Chapter 5: The Name on the Invitation
The next morning, I woke up to seventeen missed calls.
Eleven were from my father.
Four were from Patricia.
Two were from Vanessa.
The remaining notifications were messages from classmates.
Some were apologies.
Some were questions.
A few were invitations to meet for coffee.
But one message stood out.
It was from my father.
Come home immediately. We need to talk before you make another mistake.
I stared at it.
Then I placed my phone facedown.
Ethan had driven me home after prom. He was supposed to pick me up at nine so we could drive to the airport.
I had a flight to New York.
My first real opportunity.
My mother's old dream.
And possibly the biggest secret my family had ever kept from me.
At 8:30, Ethan knocked on my bedroom door.
“Ready?””
I looked at the suitcase beside my bed.
“Almost.””
He noticed the trust documents on my desk.
“Is that what you found out yesterday?””
I nodded.
“There's a trust my mother left me. My father was supposed to manage it.””
“And?””
“Almost four hundred thousand dollars is missing.””
Ethan's expression changed.
“What?””
I handed him the statements.
He scanned the pages.
“Lily, this is serious.””
“I know.””
“Have you told your dad?””
“Not yet.””
He looked at me carefully.
“Are you scared?””
I considered the question.
“Yes.””
Then I zipped my suitcase.
“But I'm more scared of spending the rest of my life pretending nothing happened.””
At 9:05, we arrived at the airport.
I checked my phone one last time.
A new message from Patricia appeared.
You need to come home. Your father is very upset.
I didn't reply.
Instead, I opened my mother's letter and read it again.
Don't let anyone convince you that you have no place in this world.
I folded it carefully and put it inside my purse.
The flight was three hours.
I spent most of it looking out the window.
Ethan sat beside me, occasionally glancing over.
“You okay?””
“I'm trying to imagine what my mother was like in New York.””
He smiled.
“I bet she was exactly like you.””
I laughed.
“Stubborn?””
“Very.””
I looked at him.
“Thank you for coming with me.””
He shrugged.
“Wouldn't miss it.””
When we landed, a black car was waiting outside the terminal.
A driver held a sign.
*LILY CARTER — MARLOWE FASHION HOUSE*
I stopped walking.
Ethan looked at the sign.
“That's definitely you.””
The driver introduced himself as James.
“Mrs. Marlowe asked me to bring you directly to the studio.””
The drive took us through streets filled with yellow taxis, towering buildings, and people rushing past coffee shops.
I pressed my forehead against the window.
I'd never been to New York.
I'd never imagined my first visit would be because of something my mother had left behind.
The car stopped outside a tall glass building.
At the entrance, the name was engraved in gold letters.
*MARLOWE FASHION HOUSE.*
My hands went cold.
A receptionist greeted us.
“Miss Carter?””
“Yes.””
“Mrs. Marlowe is expecting you.””
We followed her through a hallway lined with photographs.
Models wearing extraordinary gowns.
Runway collections.
Magazine covers.
And then I saw it.
A photograph of my mother.
She stood beside Evelyn Marlowe, wearing a black dress and holding a sketchbook.
Underneath was a plaque.
*ELENA CARTER — ORIGINAL CREATIVE PARTNER, MARLOWE FASHION HOUSE.*
I stopped.
My mother had been more than a designer.
She had helped create the company.
“Lily?””
I turned.
A woman with silver hair stood at the end of the hallway.
She wore a cream suit and a delicate gold necklace.
Her eyes were bright.
“Oh, sweetheart.””
She walked toward me.
“You look so much like her.””
I swallowed.
“Mrs. Marlowe.””
“Please. Call me Evelyn.””
She hugged me.
Then she looked toward Ethan.
“And you must be the young man who helped her get here.””
Ethan smiled.
“I'm Ethan.””
“Thank you for looking after her.””
She led us into a large office overlooking the city.
On the wall hung several sketches.
I recognized the handwriting immediately.
My mother's.
Evelyn noticed me staring.
“She left these here.””
I approached the wall.
One sketch showed a long blue gown covered in crimson flowers.
I stopped breathing.
It looked almost exactly like my prom dress.
“Did she design this?””
Evelyn nodded.
“She called it The Rose After Rain.””
I stepped closer.
“Why didn't she ever show me?””
“She wanted to finish it with you.””
I turned.
“What?””
Evelyn sat down.
“Your mother was diagnosed with cancer shortly after she began working on this collection. She continued designing as long as she could, but eventually she had to step away.””
My eyes filled.
“She never told me.””
“She wanted your childhood to remain your childhood.””
Evelyn opened a drawer and removed a folder.
“Your mother also left instructions.””
She placed it in front of me.
Inside were sketches, fabric samples, and handwritten notes.
The final page contained a letter.
Evelyn,
If Lily ever comes to you, please show her the unfinished collection.
Don't tell her what to make.
Don't tell her what to become.
Just give her the opportunity I never had to give her myself.
Let her decide.
I pressed my fingers against the paper.
Evelyn waited quietly.
Then she opened another folder.
“There's something else.””
Inside was a formal scholarship offer.
The Marlowe Young Designers Program.
A full scholarship.
A paid internship.
A place in the company's emerging designers studio.
I stared at it.
“I don't know what to say.””
“You don't have to say anything today.””
Evelyn smiled.
“Your mother believed in you. I would like the opportunity to see why.””
I looked at the offer.
Then I looked at the sketches.
“I want to do it.””
Evelyn's smile widened.
“Good.””
She stood.
“Then let's discuss your first assignment.””
My heart raced.
“Assignment?””
She nodded.
“We're holding a private presentation in six weeks. Each finalist will create a collection inspired by a personal story.””
I looked at the sketches.
“What story?””
Evelyn smiled.
“I think you already know.””
Before I could answer, the office door opened.
A man in a dark suit stepped inside.
“Evelyn, I'm sorry to interrupt.””
She frowned.
“What is it, Richard?””
He glanced at me.
“It's about the Carter trust.””
My stomach dropped.
Evelyn's expression changed.
“What about it?””
Richard placed a folder on her desk.
“Margaret Ellis contacted our legal department this morning. She says the original trustee may have made unauthorized withdrawals.””
I swallowed.
“That's my father.””
Evelyn nodded slowly.
“I was afraid of that.””
She opened the folder.
Inside was a copy of a transaction record.
The amount was larger than any of the previous withdrawals.
Two hundred and ten thousand dollars.
I stared at the recipient name.
*Patricia Carter.*
I felt my stomach twist.
Evelyn looked at me.
“Lily, I need to ask you something.””
“What?””
“Did your father ever tell you why he married Patricia?””
I frowned.
“What does that have to do with the trust?””
Evelyn exchanged a glance with Richard.
Then she pulled out another document.
It was a copy of an agreement dated three weeks before my mother's death.
My father's signature appeared at the bottom.
So did Patricia's.
I read the first paragraph.
Then the second.
My hands began shaking.
It was an agreement concerning the sale of a property.
My mother's property.
The house I'd grown up in.
The house my father had just announced he was selling.
But the final paragraph made my blood run cold.
It stated that Patricia would receive a percentage of the proceeds.
Not because she owned the house.
Not because she had contributed to it.
But because she had been promised the money in exchange for something.
I looked at Evelyn.
“What is this?””
She took a slow breath.
“Your mother discovered something before she died.””
“What?””
“She found out that Patricia had been secretly seeing your father while your mother was still alive.””
I stared at her.
The room became painfully quiet.
Evelyn continued.
“Your mother confronted them. She was preparing to change the terms of her estate when she became too ill.””
I looked at the agreement again.
My father had signed it before my mother died.
Patricia had signed it too.
And suddenly, every little thing began making sense.
The rushed marriage.
The new bedroom.
The missing money.
The way Patricia always seemed to know what my father would do.
But there was one thing I still couldn't understand.
“Why did my mother leave the house to Dad?””
Evelyn looked down.
“She didn't.””
My heart stopped.
“What?””
She turned the page.
There was another legal document.
A property deed.
And my name was printed across the top.
*Sole Beneficiary: Lily Carter.*
I stared at it.
My mother had left me the house.
Not my father.
Not Patricia.
Me.
I whispered, “Then how can Dad sell it?””
Evelyn's expression became serious.
“He can't.””
My phone began ringing.
Dad.
I answered.
His voice was furious.
“Where are you?””
“In New York.””
“Who gave you permission to leave?””
I closed my eyes.
“I'm eighteen, Dad.””
“Don't play games with me. Patricia told me you've been talking to lawyers.””
I looked at the documents.
“It's my money, isn't it?””
Silence.
Then he said something that made my entire body go cold.
“Lily, you have no idea what your mother did to this family.””
I gripped the phone.
“What does that mean?””
He lowered his voice.
“Come home. There are things you need to understand.””
“Then explain them.””
He didn't answer.
Instead, he said:
“Your mother wasn't the person you think she was.””
The call ended.
I stood motionless.
Evelyn walked over and gently placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Lily?””
I looked at her.
“What if everything I know about my mother is a lie?””
Evelyn's expression softened.
“Then I suppose it's time someone finally told you the truth.””
She opened a locked drawer.
Inside was a sealed envelope with my mother's handwriting.
My name was written across it.
And beneath it were six words.
Open only when you know about Patricia.
I stared at the envelope.
My mother had known.
May you like
She had known something was coming.
And whatever was inside that envelope had been waiting for me since the day she died.
