Chapter 2: The Secret Behind the Red Paint
I watched the video four times.
The first time, I couldn't breathe.
The second time, I noticed Patricia standing behind Vanessa, holding her phone.
The third time, I heard something that made my stomach twist.
“Make sure you get the whole thing,” Patricia said.
Vanessa laughed.
“Relax, Mom. Lily won't do anything.””
Patricia stepped closer to the dress.
“Your father is getting tired of her attitude. Maybe this will finally teach her that she isn't the center of this house.””
Then Vanessa lifted the bucket.
The video ended.
I sat perfectly still.
It wasn't an accident.
It wasn't Vanessa having one of her cruel moments.
They had planned it.
My phone rang.
Ethan.
I answered immediately.
“Where did you get that?””
“Madison sent it to me,” he said.
“She was in a group chat with Vanessa. Apparently, Vanessa accidentally shared the video with the wrong person.””
“Does my father know?””
There was a pause.
“Lily, I don't think your dad knows anything.””
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course he doesn't.””
“Listen, I don't want to make things worse, but you need to be careful tonight. Vanessa has been telling everyone you're going to show up wearing some ridiculous homemade dress.””
I glanced at the wardrobe.
“Let her talk.””
“Lily?””
“I'm going to prom.””
Ethan went quiet.
“Seriously?””
“Yes.””
“After everything she did?””
I looked at the crimson roses.
“Especially after everything she did.””
He exhaled.
“Okay. Then I'm picking you up at seven.””
“You don't have to.””
“I know. I'm offering.””
I smiled for the first time that morning.
“Thank you.””
When I finally went downstairs, the house smelled of coffee and vanilla pancakes.
Vanessa was sitting at the kitchen island in a silk robe, scrolling through her phone.
Patricia stood near the stove.
Neither looked particularly concerned.
“Good morning,” Patricia said sweetly.
I didn't answer.
Vanessa glanced up.
“Oh, look. Cinderella survived.””
She examined my face.
“Did you find another dress?””
I poured myself a glass of water.
“Something like that.””
Vanessa laughed.
“Please tell me you're not planning to wear one of your little sewing projects.””
Patricia placed a plate in front of her.
“Vanessa, be nice.””
But she was smiling.
I turned toward the stairs.
“Lily,” Patricia called.
I stopped.
“Your father wants everyone downstairs at six. He has something important to discuss.””
“What?””
“Family matters.””
Vanessa grinned.
“Maybe he's finally going to tell you about the changes.””
I frowned.
“What changes?””
Patricia exchanged a glance with her daughter.
“Nothing you need to worry about.””
I went upstairs without another word.
At 9:15 a.m., I received a call from Mr. Harris.
“Lily, sweetheart, are you coming in today?””
I looked at my hands.
There were tiny marks from the needle, and a streak of red paint remained beneath my fingernail.
“I don't think I can today, Mr. Harris.””
“Everything okay?””
I hesitated.
“It's prom day.””
He chuckled.
“Right. The big night.””
Then his voice softened.
“Your mother would've been excited.””
My throat tightened.
“She would've been.””
“Listen, I have something for you. Come by the bakery before you get ready.””
“Mr. Harris, you don't have to—”
“I'm not asking you to work, Lily. Just come.””
I arrived at the bakery shortly after noon.
The little bell above the door jingled.
Mr. Harris stood behind the counter, wearing his usual white apron.
He was sixty-eight, with silver hair and thick glasses that always slid down his nose.
He looked at me for a moment.
Then he walked around the counter and hugged me.
“I heard about your dress.””
I stiffened.
“Who told you?””
“People talk. Especially when someone thinks humiliating another person is entertainment.””
I looked down.
“It's okay.””
“No, it isn't.””
He walked to the back office and returned with a small cardboard box.
“Your mother left this with me.””
I stared at him.
“What?””
He placed it on the counter.
“About three months before she passed away, she came in one afternoon. She asked me to keep this somewhere safe until you were old enough to understand what was inside.””
My fingers trembled as I opened it.
Inside was a photograph of my mother standing beside a beautiful woman in front of a fashion studio.
Both were laughing.
Behind the photograph was an envelope.
My name was written across the front.
For Lily. When she's ready.
I opened it carefully.
The letter was short.
My beautiful girl,
If you're reading this, then perhaps you've reached a moment when the world has made you question whether you're good enough.
Don't let it.
You have my hands, my stubbornness, and a heart that sees beauty where other people see broken things.
I know you love designing clothes. I know you dream of making something that belongs entirely to you.
Please don't give up on that dream.
There is more waiting for you than you know.
Love, Mom.
I pressed the letter against my chest.
“Why didn't you give it to me before?”” I whispered.
Mr. Harris pulled out a chair.
“Because your mother asked me to wait.””
“Wait for what?””
He looked at the photograph.
“She said you'd understand when someone tried to convince you that you had no place in this world.””
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?””
He turned the photograph over.
There was an address written on the back.
*Marlowe Fashion House. New York.*
“Your mother worked there before she became a mother,” he said.
“She was a very talented designer.””
I blinked.
“I knew she liked sewing, but I didn't know…”
“She never talked much about her old life. But she had opportunities, Lily. Real ones.””
I looked at the photograph again.
The woman beside my mother was wearing a gold name badge.
Her name was Evelyn Marlowe.
“Is that…”
“The founder of Marlowe Fashion House,” Mr. Harris said.
My mouth fell open.
I'd seen the brand in magazines. It was one of the most respected independent fashion houses in the country.
“My mother knew her?””
“More than knew her.””
He hesitated.
“Your mother helped build that company.””
I stared at him.
For a moment, the bakery seemed to go silent.
Then he added something that changed everything.
“Evelyn has been looking for your mother's daughter.””
I looked up.
“Why?””
Mr. Harris reached into the box and pulled out another envelope.
This one had an official letterhead.
It was addressed to me.
*Invitation to the Marlowe Young Designers Scholarship Final Review.*
The date was next week.
My heart began pounding.
“What is this?””
“Your mother arranged for you to have the opportunity to apply when you turned eighteen.””
I checked the letter.
I had turned eighteen two months earlier.
The application deadline was in six days.
“Why didn't anyone tell me?””
Mr. Harris looked at me carefully.
“I believe your father received a letter about this a while ago.””
My blood ran cold.
“What?””
“He came into the bakery last month. He asked me whether your mother had left anything important with me.””
I gripped the paper.
“What did he say?””
“He said you didn't need another distraction.””
The words landed like stones.
My father knew.
He had known about the scholarship.
And he'd said nothing.
Before I could ask another question, my phone rang.
Dad.
I answered.
“Where are you?”” he demanded.
“At the bakery.””
“Come home. Now.””
“Why?””
“I said now, Lily.””
Then he hung up.
I looked at Mr. Harris.
He gave me a sympathetic nod.
“Whatever happens, remember something.””
“What?””
“Your mother's dreams don't become less important because someone else doesn't understand them.””
I folded the letter carefully and placed it inside my bag.
Then I headed home.
At six o'clock, I walked into the living room.
My father sat on the sofa.
Patricia sat beside him.
Vanessa stood near the fireplace, holding a champagne-colored shopping bag.
Dad looked up.
“Sit down, Lily.””
I remained standing.
“What is this about?””
He rubbed his forehead.
“Your mother left some things that need to be sorted out.””
Patricia leaned forward.
“It's about the house.””
I frowned.
“What about the house?””
Dad took a deep breath.
“I'm planning to sell it.””
For a moment, I thought I'd misheard him.
“Sell Mom's house?””
“It's too much for us to maintain.””
“This is our home.””
“Lily, please don't make this difficult.””
Vanessa opened the shopping bag.
“Mom and I found a beautiful place closer to my school.””
I stared at her.
“You already knew?””
She smiled.
“Obviously.””
Dad continued.
“We're moving in three weeks.””
I felt the letter inside my bag.
Then I looked at him.
“Did you receive a letter from Marlowe Fashion House last month?””
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
But I noticed.
“Where did you hear that?””
“So you did.””
Patricia immediately stood.
“Daniel, this is not the time.””
I looked at her.
“Why? Because you don't want him to explain why he hid my mother's letter?””
Vanessa laughed.
“Oh my God. Is this about some sewing scholarship?””
I turned toward her.
“How do you know about that?””
She smiled.
“Because Mom told me.””
I looked at Patricia.
She folded her arms.
“Your mother had many unrealistic dreams, Lily. It doesn't mean you have to follow every one of them.””
I felt something inside me harden.
“My mother was a designer.””
Patricia scoffed.
“She was a woman who spent too much time dreaming.””
Dad stood.
“Enough.””
I looked at him.
“Did you know?””
He didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
I turned toward the stairs.
“Lily,” he called.
I stopped.
“You're not going to that scholarship interview.””
I slowly turned around.
“Excuse me?””
“You need to focus on school. We have enough going on.””
I looked at the letter in my bag.
Then at the man who had once promised my mother he'd always protect me.
“I think I can decide what happens to my future.””
His jaw tightened.
“Not while you're living under my roof.””
Vanessa giggled.
“Looks like somebody's finally getting a reality check.””
I walked upstairs without another word.
But before I closed my bedroom door, I heard Patricia whisper something.
May you like
Something that made my blood run cold.
“Daniel, if she finds out about the trust, we're finished.””
