Chapter 4: The Daughter Nobody Wanted
For several seconds, nobody in the living room moved.
I stared at Charles Whitmore, waiting for him to laugh, to admit this was some elaborate trick, or to explain that he had confused me with someone else.
But he didn't.
He simply stood there, gripping his black cane, as though he had just announced the weather.
My mother was crying.
Brianna looked like someone had pulled the floor out from beneath her.
And Adrian had gone strangely quiet.
I turned toward Denise.
“Tell him he's lying.””
My mother wiped her cheeks.
“Nia…”
“Tell him!””
She looked at me, but her mouth trembled without producing a sound.
I took a step backward.
“Twenty-six years. You raised me for twenty-six years. You watched me grow up believing I was your daughter.””
“You are my daughter,” Denise whispered.
“Apparently not.””
“I loved you.””
“Then why didn't you tell me?””
She reached for my arm.
I pulled away.
Charles cleared his throat.
“If you'll allow me to explain—”
“Stay out of this!”” I snapped.
He stopped.
I turned toward Denise again.
“Who is my biological mother?””
My mother closed her eyes.
“Her name was Margaret.””
The name landed like a stone.
Margaret Bellamy.
The woman in my grandmother's old photograph.
The woman whose estate everyone seemed so desperate to control.
“Margaret Bellamy was my mother?””
Denise nodded.
I felt dizzy.
“And Evelyn?””
“She was your grandmother. Margaret was her mother.””
I frowned.
“No. You said Evelyn was Margaret's daughter.””
Denise looked at Charles.
He answered.
“Your grandmother Evelyn was Margaret's biological daughter. Margaret had two children in 1977. One was Denise. The other was you.””
My mind struggled to organize the words.
“That doesn't make sense.””
Charles sighed.
“Your grandmother's records were deliberately altered. Evelyn gave birth to twins. One child was registered under her name. The other was transferred into Margaret's care.””
I looked at my mother.
“So you were the first baby?””
“Yes.””
“And I was the second?””
“Yes.””
“Then why did you raise me?””
Denise's expression crumpled.
“Because Margaret couldn't keep you.””
“Why?””
“Because she was dying.””
Silence.
My mother sat down on the sofa.
“She had a serious heart condition. The doctors told her she might not survive the year. She was also involved in a legal fight over the Bellamy company. Charles's family wanted control of everything.””
Charles tapped his cane against the floor.
“That's a rather generous description.””
Denise ignored him.
“Margaret believed you would be safer if you were raised outside the family. She asked Evelyn to protect you.””
I stared at her.
“And Evelyn gave me to you?””
“She arranged for me to raise you.””
“Why?””
Denise looked down at her hands.
“Because I was her daughter.””
The room seemed to grow smaller.
“So you knew?””
“I knew you were adopted. I didn't know everything about the inheritance.””
“You knew I wasn't yours.””
“I loved you as my own.””
“Then why did you treat Brianna better?””
Denise flinched.
Brianna suddenly stood.
“Stop making this about me!””
I turned.
“Excuse me?””
“You heard me.””
“Brianna, you've spent your entire life getting everything you wanted.””
“And you think that was easy?””
She laughed, but tears ran down her face.
“You think I wanted to be the perfect daughter? You think I enjoyed hearing Mom compare us every time you did something she didn't like?””
I stared at her.
“You were the one who ruined my dress.””
“I know!””
“Then you stole it.””
“I know!””
Her voice cracked.
For the first time, Brianna looked genuinely ashamed.
She reached for the embroidered flowers on the gown.
“Adrian told me the dress was important. He said if I wore it in the campaign, I could finally become part of something bigger.””
I looked at Adrian.
“What campaign?””
He adjusted his jacket.
“It's irrelevant.””
“No. I want to know.””
Charles answered before he could.
“The Bellamy Heritage Collection is being relaunched next month. We intended to present the gown as a rediscovered family design.””
My stomach tightened.
“You were going to claim my work as yours?””
“Not exactly,” Adrian said.
“Then explain it.””
He looked at Charles.
Charles nodded.
Adrian sighed.
“The dress contains a pattern from the original Red Garden collection. If the foundation recognizes it as authentic, the Whitmore family can use that recognition to reopen ownership negotiations over the archive.””
I stared at him.
“You mean the collection my grandmother designed.””
Charles's expression darkened.
“Your grandmother was a talented assistant.””
“She designed it.””
“She contributed.””
“You stole her work.””
He struck his cane against the floor.
“Enough!””
The sound echoed through the room.
“Your grandmother was reckless. She believed talent gave her the right to challenge people who had built something before she was born.””
I looked at him.
“And you believe money gives you the right to steal from her?””
Charles's face turned red.
Denise stood.
“Nia, please. We can discuss this calmly.””
I turned toward her.
“You filed the ownership claim.””
“Yes.””
“You signed a statement saying I stole the design.””
She didn't answer.
“Did Jonathan Vale tell you to do that?””
Her silence was enough.
I looked at Adrian.
“Did you know about the hidden compartment?””
He smiled faintly.
“We suspected there might be something.””
“How?””
“Your grandmother left a pattern note in the archive.””
I remembered the sewing machine.
The strange instructions.
The compartment.
The flowers.
Everything.
Charles stepped closer.
“Your grandmother hid original documents inside that gown. Documents that could complicate the estate's ownership structure.””
“What documents?””
“Transfer agreements. Original design registrations. Family records.””
I shook my head.
“Then why not ask me for them?””
He gave me a cold smile.
“Because you would have refused.””
“You're right.””
I reached for my bag.
My fingers touched the edge of the birth certificate.
I had the documents.
At least some of them.
But there was something else I needed to understand.
“Why did you say the twins had to stand together?””
Charles looked at me.
“Because the Bellamy trust was established to pass to Margaret's two daughters and their descendants. The estate's controlling rights were never supposed to belong exclusively to one branch of the family.””
I looked at Brianna.
“Then she inherits too?””
Charles nodded.
“If her biological mother was Margaret's second daughter, yes.””
Brianna stared at him.
“What does that mean for me?””
“It means you may have a claim.””
She looked at Adrian.
He smiled and took her hand.
“You see? Everything we've been working toward is finally happening.””
I noticed something then.
Brianna didn't look happy.
She looked frightened.
“Working toward?”” I asked.
Adrian released her hand.
“Brianna and I have been researching her family history.””
“For how long?””
“Several months.””
I looked at my sister.
“You knew about this before today?””
She nodded slowly.
“Adrian told me I might be connected to the Bellamy estate.””
“And you didn't tell me?””
“I didn't know about you.””
Charles interrupted.
“Your grandmother's records were incomplete. We only recently located the hospital photograph.””
“Where?””
He looked at Denise.
She looked away.
I suddenly remembered the birth certificate.
The amendment.
My mother's name.
The papers hidden inside the gown.
“Who changed the records?””
Nobody answered.
I looked at Charles.
“Was it you?””
His eyes narrowed.
“Your grandmother made arrangements.””
“That's not an answer.””
“Your grandmother was protecting her children.””
“From whom?””
He leaned toward me.
“From people who believed the Bellamy fortune belonged to them.””
I stared at him.
“Like you?””
His jaw tightened.
Then he reached into his jacket and removed a folded document.
“This is why we came.””
He handed it to Denise.
She looked at it, then at me.
“What is it?””
“A settlement agreement,” Charles said.
“You surrender the documents in your possession, withdraw your competition submission, and agree not to pursue claims against the Bellamy estate.””
I laughed.
“You stole my dress, filed a false claim, and now you want me to sign away my rights?””
“I'm offering you a clean exit.””
“What happens if I refuse?””
Charles's expression became almost gentle.
“Then you'll learn how expensive the truth can be.””
I looked at the agreement.
At the bottom, Jonathan Vale's name was printed beneath a legal authorization.
I recognized the signature from the competition portal.
Then I noticed something else.
The agreement had been prepared two weeks earlier.
Before my mother entered my studio.
Before Brianna wore the gown.
Before I knew about the hidden compartment.
They hadn't simply reacted to my design.
They had planned to take it.
I pushed the document back.
“No.””
Charles sighed.
“Think carefully.””
“I have.””
He turned toward the door.
Adrian followed.
But before leaving, Charles stopped beside Brianna.
“Bring the dress tomorrow morning. The presentation is scheduled for ten.””
Brianna nodded.
My mother stood frozen.
I looked at my sister.
“Don't let them use you.””
She glanced at me.
For a moment, I saw the little girl who used to sit beside me while Grandma Evelyn taught us how to sew.
Then Adrian touched her shoulder.
She turned away.
The front door closed.
I remained in the living room with my mother.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Finally, I asked the question I had been afraid to ask.
“Did Grandma know I was her granddaughter?””
Denise nodded.
“She knew.””
“And did she know you were hiding the truth?””
My mother began to cry again.
“Yes.””
I looked at her.
“Why?””
She wiped her face.
“Because I made a promise.””
“To whom?””
“Jonathan.””
I felt my stomach drop.
“Jonathan Vale?””
She nodded.
“What did you promise him?””
My mother looked toward the window.
Then she whispered:
“I promised that if you ever discovered who you really were, I would make sure you never met Margaret's other family.””
I stared at her.
“Why?””
Her voice broke.
“Because the other twin wasn't dead, Nia.””
I froze.
“What?””
Denise looked directly into my eyes.
“The second daughter Margaret gave birth to wasn't Brianna's mother.””
My blood ran cold.
“Then who was?””
My mother reached for my hand.
And just before she could answer, my phone vibrated.
A new message appeared.
Unknown number.
*Your mother is lying again. Ask her what happened to the woman who gave birth to Brianna.*
I looked up.
May you like
Denise had gone completely white.
And for the first time, I realized that even Charles Whitmore might not know the whole story.
