Chapter 7: The Woman Behind the Bellamy Empire
Nobody spoke.
The letter lay open on the desk, its torn edges curling beneath the fluorescent light.
Margaret held it with both hands.
My mother stood near the doorway, her face drained of color.
Brianna looked between us, clearly trying to understand why a document bearing Denise Carter's name had suddenly become more important than the twelve-million-dollar archive.
I stared at my mother.
“You were a co-founder?””
Denise swallowed.
“That was a long time ago.””
“You helped establish the Bellamy Foundation?””
“Your grandmother and I worked together briefly.””
Margaret let out a humorless laugh.
“Briefly?””
My mother glared at her.
“Don't.””
Margaret placed the letter on the desk.
“Denise, you signed the original partnership agreement. You were listed as the foundation's creative director and Evelyn's business partner.””
I turned toward my mother.
“You told me fashion was a hobby.””
She folded her arms.
“I was trying to protect you from making the same mistakes I made.””
“What mistakes?””
She looked at the floor.
Margaret answered for her.
“Your mother was once an exceptionally talented designer.””
I stared.
“Then why did she stop?””
Margaret opened the leather folder and removed another photograph.
It showed two young women standing in front of a fashion studio.
One was my grandmother.
The other was Denise.
They were both wearing midnight-blue dresses with silver embroidery.
They were laughing.
Actually laughing.
My mother looked happier in that photograph than I had ever seen her.
Margaret placed it beside the original Bellamy agreement.
“Evelyn and Denise started the business together in 1984. Evelyn handled the designs. Denise handled the business and public relations.””
I looked at my mother.
“You designed clothes?””
She gave a bitter smile.
“I used to.””
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because it didn't matter.””
Margaret shook her head.
“It mattered enormously. Denise designed the first collection that made the foundation financially successful.””
My mother turned sharply.
“That's not what we agreed to discuss.””
Margaret ignored her.
“Unfortunately, the partnership deteriorated after Denise began selling original designs to outside buyers without Evelyn's authorization.””
I looked at the photograph again.
“So that's why they separated?””
“Yes.””
My mother stepped forward.
“Evelyn wanted complete control. She believed every sketch, every pattern, every idea belonged to her. I was the one negotiating contracts.
I was the one finding investors. I was the one making sure the business survived.””
Margaret's expression hardened.
“And you were also transferring designs without approval.””
Denise raised her voice.
“I brought money into that company!””
“And Evelyn brought the designs.””
“I deserved something!””
I watched my mother.
For the first time, I wasn't seeing the woman who had criticized my sewing.
I was seeing a woman who had once stood beside my grandmother, shared her dreams, and then destroyed the partnership.
“Why did you leave?”” I asked.
Denise turned toward me.
“Because your grandmother chose Margaret over me.””
Margaret looked stunned.
“That isn't true.””
“She transferred the majority of the company shares to you.””
“After you sold the collection.””
“Because she believed I was a thief!””
“You had sold designs to three separate buyers without authorization!””
My mother slapped her palm against the desk.
“I was trying to build something!””
The room went silent.
Then she looked at me.
“You have no idea what it feels like to work beside someone who gets all the recognition.””
I swallowed.
“Actually, I do.””
Her expression changed.
I continued.
“You spent my entire life making sure Brianna got the recognition. You watched me work on that gown for three months. You knew exactly what it meant to me. And you still handed it to her.””
Denise looked away.
I took a breath.
“You didn't hate fashion, Mom. You hated seeing me succeed at something you once wanted for yourself.””
For a second, I thought she might deny it.
Instead, she whispered, “You sound just like Evelyn.””
I looked at the old photograph.
“Maybe that's why Grandma believed in me.””
Daniel interrupted us.
“We need to discuss the documents.””
He picked up the original Bellamy agreement.
“There's an important issue here. Denise was a co-founder, but that doesn't automatically give her ownership of Evelyn's archive.””
My mother laughed.
“I never said it did.””
“Then why did you participate in the proposed transfer?””
“Because I have a legitimate claim to the original company.””
Margaret shook her head.
“Your original shares were forfeited after the 1986 settlement.””
Denise's face tightened.
“That settlement was never properly enforced.””
“It was signed by both parties and witnessed by the foundation's attorney.””
“Your attorney.””
“Our attorney,” Margaret corrected.
Daniel took out a separate document.
“Actually, there's another complication. The original settlement included a clause allowing Denise to reclaim her shares if she could demonstrate that the disputed designs had been returned and all outstanding licensing payments had been settled.””
My mother looked at him.
“Exactly.””
Daniel nodded.
“But the ledger indicates that several designs were never returned.””
He turned the pages.
“And payments continued to be made through an intermediary company.””
My mother's expression went blank.
I looked at the name.
Thomas Vale.
The man from the photographs.
“Who was he?”” I asked.
Margaret answered.
“He was the agent who purchased the unauthorized designs. He later became a business partner of Adrian's father.””
Adrian, who had remained quiet until then, suddenly spoke.
“My father had nothing to do with this.””
Daniel looked at him.
“Your company has been using several of the disputed designs.””
“They were licensed.””
“By whom?””
Adrian didn't answer.
Daniel turned another page.
“According to these records, the licensing payments were made to a company owned by Denise Carter.””
Brianna stepped away from her mother.
“Mom?””
Denise ignored her.
Adrian took out his phone.
“This meeting is over.””
Daniel stood.
“No one is stopping you from leaving, Mr. Cole. But the documents will remain here.””
Adrian looked at him.
Then he turned toward Brianna.
“Get your things. We're leaving.””
Brianna didn't move.
“What about the gala?””
“We'll handle it.””
“What about the dress?””
Adrian's jaw tightened.
“Brianna.””
She looked at me.
For the first time, she seemed genuinely uncertain.
“Nia, tell them to stop.””
I stared at her.
“Why?””
“Because this is getting out of control.””
I almost laughed.
“You stole my dress, claimed my design, and helped forge documents transferring Grandma's estate. And now you want me to stop?””
She lowered her voice.
“I didn't know about all the legal stuff.””
“You knew you didn't make the gown.””
“I was trying to help Mom.””
I looked at her.
“By taking my future?””
Her eyes filled with tears.
Adrian grabbed her arm.
“Come on.””
She pulled away.
“Don't touch me.””
He stared at her.
Then he walked out.
Brianna remained beside the desk.
My mother looked at her.
“Brianna, come here.””
“No.””
“Don't be ridiculous.””
Brianna shook her head.
“You told me this was legitimate.””
Denise's expression hardened.
“It is.””
“You told me Grandma wanted me to have the label.””
“She did!””
“Then why does that document say I lose everything if I claim someone else's work?””
My mother said nothing.
Brianna looked at me.
“Did you know about that?””
“No.””
She covered her mouth.
Then she began crying.
I didn't comfort her.
Not because I enjoyed seeing her upset.
But because I had spent years comforting someone who never considered my feelings.
At 3:20 a.m., Daniel secured the ledger and arranged for certified copies to be made.
Margaret asked me to stay at her apartment until the gala.
I agreed.
I couldn't face another night in my parents' house.
Before leaving the studio, I returned to Room Seven.
I stood beside my grandmother's sewing machine.
On the cutting table was a small photograph I hadn't noticed earlier.
It showed Evelyn and Denise sitting together at a restaurant.
Between them was a little girl.
I picked it up.
On the back, my grandmother had written:
Denise's first collection. She was so proud that day.
I stared at the picture.
My mother had once been happy creating things.
She had once been proud of her own work.
I wondered when that happiness had turned into resentment.
Then I noticed something written beneath the first sentence.
I hope she remembers that success means nothing if you have to steal someone else's dream to achieve it.
I placed the photograph back on the table.
Margaret appeared in the doorway.
“Ready?””
I nodded.
As we walked toward the entrance, my phone vibrated.
A message from Brianna.
Please call me. I need to tell you something about Adrian.
I stopped.
Margaret noticed.
“What is it?””
I showed her the message.
She frowned.
“Don't respond yet.””
Another message arrived.
He's not planning to marry me.
I stared at the screen.
A third message followed.
He's planning to marry your mother.
I felt the floor shift beneath me.
I read the message again.
Then another notification appeared.
A photograph.
It showed Adrian standing beside Denise in a private restaurant.
His hand was resting on hers.
And my mother was wearing a diamond engagement ring.
I looked at Margaret.
“What's happening?””
She studied the photograph.
Then she whispered something I hadn't expected.
“That's why Denise was so desperate to recover the archive.””
I swallowed.
“Why?””
Margaret looked directly at me.
“Because Adrian isn't trying to buy your grandmother's legacy for himself.””
May you like
She paused.
“Your mother is.””
