Chapter 8
I didn't chase my sister.
A year earlier, I might have.
I might have run after her, screamed in her face, demanded answers in front of everyone.
But I was standing beside my daughter.
And Maya was holding a scholarship award she'd earned through incredible courage.
I refused to let Diane steal another moment.
I turned toward Maya.
"Don't look at her."
My daughter blinked.
"Mom?"
I took her face between my hands.
"Look at me."
She did.
"You won."
Her lips trembled.
"You earned this."
She began crying again.
I kissed her forehead.
"Today belongs to you."
Maya nodded.
Then she smiled.
A genuine smile.
I knew there would be time to deal with Diane.
And this time, we were going to do it properly.
The next morning, Jordan and I met with an attorney named Rachel Monroe.
Rachel specialized in estate disputes and intellectual property matters.
She examined the documents Mrs. Ruth had preserved.
Then she reviewed the copy of our mother's will that Diane had submitted during probate.
Her expression grew serious.
"These documents are not identical."
My stomach tightened.
"What do you mean?"
She placed them side by side.
The copy Diane had used omitted the specific gift of the design portfolio to Maya.
I stared at the pages.
"How could that happen?"
Rachel looked at me.
"That's what we need to investigate."
Jordan leaned forward.
"Are you saying Diane changed Mom's will?"
"I'm saying the records raise serious questions. We need the original documents and the estate attorney's file."
I swallowed.
"Can we get them?"
"Yes. We can begin by contacting the attorney who prepared the estate plan and requesting the relevant records."
I nodded.
"Do it."
Rachel also examined the online sales listing.
The seller was listed as Whitmore Heritage Designs.
Diane's business.
Several original sketches were advertised as exclusive designs by Diane Whitmore.
I felt physically sick.
"She put her name on Mom's work."
Rachel nodded.
"That appears to be the claim being made."
Jordan shook his head.
"Unbelievable."
I stared at the listing.
One drawing showed the same phoenix design Maya had used.
Another showed a beautiful silver costume with dramatic feathered shoulders.
I remembered Mom sketching it at our kitchen table.
I remembered her asking me whether the feathers looked too heavy.
I remembered telling her they looked like angel wings.
And now my sister was trying to sell it as her own creation.
"Can we stop the sales?" I asked.
Rachel nodded.
"We can notify the platform and seek legal relief based on the evidence of ownership."
"Please."
She looked at me.
"Nia, you also need to prepare for the possibility that Diane sold some designs already."
My stomach dropped.
"How many?"
"We don't know yet."
I closed my eyes.
I had spent years believing our mother left behind only memories.
Now I was learning she had created something valuable.
Something Diane may have taken for herself.
Rachel continued.
"There's another issue."
I looked up.
"What?"
"The school incident."
I nodded.
"Principal Bennett preserved the evidence."
"Good. The damage to Maya's property and the circumstances of the attack may support separate legal claims."
I took a deep breath.
"I want justice."
Rachel studied my face.
"Then we need patience and documentation."
I nodded.
"I can do that."
After the meeting, Jordan and I drove to our mother's old neighborhood.
We parked outside the house where we'd grown up.
Diane had sold it after Mom died.
The new owners had painted the front door yellow.
I stared at the porch.
So many memories lived there.
Mom sitting outside with her sewing basket.
Jordan running through the yard.
Maya playing beside the flowerbeds.
Diane laughing with us before bitterness changed her.
Jordan looked at me.
"You okay?"
I shook my head.
"No."
He waited.
I wiped my eyes.
"I keep thinking about Mom."
"Me too."
"She trusted Diane."
Jordan nodded.
"We all did."
I stared at the house.
"Do you think Mom knew what Diane was capable of?"
He sighed.
"I think she worried. But I don't think she imagined this."
I looked down.
"I wish we could ask her."
Jordan placed a hand on my shoulder.
"We still have what she taught us."
I nodded.
Then my phone rang.
Rachel.
I answered.
"Nia, we contacted the attorney who prepared your mother's estate documents."
My heart started pounding.
"And?"
"He confirmed that the specific gift to Maya was included in the final signed document."
I closed my eyes.
"Thank God."
"He also has a retained copy."
I exhaled.
"Then we can prove Diane lied."
"We have important evidence. We still need to determine how the altered version entered the estate process."
I nodded.
"Understood."
Rachel continued.
"And Nia?"
"Yes?"
"There's another matter."
I gripped the phone.
"What?"
"The original estate file included a list of completed design registrations."
I frowned.
"How many?"
"Twenty-three."
My breath caught.
Twenty-three original designs.
Our mother's life's work.
Rachel paused.
"Based on what we've found so far, at least nine appear to have been offered for sale."
I stared at the house.
"Nine?"
"Yes."
"How much money?"
"We're tracing the transactions."
I felt sick.
Rachel continued.
"And one buyer has already contacted us."
My heart pounded.
"Why?"
"Because they paid Diane for a design, and now they believe she may not have owned it."
I swallowed.
"How much did they pay?"
Rachel hesitated.
"Seventy-eight thousand dollars."
I nearly dropped the phone.
Jordan stared at me.
"What happened?"
I couldn't answer immediately.
My sister had not only destroyed my daughter's costume.
May you like
She may have profited from stealing our mother's work.
And now the truth was finally catching up with her.
