Chapter 4: My Mother's Signature
The room felt smaller.
Adrian placed the second registration document on the table.
Brianna shook her head.
"I don't know what that is.""
My mother immediately reached for the folder.
"Let me see.""
Adrian moved it away.
"Please don't touch the evidence.""
My mother's face flushed.
"Evidence? We're not criminals.""
"No one has made that allegation," Adrian replied calmly.
"We're establishing ownership.""
I leaned toward the screen.
The second gown was unmistakably my grandmother's design.
I remembered it from the afternoon Eleanor had shown me her old sketchbook.
It had been called The Last Garden.
Unlike the white gown, which represented recovery, this one represented remembrance.
It was designed with dark crimson silk, silver vines, and tiny hand-stitched flowers.
My grandmother had never completed it.
I had spent months reconstructing it from her notes.
But I had kept the finished version in a locked storage cabinet.
Nobody knew about it.
At least, I thought nobody knew.
Adrian turned another page.
"The registration was submitted three weeks ago.""
I looked at the date.
Three weeks earlier, my mother had visited my studio while I was out buying supplies.
I remembered returning to find one of my drawers slightly open.
At the time, I hadn't thought much about it.
Now my stomach twisted.
"Who submitted it?"" I asked.
Adrian pointed to the signature line.
Denise Carter.
My mother immediately started talking.
"I can explain that.""
I stared at her.
"You signed a document claiming ownership of Grandma's design?""
"Don't be ridiculous. I was helping Brianna.""
"How?""
"She needed something for her portfolio.""
"So you took my grandmother's sketches?""
My mother lifted her chin.
"They were sitting in your studio.""
"That doesn't make them yours.""
Brianna looked between us.
"Mom, you said those sketches were yours.""
I turned toward her.
"What?""
Brianna looked uncomfortable.
My mother snapped.
"Be quiet.""
But Brianna continued.
"You told me Grandma had left you the designs, and that Nia was just using them.""
I stared at my mother.
For a moment, I couldn't find my voice.
Then I whispered, "You told her that?""
My mother crossed her arms.
"Your grandmother was my mother too.""
"Yes.""
"So I have a right to her work.""
"No. You have a right to remember her. You don't have the right to steal her designs.""
My mother's face hardened.
"You always have to make everything about yourself.""
I looked at the document.
The signature was genuine.
She hadn't forged it.
She had signed her own name beneath a false claim.
Adrian closed the folder.
"Mrs. Carter, the foundation will suspend the secondary registration pending a legal review.""
My mother looked horrified.
"You're going to suspend my daughter's opportunity because of a family disagreement?""
"Your daughter's opportunity is not the issue. The ownership claim is.""
Brianna stepped forward.
"Mr. Bellamy, I didn't know.""
Adrian studied her.
"Then perhaps you should have asked.""
"I thought the designs belonged to Mom.""
"Your sister is the registered heir.""
Brianna turned toward me.
"Nia, please.""
I looked at her.
"What?""
"Tell them you gave me permission.""
I stared.
She swallowed.
"Just say it was a misunderstanding.""
I almost smiled.
"Did you misunderstand when you told everyone you designed the dress?""
Her eyes filled.
"Mom said you wouldn't mind.""
I turned toward our mother.
"Is that true?""
My mother said nothing.
Brianna continued.
"She told me you always wanted to help me. She said you would be happy if I got the opportunity.""
I looked at my sister.
"Did she also tell you to claim Grandma's second design?""
Brianna shook her head.
"No. I didn't even know the second dress was yours.""
I wanted to believe her.
But then Adrian opened another envelope.
"There's something else.""
He removed a printed email.
It had been sent from my mother's personal account to an independent fashion consultant.
The subject line read:
*Brianna Carter — Exclusive Heritage Collection*
The message included photographs of both gowns.
My mother's words were clear.
My younger daughter is the creative talent in this family. Nia has the technical ability to produce the garments, but Brianna has the vision. We would like to establish Brianna as the rightful designer before the public exhibition.
My hands went cold.
Below the email was another sentence.
The older daughter can continue working behind the scenes. She has always been comfortable in that position.
I read it again.
Behind the scenes.
That was what my mother thought I deserved.
Adrian placed the email down.
"Miss Carter, this correspondence was included in the consultant's report after concerns arose about the ownership claim.""
My mother looked at the floor.
Brianna stared at the paper.
"Mom, you said this was just about getting me a showcase.""
"It is.""
"You said Nia had agreed.""
My mother turned toward her.
"Don't you dare question me.""
Brianna stepped back.
I watched them.
For the first time, my sister was beginning to understand what it felt like to be on the other side of our mother's decisions.
Adrian cleared his throat.
"Miss Carter, I believe you should retrieve your property and return it to the registered designer.""
Brianna looked down at the gown.
Then she began unzipping it.
My mother grabbed her arm.
"What are you doing?""
"Taking it off.""
"Don't be ridiculous!""
Brianna's voice shook.
"Mom, you said everything was legal.""
My mother tightened her grip.
"Put it back on.""
"No.""
"Brianna!""
The young woman who had spent years getting everything she wanted suddenly looked like a frightened child.
She turned toward me.
"Can you help me?""
I hesitated.
Then I stepped forward and helped her remove the gown.
I folded it carefully.
The fabric was still beautiful.
Still mine.
But as I examined the waistline, I noticed something wrong.
The embroidery had been disturbed.
A small section of the inner lining was stretched.
I turned it over.
The concealed zipper was open.
My heart stopped.
"Who opened this?""
Brianna frowned.
"What?""
"The lining. Who opened the compartment?""
My mother looked away.
I stepped closer.
"Mom?""
She didn't answer.
I checked the archival sleeve.
It was still there.
But something was missing.
The small silver identification tag had disappeared.
I looked at Brianna.
"Where is it?""
"I don't know.""
I turned toward my mother.
She finally met my eyes.
For a brief moment, I saw something that wasn't anger.
Fear.
Then she said quietly, "I threw it away.""
The room went completely still.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
"You did what?""
"It looked like some cheap metal piece.""
"That tag was part of the authentication system.""
My mother shrugged.
"Then you should have told me.""
I stared at her.
"You stole the dress, opened the compartment, and destroyed something you didn't understand.""
She lifted her chin.
"I was trying to help my daughter.""
I looked at Brianna.
Then back at my mother.
"Which daughter?""
She didn't answer.
Adrian immediately called the archival specialist.
Within minutes, the team began checking the remaining documentation.
The original authentication record was intact, but the physical tag was important to the exhibition's verification process.
It could be replaced, but the replacement required an additional examination.
That meant the collection's public presentation might be delayed.
I closed my eyes.
Three months of work.
Six months of preparation.
And my own mother had nearly destroyed it because she thought my work was disposable.
Maya placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Nia, breathe.""
I opened my eyes.
Adrian approached.
"We can resolve the authentication issue, but I need to tell you something.""
"What?""
He lowered his voice.
"The person who contacted us about the second design wasn't your mother.""
I frowned.
"Who was it?""
He handed me another page.
A formal complaint.
The name at the bottom made my stomach turn.
It was the name of my former mentor.
Victoria Hale.
The woman who had once promised to help launch my career.
The woman who had introduced me to my first professional supplier.
And the woman who had disappeared from my life two years earlier after accusing me of stealing one of her designs.
Adrian looked at me.
"Miss Carter, I believe someone else has been involved in this for quite some time.""
I stared at the signature.
Then my phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
May you like
The message contained six words.
You should ask your mother about Victoria.
