Chapter 3: The Design They Tried to Bury
"Vanessa," Arthur said quietly.
"Close the door.""
She did.
Her eyes remained fixed on the blue sketchbook.
"What is that doing here?""
Arthur looked at her.
"You recognize it?""
Vanessa recovered quickly.
"It's an old notebook. I'm sure there are thousands of those in the archives.""
Helen folded her arms.
"Not this one.""
Vanessa turned toward her.
"Is there a reason we're discussing old paperwork when the autumn collection is falling apart?""
Arthur tapped the notebook.
"Because this paperwork concerns the woman whose designs built the foundation of this company.""
Vanessa let out a short laugh.
"With respect, Arthur, I don't think we should romanticize the past.""
"Romanticize?""
His voice sharpened.
"Your generation seems to have forgotten that this company was built by people who actually created things.""
Vanessa's jaw tightened.
I stood silently near the desk.
I didn't know what to do with my hands.
Arthur turned toward me.
"Maya, would you mind waiting outside for a moment?""
I nodded.
But before I could leave, Helen touched my arm.
"Actually, I'd like her to stay.""
Vanessa immediately objected.
"Helen, this is an executive discussion.""
"Then perhaps you should start behaving like an executive.""
Olivia, who had been standing near the door, looked down to hide a smile.
Vanessa noticed.
"Something amusing, Olivia?""
"No.""
"Then perhaps you should return to your desk.""
Arthur raised his hand.
"Enough.""
Silence fell.
He looked at Vanessa.
"I want the archive records from the 1998 collection. Every original design submission, every contract, and every revision.""
Vanessa's face tightened.
"That's going to take time.""
"Then take the time.""
"The archive is being reorganized.""
"Then reorganize it faster.""
Vanessa nodded stiffly.
"Of course.""
She turned toward the door.
Before leaving, she looked at me.
It wasn't the contemptuous expression she had worn the previous day.
It was something colder.
A warning.
An hour later, Helen invited me to the design studio.
The room was enormous.
Long tables stretched beneath bright overhead lights. Rolls of fabric stood against the walls, and mannequins wore unfinished gowns in shades of ivory, emerald, and deep red.
Several designers were working on the upcoming autumn international collection.
I stopped near the entrance.
Helen noticed.
"Beautiful, isn't it?""
I nodded.
"It's incredible.""
"This is where your mother once worked.""
I turned toward her.
"Really?""
"Yes. That table near the windows was hers.""
She pointed toward a long wooden workbench.
I walked closer.
There were scratches along its surface, faded pencil marks, and tiny holes from old pins.
For some reason, I felt my throat tighten.
I imagined my mother standing there, perhaps with a pencil behind her ear, explaining a sleeve construction to another designer.
I imagined her laughing.
I had never seen that part of her life.
"She loved this place," Helen said.
I touched the edge of the table.
"Why didn't she ever tell me?""
Helen was quiet for a moment.
"Perhaps because remembering it hurt too much.""
A young designer approached us.
She had short brown hair and wore a black apron covered in chalk marks.
"Helen, the fabric samples for the eveningwear section are ready.""
Helen nodded.
"Thank you, Sophie. This is Maya Carter.""
Sophie smiled.
"Hi. Nice to meet you.""
"Nice to meet you too.""
"Are you joining the team?""
"I don't know yet.""
Sophie glanced at my portfolio.
"Well, I hope you do. We're desperately short on people who can actually construct a garment instead of just making pretty mood boards.""
I laughed.
Helen smiled.
"That's enough, Sophie.""
"Sorry.""
Helen turned toward me.
"There's something else I want you to see.""
She led me to a large presentation board at the far end of the room.
Several photographs were pinned across it.
They showed different silhouettes for the upcoming autumn collection.
At the center was a photograph of a pale silver gown.
I stopped walking.
My breath caught.
It was almost identical to the design in my mother's sketchbook.
The same sculptural neckline.
The same layered silver embroidery.
The same flowing silhouette.
But something was wrong.
I looked at the small label beneath the photograph.
*THE CELESTE GOWN — DESIGN BY VANESSA REED.*
I stepped closer.
"Who designed this?""
Helen didn't answer immediately.
I looked at the photograph again.
"I've seen this before.""
"Where?""
"In my mother's sketchbook.""
Helen's expression darkened.
I opened the notebook and found the original drawing.
The date was written in the upper corner.
June 1998.
I held it beside the photograph.
The similarities were unmistakable.
Sophie leaned closer.
"That's strange.""
I looked at her.
"What?""
She examined both designs.
"The construction details are almost identical. Even the asymmetrical embroidery placement.""
Helen nodded slowly.
"That's what I was afraid of.""
I turned toward her.
"Vanessa copied my mother's design?""
"Let's not jump to conclusions. We need the archive records first.""
But I could see the answer in her face.
Someone had taken my mother's work once.
And now, almost three decades later, one of those designs was being presented under another woman's name.
My stomach twisted.
"Does Vanessa know about the original sketchbook?""
Helen looked toward the glass offices.
"I suspect she knows more than she's admitting.""
At lunchtime, Olivia found me sitting alone in the employee cafeteria.
She placed a sandwich and a bottle of water on the table.
"You're going to need these.""
I smiled.
"Thank you.""
She sat opposite me.
"So, what happened with Arthur?""
I hesitated.
"He knew my mother.""
Olivia's expression softened.
"Really?""
"She apparently designed a collection for Bellamy House in 1998.""
Olivia nearly dropped her fork.
"Wait. Your mother was Eleanor Carter?""
I stared at her.
"You know her?""
Olivia shook her head.
"Not personally. But I've heard the name.""
"From whom?""
"My grandmother. She used to collect old fashion magazines. There was a story about a young designer whose collection disappeared before it launched.""
My heart started beating faster.
"What happened to her?""
"According to my grandmother, the designer was accused of stealing someone else's work. Her career ended almost overnight.""
I looked down at my sandwich.
"That was my mother.""
Olivia reached across the table.
"I'm so sorry.""
I nodded.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Olivia leaned forward.
"There's something else you should know.""
I looked up.
"Vanessa has been acting strangely all morning.""
"How?""
"She asked the archive team to remove several old storage boxes. She also requested access to the private design records.""
"Why would she do that?""
Olivia lowered her voice.
"I don't know. But I heard her arguing with someone on the phone.""
"What did she say?""
Olivia glanced around.
"She said, 'The Carter girl has the original book. We need to make sure it never reaches Arthur.''"
My sandwich suddenly felt heavy in my stomach.
"She said that?""
Olivia nodded.
"Word for word.""
I stared at her.
"Why didn't you tell Helen?""
"I wanted to make sure I heard correctly.""
I pushed my chair back.
"Where is Vanessa now?""
"Probably in her office.""
I stood.
"Maya, wait.""
I turned.
Olivia looked worried.
"Please don't confront her alone. She's not someone who accepts being challenged.""
I thought about my mother.
About the years she had spent working quietly, sewing clothes for people who would never know how talented she was.
About the sketchbook hidden in my apartment.
And about the design now hanging on the wall with Vanessa's name beneath it.
"I don't want to fight her," I said.
I picked up my bag.
"I just want the truth.""
Vanessa's office was at the end of the executive corridor.
The door was slightly open.
I knocked.
"Come in.""
She was standing behind her desk, speaking on the phone.
"Yes, I understand. No, the original records won't be a problem.""
She looked up.
Her eyes landed on me.
"I'll call you back.""
She ended the call.
"What do you want?""
I stepped inside.
"I need to ask you something.""
"Then ask quickly.""
I opened my sketchbook to the silver gown.
"Why is this design being presented as yours?""
Vanessa stared at the page.
Then she laughed.
"Is that what this is about?""
"This design was created by my mother in 1998.""
"Your mother?""
"Eleanor Carter.""
Vanessa leaned back in her chair.
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then she smiled.
"Ah. Now I understand.""
"Understand what?""
"Why Helen is suddenly so interested in you.""
I placed the sketchbook on her desk.
"I want the original designer credited.""
Vanessa looked at the drawing.
Then she slowly closed the notebook.
"Listen carefully, Maya. The fashion industry doesn't run on family stories and old notebooks.""
"It runs on original work.""
Her smile vanished.
"You have absolutely no idea what you're talking about.""
"Then explain the design.""
She stood.
"I don't have to explain anything to you.""
"Did you create it?""
Vanessa slammed her hand against the desk.
"Get out.""
I didn't move.
"Did you?""
Her face turned red.
"You think because Helen gave you ten minutes of attention, you suddenly have some kind of power here?""
"No. I think my mother deserves the truth.""
Vanessa walked around the desk.
"You should be very careful.""
"Why?""
"Because I can make sure you never work in this industry.""
I stared at her.
"Is that what happened to my mother?""
Her expression changed.
Just slightly.
But enough.
I took a breath.
"What did you do to her?""
Vanessa grabbed the sketchbook and shoved it toward me.
"Your mother was a nobody. She made a mistake, and she paid for it. That's all you need to know.""
My fingers went cold.
"She was accused of stealing.""
"She was.""
"Was it true?""
Vanessa stepped closer.
"Some people are simply not meant to succeed, Maya. Your mother was one of them.""
I picked up the sketchbook.
"You don't get to decide that.""
Vanessa laughed.
"Oh, I already have.""
I turned toward the door.
Then she spoke again.
"And Maya?""
I stopped.
"If you bring that notebook to Arthur Bellamy, don't expect him to believe you.""
I looked over my shoulder.
"Why not?""
Vanessa's smile returned.
"Because the person who originally stole your mother's collection was his own daughter.""
My entire body went still.
Arthur Bellamy had a daughter.
And according to Vanessa, she had been responsible for destroying my mother's career.
But Vanessa wasn't finished.
She leaned against her desk and delivered the final blow.
"Her name was Victoria Bellamy. And she's the woman who taught me everything I know.""
I walked out without answering.
My mind was racing.
Victoria Bellamy.
Arthur's daughter.
The woman who had allegedly stolen my mother's designs.
I reached the elevator and pressed the button.
Just as the doors began to close, my phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
One message.
Don't trust Helen Brooks. She knows exactly what happened to your mother.
A second message appeared.
And if you want to know why Eleanor Carter disappeared from the fashion world, ask Arthur Bellamy what happened on October 14, 1998.
I stared at the screen.
That was the exact date written on the envelope inside my mother's sketchbook.
Then my phone rang.
The caller ID showed a private number.
I answered.
A woman's voice came through, soft but unmistakably tense.
"Maya Carter?""
"Yes. Who is this?""
"My name is Victoria Bellamy.""
I stopped breathing.
She continued.
"I understand you've found your mother's original designs.""
"How do you know about that?""
There was a long silence.
Then she whispered:
"Because I was the one who put them in her hands.""
I gripped the phone.
"What?""
Victoria took a shaky breath.
"Your mother didn't steal that collection, Maya. She didn't even know what was inside the final envelope.""
My heart pounded.
"What final envelope?""
Her voice dropped.
"The one that proves who really owned Bellamy House.""
And before I could ask another question, she said something that changed everything.
"Your mother wasn't just a designer. She was the rightful co-founder of this company.""
The call disconnected.
I stood inside the elevator, staring at my reflection in the golden doors.
I had come to Bellamy House hoping for a junior design assistant position.
But my mother's sketchbook might hold the secret to an empire.
May you like
And someone inside that building was terrified I would discover it.
*For Chapter 4–6, should the next twist focus on Victoria revealing the family secret, or Vanessa desperately trying to destroy the evidence first?*
