But I kept defending someone who hurt you."
I leaned against him.
"You know the truth now."
He kissed my forehead.
"And I'm not looking away again."
That evening, Daniel reviewed the documents with a specialist in design ownership.
The original sketches carried dates, witness signatures, and correspondence that could support a claim against Bellamy Couture.
The case wasn't simple.
Too many years had passed.
But it was no longer just my word against Vanessa's.
We had evidence.
At nine that night, Detective Foster called again.
"We located Raymond."
My heart jumped.
"Where?"
"At a private airport."
"Was Bianca with him?"
"No."
I frowned.
"Then where is she?"
The detective's voice tightened.
"We believe she's trying to contact Vanessa Bellamy."
Marcus looked at me.
I put the call on speaker.
Detective Foster continued.
"There's one more thing. Raymond had a briefcase containing financial records and two passports."
I gripped Marcus's arm.
"Whose passports?"
"His and Bianca's."
My heart hammered.
"Was he leaving the country?"
"That's what we're investigating."
Then the detective added something that sent a chill through me.
"Ms. Johnson, one of the documents in his briefcase was a recent appraisal of your foundation's property."
I stared at the phone.
Our property?
The building where vulnerable women received counseling, training, and emergency support?
"Why would he have that?"
The detective paused.
"We believe they weren't planning to stop with the loan."
I pressed a hand against my chest.
May you like
"What were they planning?"
"They were preparing to take control of your foundation's building."
