Chapter 6
I led Mrs. Ruth into an empty classroom.
Jordan followed.
Maya stayed in the workroom with the teachers, continuing to rebuild her costume.
I didn't want her carrying another burden.
Not until I understood what Mrs. Ruth was about to tell us.
She sat down slowly.
Then she opened her handbag.
"Your mother asked me to keep something safe."
I stared at her.
"What?"
"A copy of a document."
She removed a folded envelope.
It was yellowed at the edges.
My mother's handwriting appeared across the front.
For Nia and Jordan.
My throat tightened.
I looked at my brother.
He looked stunned.
Mrs. Ruth placed the envelope on the table.
"Your mother gave this to me shortly before she died."
I whispered, "Why didn't you tell us?"
"Because she asked me to wait unless there was a dispute about her designs or estate."
I swallowed.
"She expected a dispute?"
Mrs. Ruth looked sad.
"She was worried about Diane."
I felt tears rising.
Our mother had always tried to treat her children fairly.
But Diane was difficult.
She believed love should be measured through money.
Attention.
Possessions.
If she didn't receive the most, she assumed she'd been cheated.
Mrs. Ruth continued.
"Your mother knew Diane had been asking questions about the design collection."
Jordan frowned.
"What design collection?"
Mrs. Ruth looked at us.
"Your mother registered several original costume designs years before she died."
I stared at her.
"Registered?"
"Yes. Some were created for professional productions. Others were part of a private portfolio."
I remembered Mom working late at night.
I remembered fabric covering the dining table.
I remembered her talking about selling designs to a theater company someday.
But she never made a big deal of it.
"Why didn't she tell us?" I asked.
"She did tell Diane."
I felt cold.
Mrs. Ruth opened the envelope.
Inside was a signed letter and a copy of a legal document.
Our mother's estate plan.
I read slowly.
Her modest savings were to be divided among her three children.
Her household possessions were distributed according to an attached list.
But her original design portfolio was different.
She had specifically left the collection to Maya.
My hands began trembling.
"She left the designs to Maya?"
Mrs. Ruth nodded.
"Because Maya was the one who shared her passion."
I looked at Jordan.
His eyes filled.
Then I remembered something.
After Mom died, Diane handled most of the paperwork.
She said the estate was simple.
She told us there were no valuable assets.
She kept the old dining table, several boxes of clothes, and Mom's sewing equipment.
I had never questioned it.
We were grieving.
We trusted our sister.
But now I wondered what had happened to the rest of Mom's designs.
Jordan leaned forward.
"Are you saying Diane concealed part of the estate?"
Mrs. Ruth sighed.
"I'm saying you need to compare these records with what was actually distributed."
I felt sick.
"Could she have sold Mom's work?"
"I don't know."
Jordan stood.
"We need an attorney."
I nodded.
But then I looked at the clock.
The competition was less than an hour away.
I couldn't let this steal Maya's moment.
Not again.
"We handle this after the competition," I said.
Jordan stared at me.
"Nia—"
"No."
My voice was firm.
"Diane has already taken enough from her today."
He slowly nodded.
"You're right."
We returned to the workroom.
Maya was standing on a small platform.
The teachers had stepped back.
I stopped in the doorway.
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
The pale-blue costume was gone.
In its place stood something extraordinary.
The lower half still carried traces of blue.
But deep-red fabric swept across the front like flames.
The damaged feathers had been arranged into dramatic wings.
Some were white.
Others had been carefully colored with red and gold.
The jagged cuts now formed purposeful patterns.
The destruction had become part of the design.
Maya looked up.
"Mom?"
I covered my mouth.
Tears filled my eyes.
"Oh, baby."
She looked frightened.
"Is it terrible?"
I shook my head.
"No."
I walked toward her.
"It's beautiful."
She began crying.
"I didn't think I could do it."
I touched the edge of one wing.
"You did."
Jordan smiled.
"Grandma would have loved this."
Maya looked down.
Then she whispered, "I changed the name."
I frowned.
"To what?"
She lifted her chin.
"Still Rising."
My heart nearly burst.
Before I could answer, Principal Bennett entered.
He stopped when he saw Maya.
His eyes widened.
"Miss Carter."
Maya straightened.
"Yes, sir?"
He smiled.
"I believe the judges are going to be very interested in your presentation."
Hope flooded through me.
Then his expression grew serious.
"I also have an update."
I braced myself.
"The review committee has examined the evidence regarding the design ownership complaint."
Maya gripped my hand.
"And?"
"The complaint has not been substantiated. Your entry remains eligible."
Maya gasped.
I hugged her.
Jordan clapped.
Mrs. Ruth began crying.
For one beautiful moment, everything felt possible again.
Then Principal Bennett continued.
"Mrs. Collins has been suspended pending the district investigation. Mrs. Whitmore has been barred from the competition venue."
I nodded.
"Thank you."
"And Lily's eligibility suspension remains under review."
Maya looked down.
I knew what she was thinking.
Lily had not attacked her.
But she had known something was wrong.
My daughter was learning that family loyalty could become complicated.
Principal Bennett looked at his watch.
"Final presentations begin in fifteen minutes."
Maya inhaled sharply.
Fifteen minutes.
After everything, the moment had finally arrived.
I stepped in front of her.
"Baby, look at me."
She lifted her eyes.
"You don't have to win."
Her lips trembled.
"I know."
"You don't have to prove anything to Diane."
She nodded.
"You only need to tell your story."
Maya took a deep breath.
Then she smiled.
A real smile.
The first one I'd seen since the attack.
"Okay, Mom."
I hugged her.
As we prepared to leave, my phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
I opened the message.
It contained a photograph.
A close-up of one of Mom's original costume designs.
Beneath it was a sales listing from a private art broker.
The asking price was forty-five thousand dollars.
I stared at the screen.
Then another message appeared.
"Ask Diane why she's selling Eleanor's designs under her own name."
My blood turned cold.
I looked toward Mrs. Ruth.
Then toward Maya, standing proudly in her transformed costume.
Diane had tried to destroy my daughter's future.
May you like
But now I had evidence she might also have stolen our mother's legacy.
And I knew this battle wasn't ending when the competition did.
