Chapter 4: My Mother's Hidden Legacy
I read the document three times.
Evelyn Carter Designs.
The name looked unfamiliar and familiar at the same time.
My mother had never talked about owning a company.
She had spoken about fabrics, customers, patterns, and the little sewing room where she worked.
But a registered fashion business?
That was something else entirely.
"Why would Vanessa have access to this account?"" I asked.
Helena closed the folder.
"We need to establish the legal ownership before drawing conclusions.""
Marcus looked at me.
"Do you have any of your mother's old paperwork?""
I thought about the wooden trunk in my father's attic.
It had belonged to my mother.
Vanessa had told me years ago that it contained old sewing patterns and things nobody needed.
I hadn't opened it since I was a teenager.
"I might.""
"Could you bring it to us?""
"I can try.""
My phone rang again.
Dad.
This time I answered.
"Nia, where are you?""
"At the competition.""
"I know. Vanessa called me.""
"Did you know Mom owned a fashion company?""
The silence was immediate.
Then I heard him sit down.
"Where did you hear that?""
"That's not an answer.""
He sighed.
"Your mother had a small business.""
"What kind?""
"She designed clothes. She made custom pieces for a few clients.""
"Was it registered as Evelyn Carter Designs?""
Another pause.
"Yes.""
I gripped the phone.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because it was complicated.""
"What's complicated about telling your daughter that her mother owned a company?""
"Nia, I promised your mother I'd keep certain things private.""
I looked at Helena.
She silently motioned for me to continue.
"What things?""
Dad lowered his voice.
"Come home. We need to talk.""
"I want the truth.""
"You deserve it. But not over the phone.""
I ended the call.
Marcus arranged for a car to take me home.
Helena offered to accompany me.
I accepted.
The drive felt longer than it should have.
Atlanta's evening traffic moved beneath the streetlights while I watched the city pass through the window.
I thought about my mother.
Her hands.
Her laugh.
The way she used to sit beside me and draw little dresses on scraps of paper.
I remembered asking her why she didn't open a bigger store.
She had smiled.
"Some dreams are bigger than the money you have, sweetheart.""
I had assumed she meant she couldn't afford it.
Now I wondered whether there had been more.
When we arrived, the house was brightly lit.
Vanessa's black SUV stood in the driveway.
I walked through the front door.
Dad sat in the living room.
Vanessa stood beside the fireplace.
Maya was upstairs.
The moment Vanessa saw me, she crossed her arms.
"Well, look who's back.""
I ignored her.
"Dad, where's Mom's trunk?""
He looked toward the staircase.
"Upstairs.""
"Can I see it?""
Vanessa stepped forward.
"That old thing?""
I turned.
"Yes.""
"There's nothing useful in there.""
"I'll decide that.""
She laughed.
"You've already embarrassed this family enough tonight.""
Helena stepped beside me.
"Mrs. Carter, I would advise you to choose your next words carefully.""
Vanessa looked her up and down.
"And who are you?""
"Helena Brooks. Independent adviser to the competition.""
Vanessa's face tightened.
"This is my house.""
Dad finally stood.
"Vanessa, let her look.""
She turned toward him.
"Richard, you cannot be serious.""
"Let her look.""
I climbed the stairs.
The attic smelled of dust and cedar.
I moved several old boxes aside until I found the wooden trunk.
Its brass lock was rusted.
I recognized the small flower engraved on the lid.
My mother had bought it at a flea market when I was six.
Dad appeared behind me.
"Here.""
He handed me a key.
I looked at him.
"You kept it?""
He nodded.
"Your mother wanted you to have everything inside when you were old enough.""
I unlocked the trunk.
Inside were fabric samples, notebooks, photographs, old letters, and several neatly folded dresses.
I lifted the first notebook.
On its cover, my mother's handwriting read:
Evelyn Carter Designs — Original Collection.
My fingers trembled.
I opened it.
Page after page contained sketches.
Beautiful, intricate designs.
Some were dated twenty years earlier.
Others were accompanied by notes about construction, suppliers, and clients.
At the back was a photograph of my mother standing beside a young woman in an elegant black dress.
The woman was wearing a brooch shaped like a silver bird.
I recognized it.
It was identical to the brooch Helena wore.
I looked at her.
"Do you know her?""
Helena took the photograph.
Her expression changed instantly.
She sat down on the attic floor.
"Oh, my goodness.""
"What?""
She turned the photograph over.
There was a handwritten note.
To Helena, who believed in me before anyone else did. One day, we'll show them what we can build.
Helena covered her mouth.
"Your mother was my closest friend.""
I stared at her.
"What?""
"We met in fashion school. Evelyn was the most talented person in our class. She designed an entire collection using recycled materials, and every major designer in the room wanted to know how she did it.""
I looked at the sketches.
"Then why was she sewing clothes from home?""
Helena looked at my father.
"Richard, did you never tell her?""
Dad shook his head.
Helena continued.
"Your mother and I started a company together. Evelyn Carter Designs was supposed to become a national fashion label. We had investors.
We had contracts. We even had a major retailer interested.""
"What happened?""
Helena lowered her voice.
"Your mother became ill.""
I felt my throat tighten.
"She never told me.""
"She didn't want you growing up afraid.""
I looked at Dad.
He stared at the floor.
"After Evelyn died, the company was supposed to pass to you," Helena explained.
"Your mother left instructions in her estate documents.""
"Then why does Vanessa have access to it?""
Dad rubbed his forehead.
"Because she handled the paperwork after Evelyn died.""
I turned sharply.
"What paperwork?""
He swallowed.
"She helped me manage the estate.""
Helena stood.
"Richard, did you transfer any ownership rights?""
"I didn't understand all the documents.""
"Did you sign them?""
Dad didn't answer.
I looked at him.
"Dad?""
He finally nodded.
"Vanessa said it was necessary to keep the company operating.""
The attic seemed to tilt.
"How long ago?""
"About six years.""
I remembered being seventeen.
I remembered Vanessa asking me to sign a few papers she said were school-related.
I had refused because they were confusing.
But my father had signed something.
Something that might have changed everything.
Helena picked up another document.
She examined the signature.
Then she went completely still.
"Richard.""
He looked at her.
"What's wrong?""
"This isn't a transfer of business management.""
She placed the page on the trunk.
"It's a transfer of intellectual property rights.""
I stared at the document.
My mother's designs.
Her sketches.
Her original patterns.
Everything.
The paperwork claimed they had been assigned to Carter Luxury Events.
And the signature at the bottom belonged to my father.
But Helena pointed to a second signature.
"There's another problem.""
I leaned closer.
The witness signature was dated six years earlier.
The name was clearly printed.
Vanessa Carter.
Helena looked at me.
"Your stepmother didn't simply take control of your mother's company.""
She paused.
"She may have taken control of something that was never legally hers to sell.""
Before I could respond, a loud crash came from downstairs.
May you like
Then Maya screamed.
"Mom! The police are here!""
