Chapter 4
Grace Holloway wanted to meet me at nine the next morning.
I couldn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Vanessa pulling my gown from the mannequin.
Then I saw my mother's signature on a contract dated after her death.
I kept wondering how many years Vanessa had been planning everything.
And why she had targeted my mother before becoming my stepmother.
Dad spent the night searching through old boxes in the garage.
For once, he didn't tell me to forgive Vanessa.
He didn't ask me to keep the family together.
He only kept saying he was sorry.
But apologies were no longer enough.
At eight-thirty, Marcus arrived with Angela Price.
They had offered to accompany us to Grace's meeting.
The competition was still under investigation, and Marcus wanted to understand how the stolen designs had reached Maya's entry.
We met Grace at a small café near downtown Atlanta.
She was in her sixties, with gray curls and trembling hands.
When she saw me, tears filled her eyes.
"You look so much like Evelyn."
I barely managed to smile.
She reached across the table.
"Your mother was my best friend."
I sat opposite her.
"Then why didn't you come to us after she died?"
Grace lowered her eyes.
"Because I was frightened."
She pulled a worn folder from her handbag.
"I worked in the office that handled your mother's production contracts."
My father leaned forward.
"Office? Evelyn only had a small studio."
Grace shook her head.
"Daniel, she was about to have much more than that."
She explained that my mother had created twelve original designs for an upcoming luxury collection.
An investor had offered to help finance the first production run.
The agreement was still being negotiated when my mother became seriously ill.
During that time, Vanessa worked as an outside business consultant for one of the investor's companies.
I stared at Grace.
"Vanessa knew my mother?"
"Yes."
"Before she met my father?"
Grace nodded.
"Long before."
Dad looked stunned.
Vanessa had always claimed they met at a charity dinner two years after my mother's death.
Grace placed a photograph on the table.
It showed Vanessa and my mother sitting across from each other during a business meeting.
The date printed on the back was three years before Mom died.
I felt sick.
"She lied about everything."
Grace continued.
After my mother's death, Vanessa contacted several potential buyers and claimed she had acquired Evelyn House's intellectual property.
She produced a signed transfer agreement.
Grace suspected it was fraudulent.
But she had no authority to challenge it herself.
Then something happened.
Her apartment was broken into.
A folder containing copies of Evelyn's contracts disappeared.
A week later, Grace received an anonymous letter warning her to stay away from the Carter family.
She had no proof Vanessa was responsible.
But she was terrified.
"I had two children," she whispered.
"I convinced myself staying silent was protecting them."
I stared at her.
"And what about me?"
Grace began crying.
"I know. I failed you."
Her pain was real.
But so was mine.
I turned away.
Marcus gently moved the folder closer.
"Do you still have evidence?"
Grace nodded.
"I kept copies somewhere else."
She removed several receipts and a business letter.
One document showed a payment from a fashion licensing company called Sterling Atelier Holdings.
The recipient was Vanessa Mitchell.
Vanessa's maiden name.
The payment was for one hundred and twenty thousand dollars.
The description read:
Acquisition assistance — Evelyn House assets.
My father covered his face.
"Oh, God."
I stared at the number.
One hundred and twenty thousand dollars.
Vanessa had accepted a fortune connected to my mother's creations.
While I was working late shifts at a grocery store to buy thread.
While Dad struggled to pay the mortgage.
While she told everyone my mother's designs were worthless.
I looked at Marcus.
"What can we do?"
He spoke carefully.
"We need an attorney who handles intellectual property and inheritance disputes."
I remembered the letter.
"Samuel Brooks."
Grace looked up sharply.
"Samuel?"
"My mother said he had the original agreement."
Grace squeezed my hand.
"If he's still practicing, he may have everything."
We found his law office that afternoon.
Samuel Brooks was seventy-one years old, but his eyes were sharp.
When he saw my mother's notebook, he removed his glasses.
"I wondered when someone would finally come."
My father stared at him.
"You knew?"
Samuel sighed.
"I suspected there had been misconduct, but I couldn't prove who was responsible."
He explained that he had prepared an estate plan for my mother.
Under that plan, I was the intended beneficiary of her personal design archive, subject to formal administration of her estate.
Dad had never seen those documents.
After Mom died, Samuel sent letters requesting a meeting.
They were returned.
Someone had told him our family moved.
My father shook his head.
"We never moved."
Samuel opened an old file.
"Then someone intercepted the correspondence."
I felt cold.
He placed a sealed copy of the estate documents before us.
There it was.
My name.
Nia Carter.
My mother had protected my future.
Even while she was dying.
Samuel explained that the forged transfer might be challenged, but recovering ownership and damages would require careful investigation.
"That could take months," he warned.
"I don't care."
He studied me.
"You may face powerful companies."
"I've spent nine years facing Vanessa."
Samuel nodded.
"Then let's begin."
When we returned home, a black luxury SUV was parked outside.
Maya stood beside it.
She wasn't smiling.
Her mascara had streaked down her cheeks.
"Nia," she whispered.
"I need to talk to you."
I stopped.
"What do you want?"
She glanced toward the SUV.
Then back at me.
"Mom doesn't know I'm here."
My father stepped forward.
"Maya, what happened?"
She ignored him.
Instead, she reached into her purse and pulled out a flash drive.
"I found this in Mom's things."
I stared at it.
"What is it?"
Maya began shaking.
"Something about your mother."
I reached for the drive.
But before I touched it, she caught my wrist.
"Promise me something."
"What?"
Her voice broke.
"When you see what's on this, don't assume I knew."
And suddenly, I understood.
May you like
My stepsister wasn't just frightened of losing a competition.
She was terrified of what the truth might reveal about her own family.
