Chapter 4
I stared at the photograph.
My mother.
Vanessa.
The bridal shop.
I felt as though someone had opened a door to a part of my childhood that had been hidden for years.
"Dad, why didn't you tell me?"
He looked down.
"Because I didn't want old business problems following you into your marriage."
I shook my head.
"But they're already here."
He nodded sadly.
"I know."
Nia stepped forward.
"Marcus, my mother's company has nothing to do with me."
I looked at her.
"Then why is your company called V&E Bridal?"
She hesitated.
Vanessa immediately answered.
"Vanessa and Evelyn. It was a tribute."
Dad stared at her.
"A tribute?"
Vanessa lifted her chin.
"Yes."
He shook his head.
"Your mother helped us when we were starting."
I turned toward Nia.
"Did you know the designs came from my mother?"
She looked away.
"Nia."
Her voice trembled.
"I knew Grandma Evelyn helped with sketches."
I froze.
"Grandma Evelyn?"
She swallowed.
"That's what my mother told me to call her."
My throat tightened.
My mother had been kind enough to let Nia call her grandmother.
And years later, Nia had treated her husband like a worthless stranger.
I looked toward Dad.
His eyes were wet.
For the first time, I understood why he'd looked so deeply hurt when the box shattered.
It wasn't only the ring.
It wasn't only the insult.
It was the history between our families.
The love my mother had given them.
The sacrifices she'd made.
And how quickly they had forgotten.
Aunt Renee stepped closer.
"Marcus, there's something you should see."
She opened her handbag.
Inside was a folder.
She placed it on the table.
I recognized some of the papers.
Old drawings.
Fabric samples.
Handwritten notes.
Photographs of wedding gowns.
My mother had always loved designing clothes.
When I was little, she'd sew dresses for neighbors.
She turned inexpensive fabric into beautiful outfits.
She said making someone feel special didn't require spending a fortune.
Now I was looking at her original bridal designs.
Elegant.
Detailed.
Beautiful.
Several looked strangely familiar.
I picked up one drawing.
A fitted ivory gown with embroidered sleeves.
My stomach tightened.
I'd seen that dress before.
Nia had shown me a photograph of it last month.
She said it was part of her company's new luxury collection.
I turned toward her.
"Nia, isn't this one of your designs?"
She went pale.
"It's inspired by an older style."
I stared at the paper.
The embroidery.
The sleeves.
The unusual pattern along the waist.
It was almost identical.
Aunt Renee looked at her.
"Your company has been selling dresses based on Evelyn's work."
Vanessa stepped forward.
"Those designs belong to the business."
Dad shook his head.
"That was never agreed."
Vanessa crossed her arms.
"Arthur, we have contracts."
Renee nodded.
"Then we'll review them."
I looked between them.
Suddenly, I understood why my aunt had been gathering records.
This wasn't a family argument anymore.
It was a dispute over my mother's creative work.
Her legacy.
Something she built with her own hands.
I looked at Dad.
"Have you spoken with an attorney?"
He hesitated.
Then nodded.
"Yes."
My chest tightened.
"When?"
"Last month."
I stared.
"Last month?"
He looked ashamed.
"I didn't want to upset you before the wedding."
I took a breath.
"What did you find?"
Renee answered.
"Enough questions about ownership and payments to justify a formal review."
Nia looked horrified.
"Marcus, please don't let them destroy my business."
I turned toward her.
"Your business?"
Her eyes filled.
"I worked hard on it."
I nodded.
"I'm sure you did."
She looked relieved.
Then I continued.
"But my mother worked hard too."
Her expression changed.
"And she isn't here to defend herself."
The room became silent.
Vanessa stepped forward.
"This is becoming ridiculous."
Dad looked at her.
"Then explain the royalty agreement."
Her face froze.
I frowned.
"What agreement?"
Dad removed another paper from the folder.
It was dated twenty years earlier.
My mother had agreed to license certain designs for Vanessa's company.
In return, she was supposed to receive a percentage of sales.
There were signatures.
Payment terms.
And a clause explaining what happened if my mother died.
I stared at the document.
"Did Mom receive the money?"
Dad shook his head.
"Only for the first year."
My stomach dropped.
"Why?"
Vanessa's voice sharpened.
"Because the company changed."
Renee looked at her.
"Changing a company doesn't automatically erase a contract."
Vanessa stared.
Then she reached for her handbag.
"We're leaving."
Nia looked at her.
"Mom?"
Vanessa grabbed her wrist.
"Come on."
But Nia didn't move.
For the first time, she seemed genuinely frightened.
I looked at her.
"Did you know about this agreement?"
She began crying.
"Not all of it."
I stared at her.
I was tired of hearing those words.
Not all of it.
Not exactly.
Not the way it sounds.
Every explanation seemed carefully designed to avoid the truth.
Then Dad looked at me.
"Son, I didn't come here to ruin your wedding."
His voice broke.
"I came to give you your mother's ring."
I felt tears fill my eyes.
He continued.
"But after what happened, I can't stay silent about the way they've treated our family."
I nodded.
Then I looked toward the ballroom doors.
Nearly three hundred people were waiting.
The officiant.
The musicians.
The guests.
The wedding cake.
Everything was ready.
Except me.
I looked at Nia.
She was standing in the gown I'd paid for.
The gown she'd chosen from her company's collection.
And I suddenly noticed something.
The pattern along its sleeves.
The flowers embroidered near the waist.
I turned toward my mother's drawings.
May you like
Then back at Nia.
The dress she was wearing looked almost exactly like one of my mother's original designs.
