Chapter 9: The Sister Who Was Never My Rival
Brianna didn't cry.
That frightened me more than anything else.
She simply sat in the hospital waiting room, staring at the adoption papers as though the words might rearrange themselves if she looked long enough.
Jonathan Vale was her biological father.
The man who had manipulated our mother.
The man who had threatened Vivian.
The man who had helped destroy my grandmother's reputation.
The man who had possibly arranged my father's death.
And he had spent years watching Brianna grow up without telling her who she was.
Finally, she looked at me.
“Do you think Mom knew?””
I sat beside her.
“I think she knew more than she told us.””
“That's not an answer.””
“No. It isn't.””
She folded the document.
“Maybe that's why she always treated me differently.””
I looked at her.
“What do you mean?””
“She gave me everything, but she never let me get close to her. If I asked about my biological parents, she said it was complicated. If I wanted to know about Grandma, she changed the subject.””
Brianna swallowed.
“I thought she loved me more than she loved you.””
I stared at her.
“Maybe she was trying to keep you close because she was afraid you'd discover the truth.””
Brianna lowered her head.
“I was horrible to you.””
I didn't answer.
“I took your clothes. Your ideas. Your opportunities. I even ruined the gown.””
She began crying.
“I thought if I had everything, Mom would finally look at me like I mattered.””
I reached for her hand.
“You mattered before any of this.””
She looked at me.
For the first time, I saw something familiar in her expression.
The little girl who used to sit beside me at Grandma Evelyn's sewing table.
The girl who had once cried because she couldn't thread a needle.
The girl I had taught to make crooked little flowers from leftover fabric.
“I miss Grandma,” Brianna whispered.
“So do I.””
We sat together for several minutes.
Then Marlene's phone rang.
She answered.
Her expression changed.
“Where?””
She listened.
Then she looked at me.
“Are you sure?””
A pause.
“Send it to me.””
She hung up.
“What happened?”” I asked.
“Samuel received a message from the court clerk. The Whitmore company has filed an emergency motion to challenge the preservation order.””
“On what grounds?””
“They're claiming the documents were stolen.””
I stood.
“They were in my grandmother's workshop.””
“They're also claiming that the original Red Garden collection was registered under Jonathan Vale's name.””
Brianna frowned.
“But Jonathan isn't a designer.””
Marlene looked at us.
“That's what we need to prove.””
We returned to Samuel's office.
He had already prepared a response.
But when he saw the hospital records, his expression changed.
“Where did you get these?””
“St. Mary's.””
He examined the documents carefully.
“This changes the entire ownership dispute.””
“How?””
“Because the original trust agreement gives controlling rights to the descendants of Margaret Bellamy and Thomas Whitmore. If the adoption records were falsified, the court needs to determine the legitimate beneficiaries.””
I looked at Brianna.
“And Jonathan?””
Samuel nodded.
“If Brianna is his biological daughter, he may have a personal interest in the estate. But that doesn't give him the right to falsify records or claim ownership of the designs.””
Brianna leaned forward.
“Can he inherit anything?””
“Possibly through you, depending on the trust terms. But he cannot simply claim the collection.””
Samuel removed a document from his folder.
“There's another problem.””
I sighed.
“What now?””
“Your father left a recording, but the final section is missing. We need the complete version to establish what he knew before his death.””
I remembered the audio cutting off.
“The second flower.””
Samuel nodded.
“If that document exists, it may contain the missing evidence.””
Marlene looked at me.
“Then we need to find Charles.””
I shook my head.
“Vivian said the second flower was with him.””
Samuel stood.
“I'll contact the authorities and request assistance. Nobody should approach him alone.””
But I knew Charles wouldn't wait for a court order.
He had already stolen the dress once.
He wouldn't stop until he had the documents.
At 4:16 p.m., my mother called.
I answered.
“Nia.””
Her voice sounded exhausted.
“Where are you?””
“Why?””
“Because I need to see you.””
“I'm busy.””
“Please. It's about your father.””
I looked at Brianna.
She heard the word.
“Where?”” I asked.
“Home.””
I hesitated.
Then she added:
“I have something that belongs to you.””
“What?””
“Your grandmother's original sketchbook.””
I froze.
“Where did you get it?””
“Your father gave it to me before he died.””
My chest tightened.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because I was afraid of what was inside.””
I looked at Samuel.
He shook his head slightly.
But I needed to see it.
We arranged to meet at a small restaurant near my mother's house.
Samuel insisted on accompanying us.
Marlene stayed with Brianna.
When we arrived, Denise was sitting alone in a corner booth.
She looked as though she hadn't slept.
A thick brown sketchbook lay on the table.
I sat opposite her.
“What is this?””
“Evelyn's original Red Garden notebook.””
I opened it.
The pages were filled with sketches, fabric notes, and measurements.
Some drawings were signed Evelyn.
Others were signed Clara.
And several bore the initials J.V.
Jonathan Vale.
I turned toward my mother.
“Why are his initials here?””
Denise folded her hands.
“Because he worked for Evelyn before he became a lawyer.””
I blinked.
“What?””
“He wasn't always an attorney. He studied fashion business first. Evelyn trusted him.””
Samuel leaned forward.
“Did he have access to the original collection?””
“Yes.””
“Then he could have copied the designs.””
My mother nodded.
“That's what your father discovered.””
I turned another page.
There was a sketch of my gown.
The midnight-blue silk.
The silver embroidery.
The red flowers.
I stared at it.
“Grandma designed this?””
Denise nodded.
“Not exactly. She created the original pattern for the Red Garden collection. You recreated it in your own way.””
I felt a strange warmth in my chest.
“So I wasn't copying her?””
“No. You were continuing her work.””
I looked at the page.
Beneath the sketch was a handwritten note.
*The red flowers must remain visible. The truth lives beneath them.*
I turned toward my mother.
“What does that mean?””
She hesitated.
“Evelyn told me the flowers were connected to the original trust agreement.””
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because Jonathan said the agreement could destroy us.””
Samuel closed the sketchbook.
“Mrs. Carter, I need you to explain your involvement in the transfer of funds.””
My mother stared at him.
Then she looked at me.
“I'll tell you everything.””
She took a breath.
“Your father discovered that Jonathan had been transferring money from the Bellamy trust into several private accounts. He confronted me because my signature appeared on some of the documents.””
“Did you sign them?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Jonathan told me the money was being used to protect the family estate. He said Evelyn had left debts and that we could lose the house.””
I shook my head.
“Dad knew?””
“Yes. He found out that the money was going to Charles Whitmore.””
Samuel took notes.
“What happened the night of his death?””
Denise's hands began trembling.
“Your father came home around nine. He was furious. He told me he had evidence that Jonathan had altered the inheritance records.””
“And?””
“He said he was going to the police the next morning.””
I leaned forward.
“Did you try to stop him?””
“No.””
“Did you tell Jonathan?””
She closed her eyes.
“Yes.””
My stomach dropped.
“Why?””
“He called me earlier that day. He said if Robert went to the police, both girls would lose everything. He threatened to expose the adoption arrangement and have Brianna taken away.””
Brianna wasn't there to hear it.
But I could imagine her face.
My mother continued.
“I was terrified. I called Jonathan and told him Robert was planning to report him.””
Samuel stopped writing.
“Did you know what Jonathan intended to do?””
“No.””
“Did you know someone was going to tamper with the car?””
She started crying.
“No.””
“Did you meet Charles that night?””
She looked at me.
Then she nodded.
My blood went cold.
“Why?””
“He came to the house. He told me he could make the problem disappear.””
“What did he mean?””
“I thought he meant the financial investigation. I didn't understand.””
“Mom.””
She covered her face.
“The next morning, Robert was dead.””
Silence settled over the table.
I stared at her.
“You knew Charles had threatened Dad.””
“Yes.””
“And you didn't tell the police.””
“I was scared.””
“You let us bury him without telling us what you knew.””
“I thought they would come after you.””
I stood.
“You let me believe my father died because of an accident.””
Denise reached for my hand.
“I was wrong.””
I stepped away.
Samuel asked another question.
“Mrs. Carter, did Jonathan ever tell you who tampered with the vehicle?””
She shook her head.
“No.””
Then she looked at me.
“But I know who was with Charles that night.””
I sat down slowly.
“Who?””
My mother swallowed.
“Adrian.””
I stared at her.
Brianna's boyfriend.
The man who had stolen my dress.
The man who had manipulated my sister.
The man who had been helping Charles from the beginning.
“Are you certain?””
“I saw his car outside the house. He was arguing with Charles. I heard them talking about Robert's brakes.””
Samuel immediately stood.
“That's enough. We need to contact the police.””
My mother grabbed his sleeve.
“There's more.””
He turned.
Denise reached into her purse and removed a small flash drive.
“Your father gave me this the night before he died. I kept it because I didn't know what to do with it.””
I stared.
“What's on it?””
“The original recording. The one he made before the accident.””
Samuel took the drive.
“Why didn't you give this to the authorities?””
“Because I was afraid it would expose me too.””
He placed it inside a protective evidence pouch.
“We'll have it examined.””
But my mother wasn't finished.
She looked directly at me.
“There's something else you need to know about Brianna.””
I frowned.
“What?””
“Jonathan isn't just her biological father.””
I felt a chill.
“What do you mean?””
Denise looked toward the restaurant window.
“Clara wasn't her mother.””
I froze.
“Then who was?””
My mother began to cry.
“Clara carried the baby for someone else.””
Samuel leaned forward.
“Who?””
Denise looked at me.
“Your grandmother Evelyn.””
I stared at her.
“That doesn't make sense.””
“Evelyn was unable to have another child after you were born. She and Jonathan had an affair years earlier, before he became involved with the Whitmores.””
I felt my blood turn cold.
“Brianna is Grandma's daughter?””
Denise nodded.
“Biologically, yes.””
I couldn't speak.
The woman who had taught me to sew had been Brianna's biological mother.
The woman who had protected me had also been the person responsible for keeping Brianna's true identity hidden.
My sister wasn't simply connected to the Bellamy family.
She was Evelyn's daughter.
And Jonathan was her biological father.
Samuel slowly closed his notebook.
“Mrs. Carter, are you saying Jonathan and Evelyn had a child together?””
“Yes.””
I looked at the sketchbook.
The initials.
The photographs.
The hidden documents.
Everything began to fit.
Except one thing.
“Why did Grandma give Brianna to you?””
Denise wiped her eyes.
“Because Jonathan threatened to expose the affair and take her away. Evelyn wanted Brianna to grow up believing she was simply my daughter.””
I stared at my mother.
“And me?””
“You were Margaret's granddaughter. Evelyn believed the two of you would be safer if nobody knew the full truth.””
I leaned back.
My entire family tree had been rewritten.
My grandmother was my protector.
My sister was her secret daughter.
My biological father was a Whitmore.
And the man who had been trying to steal our inheritance was also Brianna's father.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
It contained a photograph of the Bellamy gown.
The lining had been torn completely open.
The red flowers had been removed.
Beneath the photograph was a message.
*Charles has the second flower. Come to the Bellamy runway tomorrow at 10 a.m. if you want the truth about your father.*
Another message arrived.
*Bring Brianna. Jonathan wants his daughter back.*
I looked at Samuel.
He read the messages.
“It's a trap.””
I nodded.
Then I looked at my mother.
“Did Grandma ever tell you why she chose red flowers?””
Denise slowly shook her head.
“No.””
I looked down at the sketchbook.
At the drawing of the gown.
And suddenly, I noticed something I had overlooked.
The red flowers weren't scattered randomly.
There were seven.
Six on the front.
One beneath the left side of the waist.
The same place where I had sewn the hidden compartment.
But the original drawing showed eight.
One flower was missing from the sketch.
And beneath the empty space, Evelyn had written:
*The eighth flower belongs to the daughter who was never meant to exist.*
I looked up.
Brianna wasn't the only secret my grandmother had hidden.
There was another child.
May you like
Another daughter.
And whoever that eighth flower represented might be the only person who knew exactly what happened to my father.
