Chapter 3: The Secret Beneath the Lining
Sunday arrived with gray skies and freezing rain.
I spent the afternoon at my studio preparing for the meeting with Margaret Bellamy.
My evidence was organized into three folders.
The first contained my original sketches and dated photographs.
The second contained the receipts for the silk, embroidery thread, lining, and other materials.
The third contained the security footage of Brianna spilling wine on the gown.
I also printed the suspicious submission documents.
But one thing bothered me more than anything else.
The company.
Evelyn Carter Designs LLC.
I searched the public business registry.
The company had been registered six weeks earlier.
Its listed director was Denise Carter.
My mother.
I sat motionless in front of my laptop.
She hadn't simply allowed Brianna to steal my gown.
She had created a business around my grandmother's name.
I clicked through the registration details.
The registered address was my parents' house.
The company description stated that it owned the intellectual property rights to several original fashion collections.
One collection was titled Starlight Bloom.
The name I had given my competition gown.
My hands began to shake.
I opened the attachment again.
The declaration included a statement that the designs had been developed using the private archives of Evelyn Carter, a professional dressmaker whose work had allegedly been passed down exclusively to Brianna.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
My mother had rewritten our family history.
According to the document, Brianna was the rightful successor to my grandmother's design legacy.
And I was nowhere in the story.
I printed everything.
At five thirty, I drove to my parents' house.
The front windows glowed warmly against the rain. I could hear laughter from inside before I even opened the door.
Brianna's voice was unmistakable.
“Adrian says the studio could be ready by January.””
My mother's voice followed.
“That's wonderful, sweetheart.””
I stepped inside.
Everyone turned.
My father, Robert Carter, sat at the dining table with a glass of whiskey. My mother was arranging flowers. Brianna wore a fitted black dress, and Adrian Cole sat beside her, scrolling through his phone.
Adrian looked up.
“Nia. Finally.””
I removed my coat.
“Where's the sketchbook?””
My mother put down the flowers.
“Can we please have dinner first?””
“No.””
Brianna rolled her eyes.
“Here we go again.””
I looked at her.
“Where is Grandmother's sketchbook?””
She took a sip of water.
“It's safe.””
“Where?””
“Adrian's office.””
I turned toward him.
“Why?””
Adrian leaned back in his chair.
“We're using some of the material for the brand launch.””
“You have no right to use it.””
He smiled politely.
“Actually, we have documentation.””
“Documentation signed by people who don't own it.””
My father put down his glass.
“Nia, sit down.””
I remained standing.
“Dad, did you know Mom registered a company using Grandmother's name?””
He looked at Denise.
My mother didn't blink.
“It's a family business.””
“Since when?””
“Since Brianna showed an interest in developing Grandmother's legacy.””
I laughed.
“Brianna doesn't know how to thread a sewing machine.””
Brianna slammed her hand on the table.
“That's enough!””
Adrian touched her arm.
“Relax, sweetheart.””
Then he turned to me.
“Look, Nia. I understand you're upset. But your sister has an opportunity here. We're building a fashion brand, and your work has helped establish the visual direction.””
“My work?””
“Your technical contribution.””
I stared at him.
“You mean the gown I designed?””
He shrugged.
“Let's not get caught up in terminology.””
I pulled a folder from my bag and placed it on the table.
“Then let's get caught up in facts.””
I opened it.
The first page was my original sketch, dated August 12.
The second was a receipt from the fabric supplier.
The third was a photograph of the unfinished bodice.
The fourth was the photograph of Brianna holding the wineglass beside the ruined gown.
My father leaned forward.
“What is this?””
“Proof that I designed the dress.””
Brianna looked at the photograph.
Then she pushed it away.
“That doesn't prove anything.””
“It proves you were in my studio when the dress was damaged.””
“It was an accident!””
“I know. I repaired it.””
My mother crossed her arms.
“Why are you trying to humiliate your sister?””
“Because she's claiming my work as her own.””
Adrian examined the papers.
“You've clearly put a lot of effort into documenting this.””
“I documented every stage of the creation process.””
He nodded slowly.
“That's impressive.””
For a moment, I thought he might actually understand.
Then he closed the folder.
“But the company has already been established. We have legal paperwork, investor agreements, and a signed intellectual property declaration.””
I stared at him.
“None of that makes the designs yours.””
He smiled.
“That's something the lawyers can discuss.””
My father looked uncomfortable.
“Maybe we should find a way to settle this privately.””
I turned to him.
“Would you ask Brianna to settle privately if someone stole her work?””
He didn't answer.
My mother picked up her napkin.
“Your sister is trying to create a future for herself. Why can't you be happy for her?””
I looked at Brianna.
“Did you create the dress?””
She lifted her chin.
“Yes.””
“Did you design the embroidery?””
“Yes.””
“Did you choose the fabric?””
“Yes.””
“Did you make the pattern?””
She hesitated.
Adrian intervened.
“Brianna was the creative director. The technical work was completed with assistance.””
I looked directly at my sister.
“Who assisted you?””
She said nothing.
I leaned forward.
“Who?””
Brianna's face flushed.
“Why does it matter?””
“Because I want to hear you say my name.””
My mother stood up.
“That's enough. This dinner is over.””
“No,” I said.
“We're just getting started.””
I took another document from my bag.
It was the business registration record.
“Mom, you're listed as the director of Evelyn Carter Designs LLC.””
She glanced at it.
“Yes.””
“Did you tell anyone that Grandmother left her intellectual property to Brianna?””
My mother looked away.
“She always said Brianna had a special eye for fashion.””
“That isn't what I asked.””
My father rubbed his forehead.
“Nia, your grandmother is gone. We shouldn't be fighting over old things.””
I looked at him.
“Grandmother's work isn't an old thing. It's her legacy.””
Adrian stood.
“Perhaps we should take a break.””
He walked toward the hallway, speaking quietly into his phone.
Brianna followed him.
My mother began clearing the plates.
I remained at the table.
Then my father leaned closer.
“Listen to me. I know you're angry, but don't destroy your relationship with this family over money.””
I stared at him.
“It's not about money.””
“There's $250,000 involved. Of course it's about money.””
“No, Dad. It's about the fact that you watched them steal something I spent three months creating, and your first concern was keeping everyone comfortable.””
He looked down.
I gathered my papers.
As I stood, I noticed a black garment bag hanging beside the staircase.
The zipper was partly open.
A section of midnight-blue silk was visible.
My heart stopped.
The competition gown.
I walked toward it.
Brianna appeared from the hallway.
“Don't.””
I stopped.
“Why is it here?””
“Because it's mine.””
“Move.””
She blocked the garment bag.
“Nia, please. Don't ruin tonight.””
I looked at her.
“You've already ruined enough.””
I reached for the zipper.
She grabbed my wrist.
“Don't touch it!””
Adrian emerged from the hallway.
“What's going on?””
“She's trying to take my dress,” Brianna snapped.
I looked at him.
“Your dress?””
He stepped between us.
“Listen, Nia. The gown is part of the company's current campaign. We have a commercial agreement with the photographer. You can't just take it.””
“It's my property.””
“Not according to the documents.””
My mother came down the stairs.
“Please, everyone, stop.””
I turned toward her.
“Give me the dress.””
Denise shook her head.
“Brianna needs it for the launch.””
“Then make her another one.””
“She can't.””
The words came out before she could stop herself.
I stared at her.
“What?””
My mother looked toward Brianna.
Brianna's expression changed.
Adrian cleared his throat.
“Denise, perhaps you should—”
But I was already looking at the garment bag.
“Why can't she make another one?””
Nobody answered.
I reached for the zipper.
Adrian caught my hand.
“Don't.””
I pulled away.
Then I unzipped the bag.
The gown appeared beneath the hallway light.
It was beautiful.
But something was wrong.
The inner lining near the waist had been disturbed. A section of the fabric had been pulled away, revealing several stitches that I recognized immediately.
My hidden compartment.
I stepped closer.
Brianna grabbed the hanger.
“Stop looking at it!””
I examined the damaged stitching.
Someone had tried to open the compartment.
And they had failed.
I looked at my sister.
“Did you touch the lining?””
She didn't answer.
“Brianna, did you try to open it?””
Adrian stepped forward.
“That's enough. The dress is leaving with us tomorrow.””
I looked at him.
“What's inside it?””
His face went still.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
My mother looked between us.
“What are you talking about?””
I turned toward the gown.
“There's a hidden compartment beneath the inner lining. I put something inside it when I finished the dress.””
Brianna's face had gone pale.
“What did you put in there?””
I smiled for the first time that evening.
“Something that belongs to me.””
Adrian stepped closer.
“Nia, I think you should leave.””
I didn't move.
“Why? Is there something you're afraid I'll find?””
He lowered his voice.
“Don't make this worse.””
I looked at Brianna.
“Did he tell you what he was looking for?””
She glanced at him.
That single glance told me more than a confession could have.
My mother moved toward the garment bag.
“Give me the dress.””
I stepped aside.
“Go ahead.””
Denise hesitated.
I continued.
“Open the lining. See what's inside.””
My mother looked at Adrian.
He shook his head almost imperceptibly.
Then my phone rang.
Margaret Bellamy.
I answered on speaker.
“Hello?””
“Nia, I'm glad you've answered. We have an urgent development regarding your sister's submission.””
Everyone went silent.
“What happened?”” I asked.
Margaret took a breath.
“Our legal team has examined the company documents submitted by Brianna Carter. There's a serious discrepancy involving the ownership of the original designs.””
I looked at my mother.
“What kind of discrepancy?””
“Ms. Carter, the company claims that your grandmother transferred her entire design archive to your sister before her death.””
My father slowly stood up.
Margaret continued.
“But we've discovered that the legal document used to support that claim contains a signature that may not be authentic.””
I felt the room shift around me.
My mother gripped the edge of the table.
Adrian reached for Brianna's phone.
And then Margaret said the words that changed everything.
“There's something else. Your grandmother left a registered design archive with our foundation many years ago. It includes a sealed ownership instruction that specifically names the person authorized to inherit her work.””
I stared at the dress.
My fingers brushed the silver thimble in my pocket.
“Who does it name?”” I whispered.
Margaret paused.
Then she answered.
“Nia, before I tell you, I need to ask you something. Have you ever seen a small silver key engraved with the letter E?””
I slowly looked toward my grandmother's old sewing machine, sitting in the corner of my studio bag.
The key had been hidden inside its wooden drawer for seven years.
I had never understood what it opened.
May you like
And now I was beginning to suspect that my grandmother had known exactly what my family would do.
*End of Chapter 3.*
