Chapter 7
The following morning, Vanessa called me.
I almost ignored it.
Then I remembered the missing sketchbook, the investor, and the document carrying my mother's signature.
I answered and put the call on speaker.
"What do you want?"
Her voice sounded strained.
"You need to stop talking to people about me."
"I'm not the one who sent accusations to a fashion house."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Then explain the designs you showed your investors."
Silence.
I heard her breathing.
Finally, she said, "You should have worked with me when I offered."
I felt a chill run down my spine.
"So you admit you used my work?"
"I admit nothing."
"Then why are you threatening me?"
"I'm trying to save you from embarrassing yourself."
I laughed bitterly.
"You destroyed my gown, Vanessa. You accused me of stealing my own designs. You used Mom's signature to support a story that doesn't make sense. And now you're telling me you're trying to help?"
Her voice sharpened.
"You always get everything!"
The words came out so suddenly that I went still.
"What exactly have I gotten?"
"Mom's praise. Opportunities. People telling you how talented you are. You walk into a room and everyone wants to know what you're making next."
I stared at the wall.
"You could have built something of your own."
"I tried!"
"No. You wanted what I had without doing what it took to create it."
She began crying, but I couldn't tell whether the tears were real.
"You don't understand what it's like to be the second-best daughter."
I closed my eyes.
For years, I had believed her cruelty came from insecurity. I had tried to reassure her, include her, and celebrate her accomplishments.
Nothing had ever been enough.
"Vanessa, I never asked you to compete with me."
"Well, you won anyway."
The call ended.
I stood motionless, holding the phone.
My mother had heard every word.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
I turned toward her.
"You didn't create this situation, Mom."
"But I allowed it to continue."
She sat beside me.
"I thought I was keeping the family together. Every time Vanessa hurt you, I asked you to forgive her because I was afraid of what would happen if we fought."
I took her hand.
"Keeping a family together shouldn't mean asking one person to suffer quietly."
She nodded through her tears.
"I know that now."
Later that day, Thomas contacted the investor who had received Vanessa's proposal.
The investor agreed to meet us.
His name was Robert Ellis, and he had invested in several small fashion businesses.
He arrived carrying a leather briefcase and a worried expression.
"I was told there may be a dispute over the collection," he said.
Thomas explained the situation without making accusations.
Robert opened his briefcase.
"I have the original proposal, the payment records, and the emails Vanessa sent me."
He placed the documents on the table.
The first pages contained descriptions of designs I recognized immediately.
The second section included photographs of sketches.
My sketches.
My hands trembled as I turned the pages.
Then I noticed a small detail.
One of the designs contained an unfinished notation in the corner. I had written it months earlier while testing a new embroidery pattern.
The notation was still there.
Vanessa hadn't even bothered to remove it.
"This is mine," I whispered.
Robert looked troubled.
"She told me she had designed the collection herself."
"She didn't."
Thomas examined the documents.
"Mr. Ellis, did Ms. Vanessa provide any evidence of her design process?"
"She sent me a few sketches, but most of the collection was already presented as finished concepts. She said she had worked with a private designer."
"Did she identify that designer?"
"No."
Robert looked at me.
"If these designs belong to you, I need to know. I've already committed money to production."
"I can prove when I created them."
"Then I want an independent review."
Thomas agreed to arrange one.
As Robert prepared to leave, he paused.
"There is one more thing. Vanessa told me she had permission to use certain family designs."
I frowned.
"What family designs?"
"She said your mother had helped establish ownership of the collection."
My mother went pale.
Thomas leaned forward.
"Did she provide documentation?"
Robert removed a final sheet.
It was a draft agreement bearing my name.
I had never seen it before.
The document claimed I had transferred the rights to several designs to Vanessa in exchange for a small payment.
At the bottom was a signature that looked almost like mine.
Almost.
May you like
But I knew every curve of my own handwriting.
Someone had forged my name.
