Chapter 5
I had never seen Maya afraid.
For nine years, she had laughed whenever Vanessa humiliated me.
She had borrowed my clothes without permission, taken credit for my designs, and told her friends I was the family's unpaid maid.
Now she stood on my father's driveway, crying.
I didn't know whether to believe a single tear.
"What's on the drive?" I demanded.
Maya looked toward the street.
"Videos. Contracts. Things Mom kept hidden."
"Where did you find it?"
"In her private safe."
My father frowned.
"How did you open it?"
Maya gave a bitter laugh.
"She uses my birthday as the code."
She wiped her cheeks.
"Apparently, loving me was the one predictable thing about her."
I took the drive.
"Why bring it to me?"
Her eyes met mine.
"Because I don't think she's ever told me the truth either."
We went inside.
Marcus and Samuel joined us by video call while Dad connected the flash drive to his laptop.
I stood behind his chair.
There were dozens of folders.
Some contained bank statements.
Others held photographs, scanned contracts, and recordings of meetings.
The oldest folder was labeled EVELYN.
My hands turned cold.
Dad clicked it.
A video opened.
The image showed an office with large windows.
My mother sat at a conference table.
Vanessa sat opposite her.
A third woman was present, wearing a gray business suit.
My mother's voice filled the room.
"I will not sign away my designs."
I gripped the back of the chair.
I hadn't heard her voice in nine years.
The sound nearly broke me.
Vanessa leaned forward on the recording.
"You're being unreasonable, Evelyn."
"My work belongs to my daughter."
"You don't even know what your medical bills will cost."
My mother remained calm.
"My illness doesn't make me desperate enough to surrender everything."
The woman in gray shifted uncomfortably.
Vanessa's expression hardened.
"You might regret that decision."
The recording ended.
I stood motionless.
Dad whispered, "I didn't know."
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I clicked the next file.
It was an audio recording from two months after Mom died.
Vanessa was speaking to an unidentified man.
"The signature is close enough," she said.
"He won't question it."
The man asked, "What about the husband?"
Vanessa laughed.
"Daniel doesn't understand contracts. He'll believe whatever I tell him."
My father lowered his head.
The room became painfully silent.
Then the man asked about me.
"What happens when the daughter grows up?"
Vanessa answered without hesitation.
"By then, she'll have nothing to prove."
I stepped backward.
My knees felt weak.
For years, I had wondered whether Vanessa hated me because I reminded Dad of Mom.
Now I understood.
She hated me because I was the person who could challenge what she stole.
Samuel's voice came through the laptop.
"Preserve that drive immediately. Don't edit or delete anything."
Marcus agreed.
"I can arrange secure digital copies and document when Maya provided it."
Maya sat on the sofa with her arms wrapped around herself.
"There's more."
I turned.
"What?"
She stared at the floor.
"Mom told me Evelyn House was a company she created."
My chest tightened.
"Did you believe her?"
"Yes."
"And the dresses?"
Maya swallowed.
"She gave me old sketches and told me to make them modern."
"So you entered my mother's design as your own."
"I changed parts of it."
"That's not the same as creating something."
She began crying again.
"I know."
For the first time, Maya didn't argue.
She didn't insult me.
She simply looked ashamed.
I wanted that to be enough.
It wasn't.
"You watched her destroy my gown."
Maya nodded.
"And you laughed."
"I know."
"Why?"
Her answer came slowly.
"Because she taught me that if you succeeded, I would lose everything."
I stared at her.
"That's not an excuse."
"I know."
She covered her face.
"I'm not asking you to forgive me."
That surprised me.
Vanessa always demanded forgiveness without admitting wrongdoing.
Maya, at least, understood that she had done something cruel.
Dad sat beside her.
"Maya, where's Vanessa?"
She stiffened.
"I don't know."
"Maya."
She looked toward the window.
"She left the house after I took the drive. She called me six times and threatened to cut me off if I didn't return it."
Samuel interrupted.
"She may try to destroy evidence. We should contact the authorities handling the forgery complaint."
Dad immediately called the detective who had taken his statement.
I went upstairs.
My bedroom looked exactly as it had that morning.
A narrow bed.
A secondhand sewing machine.
Fabric stacked in plastic bins.
The framed photograph of my mother beside my desk.
I picked it up.
"She didn't win, Mama."
For the first time, I allowed myself to cry without trying to hide it.
A knock came at my door.
Dad entered.
He sat beside me.
"I have no right to ask you to trust me."
I didn't speak.
"But I want to spend the rest of my life earning back whatever I can."
I stared at the photograph.
"You knew she hated me."
His eyes filled.
"I knew she was hard on you."
"She wasn't hard on me, Dad. She was cruel."
He nodded.
"You're right."
I looked at him.
"Why didn't you protect me?"
His voice cracked.
"Because I was afraid of losing another marriage. And I convinced myself that keeping everyone together meant keeping you safe."
"But it didn't."
"No."
He began crying.
"It made you face everything alone."
For years, I had dreamed of hearing him admit that.
Now the words felt both healing and terribly late.
I leaned against his shoulder.
I couldn't forgive everything in one night.
But I didn't push him away.
Then my phone vibrated.
An email had arrived.
The sender was Vanessa Carter.
The subject line read:
YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'VE STARTED.
Inside was a single photograph.
It showed my reconstructed runway gown.
Someone had circled one of its metallic panels in red.
Below the image was a message.
That fabric belongs to Sterling Atelier. Wear it again and you'll lose more than a competition.
I stared at the screen.
May you like
Vanessa was still coming after me.
And this time, she was using the law.
