Chapter 5: The Woman Who Signed Away a Billion Dollars
I hit the floor hard.
A heavy hand covered my mouth.
For one terrifying second, I couldn't see anything.
Then a flashlight beam cut through the darkness.
"Don't move!""
Marcus's voice.
I felt the hand disappear.
Adrian pulled me behind the workbench.
"Are you hurt?""
I shook my head.
"Where's Vanessa?""
"Stay down.""
Another gunshot echoed through the basement.
Then a crash.
The emergency lights flickered on.
Marcus was wrestling Daniel against the wall. Daniel's weapon lay several feet away.
Patricia was gone.
So was the blue box.
"Where did she go?"" I shouted.
Adrian looked toward the garage door.
"Marcus!""
Marcus forced Daniel's arms behind his back.
"Get after her!""
The second bodyguard rushed upstairs.
I stood.
"She's got my father's box!""
Adrian grabbed his phone.
"Lock down every exit.""
He spoke rapidly into the device, then turned toward me.
"Stay here.""
"No.""
"Evelyn—"
"I'm not letting her leave with it.""
He studied my face.
Then he nodded.
"Marcus, stay with her.""
We ran upstairs.
The front door stood open.
Outside, a black sedan was pulling away from the driveway.
Its rear lights disappeared around the corner.
Adrian swore under his breath.
His phone rang.
He answered.
"Tell me.""
A pause.
"Where?""
He looked at me.
"Patricia's car was found abandoned two streets away.""
"Then where is she?""
"Someone picked her up.""
I pressed my hands against my forehead.
The blue box.
The documents.
The silver key.
Everything my father had protected was now in Patricia's possession.
And I had no idea what she planned to do with it.
Adrian's phone rang again.
This time, he put it on speaker.
A man's voice came through.
"Mr. Blackwood. I believe we have something that belongs to you.""
Adrian's expression darkened.
"Victor.""
I froze.
Victor Sloane.
The name from the photograph.
The man my mother had supposedly met in 2002.
"Where is Patricia?"" Adrian asked.
"Safe.""
"Where's the box?""
"Also safe.""
"What do you want?""
A low laugh.
"The same thing I've wanted for twenty years. The phoenix.""
Adrian glanced at me.
"That's not yours to claim.""
"Neither is the company, according to your paperwork. Yet here we are.""
"Your original agreement expired.""
"Did it?""
A pause.
Then Victor spoke again.
"Perhaps you should ask Evelyn what her mother signed before she died.""
The call ended.
I stared at Adrian.
"What did he mean?""
He slipped the phone into his pocket.
"We need to get you somewhere secure.""
"No. Tell me what he meant.""
Adrian took a breath.
"Your mother signed an agreement with Victor Sloane shortly before her death.""
"What kind of agreement?""
"She agreed to transfer certain commercial rights to him.""
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Then Patricia was telling the truth.""
"Not entirely.""
"What does that mean?""
"Your mother signed the agreement under circumstances that have never been fully explained. But she also created a second document revoking the transfer.""
"Where is it?""
"That's what the blue box was supposed to contain.""
I looked toward the street.
"Then we have to get it back.""
Adrian nodded.
"We will.""
We returned to the Blackwood penthouse at 2:15 a.m.
I hadn't slept.
I sat at the kitchen island wearing one of Adrian's spare sweaters, staring at a photograph of my mother.
Marcus stood near the entrance.
Daniel had been handed over to the police.
Adrian was in his office making calls.
I could hear fragments of conversations.
"Find Sloane's private residence.""
"No, I want the original footage.""
"Contact the trustees.""
Then silence.
I picked up my phone.
There were seventeen missed calls from Vanessa.
I ignored them.
Another message arrived.
VANESSA: We need to talk.
I typed back.
ME: About what?
Her reply came almost immediately.
VANESSA: Mom is in trouble. You don't understand what she's done.
I stared at the screen.
Then another message appeared.
VANESSA: She didn't just steal your design. She stole something from your mother years ago.
My fingers tightened around the phone.
ME: What?
No answer.
I called her.
She picked up after the first ring.
"Evelyn?""
Her voice was barely audible.
"Where are you?""
"Somewhere safe.""
"Tell me what you know.""
A pause.
Then she whispered, "Mom has the original contract.""
"I know.""
"No. You don't. She has the original signature page.""
I frowned.
"What does that mean?""
"Your mother didn't sign the transfer.""
I stood.
"Then who did?""
Vanessa began crying.
"Mom.""
My heart stopped.
"What?""
"Patricia forged the signature. She used the agreement to convince Victor that the rights belonged to her.""
I gripped the edge of the counter.
"Why?""
"Because she thought she could sell the company.""
"How long have you known?""
"I found out last week.""
I laughed bitterly.
"And you still wore my dress?""
"I didn't know everything!""
"You knew enough.""
"Mom said she would give me the collection. She said I could build my own label. She said it was already arranged.""
"Vanessa, you stole my work.""
"I know.""
For the first time, she sounded ashamed.
Then she said something else.
"There's a recording.""
"What recording?""
"Grandma Claire.""
I stopped breathing.
"Your grandmother?""
"Mom kept it in the blue box. It's a video. She said if anyone ever questioned the contract, the recording would prove everything.""
I closed my eyes.
"Why are you telling me this?""
"Because Victor isn't going to stop at the documents.""
"What does he want?""
Vanessa whispered.
"He wants the original embroidery formula. And he thinks you have it.""
Before I could respond, I heard a loud crash on her end.
"Vanessa?""
A man's voice shouted.
Then the call went dead.
I immediately called Adrian.
He appeared in the kitchen doorway.
"What happened?""
"Vanessa knows where the recording is.""
His expression sharpened.
"Where?""
"I don't know. Someone just interrupted our call.""
He took my phone.
"Marcus!""
The bodyguard appeared.
"Sir?""
"Trace the call.""
Marcus nodded and moved away.
I turned toward Adrian.
"Vanessa said Patricia forged my mother's signature.""
He went completely still.
"Are you certain?""
"She says there's a recording.""
Adrian walked to his office.
I followed.
He opened a locked cabinet and removed a thick file.
Inside were copies of the original agreements between Claire Hart and Blackwood International.
He spread them across the desk.
"Look at this.""
I leaned forward.
A signature appeared at the bottom.
Claire Hart.
It looked like my mother's handwriting.
But something was wrong.
I had spent years looking at her notes, sketches, and letters.
I knew the way she crossed her H.
The way she connected the letters in her surname.
This signature was too neat.
Too controlled.
I pointed to it.
"That's not her signature.""
Adrian looked at me.
"You're certain?""
"Absolutely.""
I pulled a photograph from my handbag.
It was one of my mother's old birthday cards.
I placed it beside the contract.
The differences were obvious.
My mother's H had a long lower stroke.
The contract signature didn't.
Adrian studied both documents.
Then he made a call.
"Get me the forensic examiner.""
He ended the call and looked at me.
"If the signature was forged, the transfer is invalid.""
"Which means the company still belongs to me?""
"Potentially. But we'll need the original documents and the trust records.""
I sat down.
My mother had been dead for twenty years.
My father had died three years ago.
And now I was learning that the people who claimed to love our family had spent decades fighting over something she had created.
I looked at the photograph.
"Why didn't my father tell me?""
Adrian's voice softened.
"He was afraid.""
"Of Victor?""
"Of what would happen if you inherited the company before you were ready.""
I stared at him.
"That doesn't sound like my father.""
"He believed protecting you meant keeping you away from everything connected to your mother's death.""
I looked up sharply.
"Her death?""
Adrian hesitated.
That hesitation was enough.
"What aren't you telling me?""
He walked toward the window.
"Your mother died in a car accident.""
"I know.""
"She was on her way to meet someone the night it happened.""
"Who?""
"Victor Sloane.""
My breath caught.
"You're saying he was involved?""
"I'm saying the circumstances were never properly investigated.""
I felt cold.
"Why?""
"Because the police report listed the accident as a loss of control on a wet road. But your father believed the brakes had been tampered with.""
I shook my head.
"No.""
"Evelyn—"
"No. My mother died in an accident.""
Adrian said nothing.
I stood and walked away.
I couldn't process it.
My mother.
The woman who had taught me how to sew.
The woman whose unfinished designs I'd spent eleven months trying to understand.
The woman whose work had been stolen before I was even old enough to remember it.
And now there was a possibility that her death hadn't been an accident.
My phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
I opened the message.
It contained a photograph.
Vanessa was sitting in a chair in a dimly lit room.
Her hands were tied.
A man stood behind her.
Below the photograph were eight words.
*BRING THE PHOENIX PATTERN. COME ALONE. TWO HOURS.*
My blood ran cold.
A second message arrived.
*OR YOUR STEPSISTER DIES.*
I turned the phone toward Adrian.
He read it.
His expression became terrifyingly calm.
"Where did they tell you to go?""
I showed him the location.
He studied it.
Then he looked at Marcus.
"Prepare the team.""
I grabbed his arm.
"You're not sending armed men in there and getting Vanessa killed.""
He turned toward me.
"They're expecting you alone. That's exactly why we're not going to do that.""
I shook my head.
"She might know where the recording is.""
"Which means she's valuable to them.""
"She's still my stepsister.""
Adrian held my gaze.
"Then we'll bring her home.""
He reached for his jacket.
I looked at the photograph again.
Vanessa was terrified.
For the first time in my life, I saw her without the makeup, the expensive clothes, or the smug smile.
Just a frightened young woman who had made terrible choices.
I didn't forgive her.
But I wasn't going to let her die.
Adrian's phone rang.
He answered.
"Yes?""
His expression changed.
"What do you mean the warehouse is empty?""
He listened.
Then looked at me.
"That's impossible.""
He ended the call.
"What happened?"" I asked.
He turned the screen toward me.
A new photograph had arrived.
It showed the same room where Vanessa had been sitting.
But the chair was empty.
The ropes were cut.
And on the wall behind it, someone had written a message.
*THE GIRL ISN'T THE ONE WE WANT.*
Beneath it was a second line.
*WE WANT HER MOTHER'S HEIR.*
I stared at the words.
Then my phone rang.
This time, the caller ID showed a name I hadn't seen in years.
Patricia Cole.
I answered.
Her voice was trembling.
"Evelyn, listen carefully. I know where your mother hid the original contract.""
"Where?""
"In the one place your father never allowed anyone to enter.""
"Which is?""
She inhaled sharply.
Then whispered:
"The cemetery.""
A pause.
"And sweetheart, there's something else you need to know.""
May you like
"What?""
"Your mother wasn't buried alone.""
