Chapter 2
My mother's name hit me harder than anything Vanessa had done that night.
"What does my mother have to do with this?"
Marcus didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he turned toward Vanessa.
"Mrs. Carter, would you like to explain why these documents were hidden inside your dressing-room wardrobe?"
Vanessa swallowed.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Maya stood near the runway entrance, her eyes shifting between us.
For the first time, she didn't look amused.
Marcus opened the envelope.
Inside were several yellowed pages, a photograph, and a folded legal document.
He carefully lifted the photograph.
Even from several feet away, I recognized the woman standing beside a sewing machine.
My mother.
She was younger than I remembered.
Her hair was pulled into a bun, and she wore the bright yellow blouse she loved.
Beside her stood Vanessa.
My stomach tightened.
I had never seen a photograph of them together.
"Where did you get that?" I asked.
Marcus lowered his voice.
"These items were found after our security director investigated a complaint involving your stolen gown."
Vanessa lunged toward him.
"Those are private family documents!"
Two security guards stepped forward.
Marcus raised his hand.
"Then perhaps you can explain why several designs entered into this competition match sketches created by Evelyn Carter eighteen years ago."
The audience began whispering.
I looked toward the contestants waiting beside the runway.
Several exchanged confused glances.
Maya's face turned pale.
"Mom?" she whispered.
Vanessa spun toward her.
"Don't say another word."
That was when I knew something was terribly wrong.
Marcus held up a sketch.
It showed an elegant silver evening gown with an unusual neckline and a distinctive arrangement of pearl embroidery.
I recognized it instantly.
Not because it belonged to my mother.
Because Maya had presented the same design earlier that evening.
Her competition gown was almost identical.
"Maya," I said slowly, "where did you get your design?"
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Vanessa stepped between us.
"My daughter designed that dress herself."
Marcus turned another page.
The drawing was signed.
Evelyn Carter.
Dated eighteen years earlier.
The room fell silent.
I felt as though the floor had shifted beneath my feet.
My mother had left behind hundreds of sketches.
When my father remarried, Vanessa told me they had been destroyed during a basement flood.
I cried for days after hearing that.
Those drawings were the last pieces of my mother I thought I had lost.
And now Marcus was holding one.
"Those sketches were supposed to be gone," I whispered.
Vanessa stared at me.
Something flickered across her face.
Not guilt.
Calculation.
"Your mother never owned those designs," she snapped.
"She worked for people who did."
I could barely breathe.
"She worked for herself."
"That's what she told you."
Marcus stepped forward.
"These accusations need to be investigated properly. Until then, Maya Carter's entry is suspended, and the final results will be held."
The audience erupted.
Photographers rushed toward the stage.
Vanessa turned away, but security prevented her from approaching the evidence.
I barely noticed.
My eyes remained fixed on the photograph.
There was something familiar in the background.
A blue sewing cabinet.
My mother's cabinet.
The same one Vanessa had ordered removed from our garage two years after her wedding to my father.
I suddenly remembered the day two movers carried it away.
I was sixteen.
I had begged Vanessa to let me keep it.
She told me the cabinet was full of termites.
Now I knew she had lied.
"Where are my mother's things?" I demanded.
Vanessa glared at me.
"Lower your voice."
"Where are they?"
Marcus touched my shoulder.
"Nia, perhaps we should discuss this privately."
"No."
My voice echoed through the room.
"I've spent nine years believing everything my mother made was gone."
Vanessa's eyes narrowed.
"You're embarrassing your father."
That stopped me.
My father.
Daniel Carter.
He was supposed to attend the competition.
Instead, he had called that afternoon, saying Vanessa told him I withdrew.
I had assumed it was another misunderstanding.
Now I wondered how many misunderstandings Vanessa had created.
Marcus guided me toward a private room behind the stage.
A security officer named Officer Reynolds joined us, along with the competition director, Angela Price.
Vanessa and Maya were escorted separately.
Once the door closed, Marcus placed the documents on a table.
"Nia, I need you to look at something."
He unfolded a contract.
Across the top were the words:
EVELYN CARTER DESIGN ARCHIVE — TRANSFER OF OWNERSHIP.
My mother's signature appeared at the bottom.
So did Vanessa's.
But the date made my blood run cold.
It was dated six months after my mother died.
"That's impossible," I whispered.
Marcus nodded.
"That's why our legal adviser was concerned."
I looked again.
My mother's signature.
Her handwriting.
Her name.
But she had been buried six months before that document was supposedly signed.
Someone had forged her name.
And Vanessa had been using it.
Angela explained that Maya's competition application included a document claiming permission to use designs from Evelyn Carter's collection.
Vanessa had apparently submitted the paperwork herself.
But there was something worse.
The transfer agreement claimed Vanessa owned all past and future commercial rights to my mother's work.
Everything.
Every sketch.
Every pattern.
Every design.
I sank into a chair.
"My mother wanted me to have those."
Marcus looked surprised.
"Did she leave a will?"
"She told me she had written one."
"Have you seen it?"
I shook my head.
"Vanessa said there wasn't one."
Marcus exchanged a look with Angela.
Neither spoke.
My phone suddenly vibrated.
It was my father.
I answered immediately.
"Dad?"
His voice sounded strained.
"Nia, where are you?"
"At the competition."
A long silence followed.
Then he whispered something that terrified me.
"Don't go home."
I stood so quickly my chair fell backward.
"Dad? What's happening?"
"I found something in Vanessa's office."
My fingers tightened around the phone.
"What?"
His breathing became ragged.
Then I heard a door slam on his end.
A woman's voice screamed.
"Daniel! Give me that!"
It was Vanessa.
My father shouted my name.
The call disconnected.
I stared at the dark screen.
May you like
And I knew the nightmare wasn't over.
It was only beginning.
