Chapter 7
The invoice was for forty-eight thousand dollars.
I stared at it in disbelief.
Forty-eight thousand dollars.
For designer clothing.
Shoes.
Handbags.
And accessories.
Purchased using funds that appeared to have come from accounts connected to my father's trust.
I looked at Daniel.
"That's almost enough to pay for my surgery."
He nodded sadly.
"I know."
My throat tightened.
For months, Vanessa had told me there was no money.
She'd refused to help pay for medical appointments.
She'd called my design supplies a waste.
She'd mocked me for using old fabric.
And all along, money intended to protect my future might have been funding Maya's wardrobe.
I felt sick.
Angela placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Sweetheart, breathe."
I took a slow breath.
Daniel continued.
"We've also identified payments for luxury travel, jewelry, and household renovations."
I looked up.
"Renovations?"
He nodded.
"The primary residence."
I stared at him.
Vanessa had renovated the master bedroom.
Replaced the kitchen countertops.
Installed a custom dressing room for Maya.
And told me the money came from her savings.
I swallowed.
"Can we recover it?"
"Potentially. That will depend on the trust documents, the accounting, and any legal proceedings."
I nodded.
"I understand."
Then Daniel handed me another page.
"This concerns the house."
My heart pounded.
"What about it?"
He pointed to a section of the trust agreement.
"Your father arranged for you to receive a significant beneficial interest in the property."
I stared at him.
"Vanessa said it was hers."
Daniel shook his head.
"The records don't support that simple claim."
My hands began trembling.
"So she made me feel like a guest in my own home?"
Angela's eyes filled.
Daniel spoke gently.
"We still need to verify title and occupancy rights. But you certainly shouldn't have been told you had no legal interest."
I looked down.
I remembered Vanessa threatening to throw me out if I didn't obey her.
I remembered sleeping in my sewing room because Maya wanted my bedroom.
I remembered being told I was lucky to have a roof over my head.
Anger rose inside me.
Not wild anger.
Not the kind that made me want to scream.
A quiet, steady determination.
"I want everything reviewed."
Daniel nodded.
"We're doing that."
Over the following weeks, the investigation continued.
The trust administrator provided additional records.
A forensic accountant examined transactions.
My medical documents were obtained.
Maya agreed to provide a statement about the incident that injured my eye.
And I began working with Rachel Monroe, an attorney who specialized in estate disputes.
Rachel was direct.
"Nia, this may take time."
I nodded.
"I know."
"Some transactions could have legitimate explanations. Others may not."
"I understand."
She looked at me.
"But your father's instructions matter. We need to establish whether the trust was administered according to those instructions."
I felt hopeful.
For the first time, someone was speaking to me as an adult with rights.
Not a helpless girl.
Not a burden.
Not someone who needed Vanessa's permission to ask questions.
Meanwhile, my fashion career began moving forward.
Evelyn Brooks arranged for me to work with an established design studio in Atlanta.
I spent three days a week learning professional patternmaking, garment construction, and production management.
I loved every minute.
My eye still hurt.
I still struggled with depth perception.
Some tasks took longer than they used to.
But my mentors helped me adapt.
They encouraged me.
They treated my ideas seriously.
And they never made me feel ashamed of needing assistance.
One afternoon, Samuel Reed examined a jacket I'd designed.
He studied the seams.
Then he smiled.
"Nia, you have a gift for structure."
I felt my cheeks warm.
"Thank you."
He looked at me.
"Have you considered launching your own label?"
I laughed nervously.
"Maybe someday."
He shook his head.
"Why someday?"
I stared at him.
"I don't have enough experience."
He smiled.
"Then gain it. But don't confuse learning with waiting for permission."
His words stayed with me.
That evening, I returned to the temporary apartment Angela had helped me secure.
I'd moved out of Vanessa's home after the competition.
It wasn't large.
Just one bedroom.
A small kitchen.
And a corner where I set up my sewing machine.
But it was peaceful.
Nobody shouted when I worked late.
Nobody took my clothes.
Nobody threatened to throw away my designs.
For the first time in years, I could breathe.
I placed my new jacket on the dress form.
Then I looked around the room.
Everything was mine.
Not expensive.
Not perfect.
But mine.
My phone rang.
Maya.
I hesitated.
Then I answered.
"Nia?"
Her voice sounded uncertain.
"Hi."
I sat down.
"What do you need?"
She took a breath.
"I wanted to tell you I gave my statement."
My heart tightened.
"Thank you."
She began crying.
"Mom is furious."
I looked down.
"I'm sorry you're dealing with that."
Maya sniffed.
"She says I betrayed her."
I thought carefully.
"You told the truth."
"I know."
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then Maya whispered, "I didn't realize how much she was hurting you."
I closed my eye.
"You saw more than you wanted to admit."
Silence.
Then she said, "You're right."
I felt a small shift inside me.
For years, Maya had refused responsibility for anything.
Now she was finally acknowledging her choices.
"I can't pretend everything is okay," I told her.
"I know."
"But I'm glad you told the truth."
She began crying again.
"Thank you."
After the call, I sat quietly.
I wasn't ready to forgive her.
Not completely.
But I no longer wanted revenge.
I wanted accountability.
And freedom.
Then Rachel called.
Her voice sounded urgent.
"Nia, we found something in the property records."
My heart pounded.
"What?"
"A deed transfer was submitted shortly after your father's death."
I froze.
"To who?"
"Vanessa."
My stomach tightened.
"How?"
Rachel hesitated.
"That's what we're investigating."
May you like
Then she said something that made my blood run cold.
"Nia, the document appears to contain your signature."
