Chapter 8: The Money My Mother Never Received
My father sat down heavily.
The room was silent except for the sound of paper moving beneath his fingers.
“Vanessa,” he said, “what is this?””
She didn't answer.
He read the agreement again.
“This says you received royalties from Eleanor's designs.””
Vanessa folded her arms.
“It was a business arrangement.””
“Without her knowledge?””
“She knew.””
“Then why is her signature missing?””
Vanessa's expression hardened.
“Richard, you don't understand how business works.””
I stepped closer to the desk.
“Explain it to me.””
She laughed.
“You wouldn't understand.””
I smiled sadly.
“You've spent years saying that.””
Then I held out my hand.
“Give me the document.””
My father passed it to me.
I couldn't read the printed text independently, so Mrs. Collins began reading it aloud.
The agreement described a collection of evening gowns created by Eleanor Carter.
Vanessa had been listed as the commercial representative.
She was authorized to negotiate with retailers, arrange production, and distribute the designs.
But the agreement also contained a condition.
Eleanor was supposed to receive forty percent of the profits.
Mrs. Collins stopped.
“There's something wrong here.””
“What?””
She examined the signature page.
“The agreement is signed by Vanessa, but the signature attributed to Eleanor looks different from the one on her letter.””
I remembered my mother's signature.
I had spent years feeling the raised grooves beneath the ink on her handwritten cards.
“Can we verify it?””
My father nodded.
“We can contact a document examiner.””
Vanessa laughed.
“You're all acting like I've committed some terrible crime. Eleanor agreed to everything.””
“Then why hide the documents?”” I asked.
“I didn't hide them.””
“You locked the room.””
“It was full of personal belongings.””
“And you told Dad you'd cleared it.””
She didn't answer.
I reached into the metal box again.
There were bank statements, correspondence, and printed royalty reports.
Mrs. Collins read the dates.
The earliest payment record was twenty years old.
The latest was only three months before my mother's death.
I felt sick.
“Did Mom receive any of this money?””
My father examined the account details.
“I don't know.””
Mrs. Collins found another folder.
“There's a statement here showing payments sent to a business account.””
“What business?””
“Carter Design Holdings.””
My father frowned.
“I've never heard of that company.””
Vanessa suddenly grabbed the folder.
“That's private financial information!””
Daniel's earlier warning came back to me.
These documents were not just family memories.
They were evidence.
My father pulled the folder away.
“Whose company is it?””
Vanessa looked toward the door.
“Richard, please.””
“Whose company?””
She finally answered.
“Mine.””
My father stared at her.
“You used Eleanor's designs to build a business?””
“I managed the business. I did the work.””
“But she created the dresses!””
Vanessa's voice rose.
“She was talented, but she couldn't sell anything! I was the one who turned those designs into a commercial collection!””
I felt the silver moon charm in my pocket.
“So you think stealing someone's work is acceptable if you sell it successfully?””
Vanessa pointed at me.
“You have no idea what it takes to survive in this world.””
I answered quietly.
“I know what it takes to create something with your own hands. That's enough.””
She turned away.
Then Mrs. Collins found a second envelope.
This one was addressed to my father.
Richard.
He looked confused.
“Why would Eleanor leave me something?””
“Open it,” I said.
He carefully removed the letter.
His voice changed as he read.
Richard,
If Vanessa has told you that she has been managing my collection with my permission, please ask her to show you the original royalty statements.
I have repeatedly requested payment for my work. She has refused.
I am no longer willing to fight with her while raising Maya. But I need you to understand that I am not imagining this.
I have kept every document.
If anything happens to me, please make sure Maya receives what belongs to her.
My father stopped reading.
I heard him take a shaky breath.
“Eleanor wrote this before she died.””
“Yes,” I whispered.
He turned toward Vanessa.
“She asked me to look into this?””
Vanessa remained silent.
“You told me she was becoming paranoid.””
Vanessa snapped.
“She was sick!””
My father looked devastated.
“You told me she imagined everything.””
“She was dying, Richard. She wasn't thinking clearly!””
The words were cruel.
And for a moment, I wanted to reach across the room and slap her.
Instead, I placed my mother's letter on the desk.
“She knew you were taking her work. She knew you were lying. And she still tried to protect this family.””
Vanessa scoffed.
“Don't make her a saint.””
“I don't need to. I have her work.””
My father began sorting through the documents.
Then he found a photograph.
It showed my mother standing beside a young woman at a fashion exhibition.
The woman was Vanessa.
They were both smiling.
On the table in front of them were several gowns.
I recognized one of the designs from the archive.
The Moonlight Collection.
On the back of the photograph, my mother had written:
The beginning of everything. I wish I had known.
I touched the photograph's edge.
“Mom and Vanessa were friends.””
My father nodded.
“Very close friends, apparently.””
Then he looked at the date.
“Richard?”” I asked.
He didn't respond.
“What is it?””
He read the date again.
“Three months before your mother and I got married.””
Vanessa suddenly spoke.
“Put the photograph away.””
My father looked at her.
“Why?””
“Because it doesn't mean anything.””
He turned it over.
There was another handwritten note beneath the first.
She promised she would never take another design from me.
My father slowly raised his head.
“You were still working together when I met Eleanor.””
Vanessa didn't answer.
“And you continued taking her money after she married me?””
Her voice became cold.
“I earned that money.””
My father shook his head.
“I don't know who you are.””
Vanessa laughed.
“You've never known who I am.””
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then my phone vibrated.
An email had arrived from Olivia.
The subject line read:
*URGENT: COMPETITION JUDGING RESULTS AND OWNERSHIP REVIEW.*
I opened it with my screen reader.
The first paragraph confirmed that my design had received the highest technical score.
The second paragraph stated that the judges had postponed the final award pending verification of the ownership dispute.
But the third paragraph was different.
During the review of historical records, the committee discovered that another individual has submitted a claim relating to the Moonlight Collection.
I stopped breathing.
“Who?”” Mrs. Collins asked.
I continued listening.
The claimant is a former business partner of Eleanor Carter.
I looked at the old photograph.
Then I heard the final sentence.
She has requested an emergency meeting with Maya Carter and provided evidence that may change the ownership of the entire collection.
My father whispered, “Who is she?””
I read the name again.
*Margaret Ellis.*
I recognized it.
My mother had mentioned Margaret once, years ago.
She had described her as the only person who stood beside her when the fashion world turned against her.
I called Olivia immediately.
“Who is Margaret Ellis?””
“She was Eleanor's business partner.””
“Where is she now?””
“She's at the competition venue.””
I looked toward the door.
“Why didn't she come forward twenty years ago?””
Olivia paused.
“That's exactly what she wants to explain.””
Then she added something that made my stomach tighten.
“She also claims that your mother didn't lose the Moonlight Collection because of Vanessa alone.””
I gripped the phone.
“What does that mean?””
May you like
Olivia lowered her voice.
“According to Margaret, someone inside your mother's family helped Vanessa steal it.””
