Chapter 4: The Woman Who Knew My Mother
I didn't move for almost a full minute after the call ended.
The elevator doors opened, but I barely noticed.
Your mother was the rightful co-founder of this company.
Those words kept repeating in my head.
My mother had spent her final years repairing other people's clothes, carefully counting every dollar, and refusing to buy herself anything new.
She had never told me she owned part of a fashion empire.
It didn't make sense.
I stepped out of the elevator and immediately called the unknown number back.
It went straight to voicemail.
I tried again.
Nothing.
Then a message appeared.
Meet me at the old Bellamy showroom. 7:00 p.m. Come alone. Don't tell Arthur.
I stared at the screen.
The old showroom?
I had never heard of it.
A voice interrupted my thoughts.
"Maya?""
I turned.
Helen stood near the reception desk, holding a folder.
"Is everything all right?""
I quickly locked my phone.
"Yes. Just a family matter.""
Helen studied my face.
"You're a terrible liar.""
I forced a small smile.
"I'm sorry.""
She glanced toward the elevators.
"Arthur has been looking for you. He wants to discuss your mother's collection.""
My stomach tightened.
"Did he mention anything about October 14, 1998?""
Helen's expression changed.
Only for a second.
But I noticed.
"Why are you asking?""
I hesitated.
"Because that date appears in my mother's notebook.""
Helen lowered her folder.
"Maya, there are things about that period that are complicated.""
"Was my mother really a co-founder?""
Helen didn't answer.
Instead, she looked toward the reception area to make sure nobody was listening.
"Come to my office.""
Helen closed the door behind us.
She offered me a chair, but I remained standing.
"I spoke to Victoria Bellamy.""
Helen froze.
"What?""
"She called me.""
Helen slowly placed her folder on the desk.
"What exactly did she say?""
"She said my mother was the rightful co-founder of Bellamy House.""
Helen closed her eyes.
For several seconds, the only sound was the ticking clock on the wall.
Then she sat down.
"Victoria shouldn't have contacted you.""
"Why?""
"Because she has spent twenty-eight years trying to rewrite what happened.""
I stared at her.
"That's interesting. She said the same thing about you.""
Helen looked up sharply.
"She did?""
"She told me not to trust you.""
A bitter laugh escaped Helen.
"Of course she did.""
I stepped closer.
"Then tell me the truth.""
Helen looked toward the window.
"Your mother and Arthur Bellamy started this company together. Not officially, not in the way the public understood it. But in the beginning, they were partners.""
My heart started racing.
"What kind of partners?""
"Eleanor created the original designs. Arthur handled financing, manufacturing, and business operations. They were young, ambitious, and convinced they could build something extraordinary.""
"Then what happened?""
"Victoria returned from studying abroad. She had always believed she deserved a leadership position in the company.""
Helen paused.
"She was Arthur's only child. She expected to inherit everything.""
I frowned.
"But why would that involve my mother?""
"Because Arthur intended to give Eleanor a significant ownership stake. He believed her creative contribution was just as important as his financial investment.""
I felt my fingers tighten.
"And Victoria didn't agree.""
"No.""
Helen opened a drawer and removed an old photograph.
It showed three people standing outside a fashion exhibition.
My mother.
Arthur.
And a younger woman with long dark hair.
Victoria.
"Your mother trusted Victoria," Helen said.
"They were close once. Almost like sisters.""
I looked at the photograph.
"Then why did Victoria betray her?""
Helen hesitated.
"Because of the ownership agreement.""
She placed another photograph on the desk.
This one showed my mother standing beside a large collection of dresses.
"On October 14, 1998, Eleanor was supposed to sign the final partnership documents. But before the meeting, several original sketches disappeared.""
"Victoria took them?""
"We believed she did. But nobody could prove it.""
"Why was my mother accused?""
"Because the missing sketches were later found in the possession of another designer. Victoria claimed Eleanor had sold them.""
My chest tightened.
"That wasn't true.""
"I know.""
"How?""
Helen looked directly at me.
"Because I saw the original documents.""
I stepped back.
"You knew?""
Helen's face fell.
"I was twenty-six. I worked in administration. I was too young and too frightened to challenge Victoria's influence.""
"You let my mother take the blame?""
Helen lowered her eyes.
"Yes.""
The answer hit harder than I expected.
My mother had spent decades carrying a shame that didn't belong to her.
And this woman had known.
I turned toward the door.
"Maya, please.""
I stopped.
Helen's voice trembled.
"I've regretted that decision every single day.""
"Regret didn't give my mother her career back.""
"No. It didn't.""
"She died believing nobody would ever know the truth.""
Helen wiped her eyes.
"I know.""
I looked at the photograph again.
"Then help me find the documents.""
Helen nodded.
"I will.""
But as I reached for the door, she spoke again.
"There's something else you should understand. If Victoria has contacted you, she isn't doing it out of kindness.""
I turned.
"What does she want?""
Helen's expression became serious.
"She wants something your mother left behind.""
At 6:45 p.m., I arrived at the old Bellamy showroom.
The building stood several blocks away from the company's modern headquarters.
Its exterior was faded, and the windows were covered with dust. A brass sign beside the entrance was almost impossible to read.
I pushed the door open.
The smell of old wood and fabric greeted me.
A single light glowed at the far end of the room.
"Victoria?""
A woman stepped out from behind a mannequin.
She was in her early fifties, with dark hair threaded with silver.
Her face looked tired.
But her eyes were unmistakable.
"Hello, Maya.""
I didn't move.
"Why did you tell me my mother was a co-founder?""
Victoria looked at the old runway photographs lining the walls.
"Because it's true.""
"Then why did she die without knowing anyone would believe her?""
Victoria's jaw tightened.
"Because I was a coward.""
I stared at her.
She walked toward a long table and placed an envelope on it.
"I was twenty-seven when everything happened. I thought I was protecting my father's company. I thought Eleanor was going to take something that belonged to my family.""
"She was your family.""
Victoria looked at me.
"Yes. She was.""
Her voice cracked.
"I loved your mother, Maya.""
I almost laughed.
"That's an interesting way of showing it.""
Victoria accepted the accusation without defending herself.
"I know.""
She opened the envelope.
Inside was a faded document bearing Arthur Bellamy's signature.
And beneath it was another signature.
Eleanor Carter.
I leaned closer.
The document was dated October 14, 1998.
It was a partnership agreement.
My mother's name appeared beside a percentage.
<text weight="semibold" color="default" size="md">45% OWNERSHIP — ELEANOR CARTER</text>
I stared.
"Forty-five percent?""
Victoria nodded.
"Your mother was supposed to own almost half the company.""
My throat went dry.
"Where is the original?""
Victoria looked at me.
"That's what I've been trying to find.""
I frowned.
"You said you had documents.""
"I have copies. The original was hidden before the agreement could be registered.""
"Who hid it?""
Victoria took a long breath.
"Your mother.""
I stared at her.
"Why?""
"Because she discovered that someone had changed the financial records. Someone had used the company to move money without Arthur knowing.""
"Who?""
Victoria looked toward the dark hallway.
Then she whispered:
"My father.""
I felt the floor shift beneath me.
Before I could respond, headlights swept across the showroom windows.
A car had stopped outside.
Victoria immediately gathered the documents.
"Someone followed you.""
"What?""
She grabbed my wrist.
"Maya, listen to me. You must never let Vanessa get her hands on that sketchbook.""
I pulled away.
"Why is Vanessa involved?""
Victoria looked terrified.
"Because she's not just my former assistant.""
May you like
She leaned closer.
"She's my daughter.""
