Chapter 4: The Letter My Mother Left Behind
For nine years, my mother's handwriting had been buried beneath a secret.
Now it sat in my trembling hands, sealed inside an envelope my father had apparently hoped I would never find.
Vanessa stood on the opposite side of the coffee table, her fingers curled around the edge so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.
"Give me that envelope, Nia.""
I held it against my chest.
"Why?""
"Because you don't understand what it contains.""
"Then explain it.""
"I don't owe you an explanation.""
My father made a small, broken sound.
"Vanessa, please.""
She turned on him.
"Don't you dare start acting innocent now, Daniel. You were there. You signed the papers.""
My father lowered his head.
I stared at him.
"What papers?""
Neither answered.
I looked down at the envelope again. My mother's handwriting slanted slightly to the right, just as I remembered from the birthday cards she used to leave beside my bed.
For Nia. Open when you're old enough to understand why I fought.
I was twenty-three years old.
If that wasn't old enough, I didn't know what was.
I broke the seal.
Inside was a folded letter, two photographs, and a small brass key attached to a faded blue ribbon.
The first photograph showed my mother standing outside a brick building with a sign that read *CARTER DESIGN STUDIO*.
She was smiling.
Not the tired smile I remembered from the hospital. Not the careful smile she wore when bills arrived and she pretended everything was fine.
This was a smile of pure excitement.
She stood beside a younger version of herself in a cream-colored blouse, her arm wrapped around the woman's shoulders.
The woman was Vanessa.
I nearly dropped the photograph.
"Why are you in this picture?"" I asked.
Vanessa's face went rigid.
"That was a long time ago.""
"You told me you barely knew my mother before Dad married you.""
"I said we weren't close.""
"You were standing outside her design studio.""
"She asked me to help with a photo shoot.""
I turned the photograph over.
A date was written on the back: March 2017.
My mother had died in November that year.
Eight months before her death, she and Vanessa had apparently been close enough to share a business.
I unfolded the letter.
The paper smelled faintly of dust and lavender.
My mother's first words made my knees weak.
My darling Nia,
If you're reading this, then something has happened that I prayed you would never have to face. I wanted to tell you everything myself, but your father believes silence will protect you. I hope he is right. I fear he is not.
I stopped.
My father covered his mouth with one hand.
Vanessa whispered, "This is ridiculous.""
I continued reading.
You know that I sew because I love making beautiful things. What you don't know is that I have spent the last two years building a collection that could change our lives. I have worked with a company that wants to bring my designs to stores across America.
But there is a problem. Someone I trusted has begun claiming that my designs belong to them.
My eyes moved to the next line.
I discovered that sketches had been copied from my studio. Photographs had been taken without permission. Agreements were being discussed behind my back.
I looked up.
"Who was she talking about?""
Vanessa shook her head.
"Your mother was taking medication near the end. She was exhausted. She was frightened of losing her business. You cannot take every word in that letter as fact.""
I stared at her.
"She was frightened because someone was stealing her designs?""
"You don't know that.""
"Then why are you afraid of this letter?""
Vanessa reached for the paper.
I stepped away.
"Don't touch it.""
Her expression changed.
For a moment, the woman who had controlled my childhood disappeared, and I saw someone who understood that the past was finally catching up with her.
I continued reading.
I have asked Daniel to keep the original contracts and sketches somewhere safe. He says he will. I want to believe him.
If my collection is ever sold without my permission, please remember this: I did not give away my work. I did not surrender my name. And I would never willingly sign away the future I am trying to build for you.
My vision blurred.
I wiped my eyes with the heel of my hand and forced myself to read the final paragraph.
There is one more thing you must know. The blue portfolio is not the only place where I kept evidence. The key in this envelope belongs to a storage unit I rented before you were born. I placed something there that could protect you if anyone ever tried to take what belongs to you.
Ask your father for the storage agreement. If he refuses, look inside the lining of my old sewing machine case.
Whatever happens, Nia, do not let anyone make you ashamed of my name.
Love always,
Mom.
The letter slipped from my fingers.
For a moment, the room was completely silent.
Then I looked at my father.
"Did you know about this?""
He nodded slowly.
"Yes.""
The answer felt like a knife.
"You knew she left me a letter?""
"She asked me to give it to you when you were older.""
"Then why didn't you?""
He wiped his face.
"Because I was afraid.""
"Of what?""
"Of losing everything.""
I laughed once, without humor.
"You let me believe my mother was forgotten. You let Vanessa wear her designs. You let me grow up thinking her work was worthless. And you did all of it because you were afraid of losing everything?""
"I was trying to protect our family.""
"Which family, Dad? The one you had with Mom, or the one you built with Vanessa?""
He looked as though I had struck him.
Vanessa moved toward the door.
I caught her eye.
"Where are you going?""
"To get some air.""
"No. You're going to tell me what happened.""
She turned sharply.
"Your mother was not the saint you imagine.""
I felt my entire body go still.
"Don't.""
"She was stubborn. Suspicious. She accused everyone of trying to take advantage of her.""
"Because someone was.""
"She accused me of stealing from her.""
"Did you?""
Vanessa's lips parted.
Then she said, "I helped her build that collection.""
"That isn't what I asked.""
"I spent months arranging meetings. I introduced her to photographers. I helped her find buyers.""
"Then why is your name on the contract?""
"Because someone had to manage the business.""
"Mom was the designer.""
"And I was the person who knew how to make her work profitable!""
Her voice cracked through the living room.
I stared at her.
For years, Vanessa had told me my mother was a woman who had never accomplished anything significant. Now she was claiming she had been essential to the very collection she had stolen.
"You knew her work was valuable," I said.
"That's why you took it.""
Vanessa's cheeks flushed.
"You have no idea what I sacrificed.""
"What did you sacrifice? Your conscience?""
She slapped the coffee table with her palm.
"Your mother was going to destroy everything!""
My father stood.
"Vanessa!""
She froze.
The room seemed to shrink around us.
I took one step toward her.
"What does that mean?""
Vanessa looked from me to my father.
Then she made a mistake.
She glanced at the letter.
"The storage unit won't help you," she said.
"Whatever your mother put there, it won't change the contract.""
I stared at her.
"I never told you what the letter said about the storage unit.""
Her face drained of color.
My father slowly turned toward her.
"Vanessa," he whispered.
"How did you know about that?""
She said nothing.
And in that silence, I understood something far worse than the fact that she had stolen my mother's designs.
She had known about the evidence my mother had hidden.
She had known where to look.
And she had spent nine years making sure I never discovered it.
My father reached for the brass key.
I pulled it away.
"Don't.""
"Nia, let me explain.""
"No. You've had nine years.""
I folded the letter carefully and placed it in my bag.
Then I took the blue portfolio.
Vanessa blocked the doorway.
"You cannot take those documents out of this house.""
"Watch me.""
"They belong to the estate.""
"Then you can explain that to the lawyers.""
She stared at me, her face twisting with fury.
"You will regret this.""
I opened the front door.
"Maybe. But at least I'll regret something I chose for myself.""
I stepped into the rain.
Behind me, my father called my name.
I didn't turn around.
My phone buzzed as I reached my car.
Patricia Wells had sent a message.
*We have received a formal notice from Bellamy House. They are requesting that you withdraw from the competition immediately. Please call me before taking any action.*
I read it twice.
Then another message appeared.
This one came from an unknown number.
*Your mother wasn't the only person who kept a secret. Ask Daniel what happened the night Evelyn signed the final agreement.*
I looked through the rain-streaked windshield toward the house.
Vanessa stood behind the living-room curtains.
May you like
She was watching me.
And for the first time, I wondered whether my mother's death and the stolen collection were connected in a way no one had dared to tell me.
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