The Dress They Tried to Destroy

Grace.

The name appeared nowhere in the blue ledger, the estate documents, or the emails Brielle had given us.

But when she described the girl who had visited our house, I recognized something in her voice.

She wasn't guessing.

She was remembering.

"How old was she?"" I asked.

"Maybe eight or nine. I was little, too.""

"Did she look like Richard Vale?""

"I don't know. I barely remember her face. She had dark hair and a small scar near her eyebrow.""

Brielle paused.

"She used to sit in the sewing room with Mom. They would talk for hours, and Mom would give her fabric scraps to take home.""

My stomach tightened.

"Did she ever say why?""

"No. But one day, I heard Mom tell her that she was sorry she hadn't found her sooner.""

I looked at the photograph of the ivory coat.

For the daughter I never met.

Could Grace have been Richard's other daughter?

The recording had referred to Brielle as his other daughter, implying there was at least one more child besides me.

But my mother had written the inscription before her death.

If she had created the coat for Grace, she must have known about her.

And if Vanessa had known about Grace, she might have used that knowledge to control Richard as well.

I called Eleanor.

She arrived at my father's hospital room carrying a folder of old photographs and a notebook filled with names.

When I showed her the image of the ivory coat, she covered her mouth.

"Claire made this for Grace.""

"You know her?""

"I met her once. She was a child when Claire introduced us. Claire said Grace was the daughter of someone who had helped her during a difficult period.""

"Was Richard her father?""

Eleanor sat down.

"I don't know. Claire never told me the full story. But she was determined to find Grace and make sure she received something that belonged to her.""

I opened the folder.

Inside were photographs of my mother at fashion exhibitions, student workshops, and small design studios. In several images, she stood beside Richard Vale.

In one, a young girl sat on a stool near a sewing machine.

Her face was partially obscured by a curtain of dark hair, but the small scar near her eyebrow was visible.

I showed the picture to Brielle.

She stared at it.

"That's her.""

I felt a chill move through me.

"You're sure?""

"Yes. That's Grace.""

Eleanor examined the photograph.

"The date on the back is important. This was taken six months before Claire died.""

I turned the photograph over.

My mother had written a note.

Grace's first fitting. She has her father's eyes.

Below it was a phone number.

Daniel arrived shortly afterward and helped us verify the number through public records. It belonged to a small tailoring shop on the outskirts of the city.

The shop was still operating.

Its owner, a woman named Margaret Collins, agreed to meet us the next morning.

Before we left the hospital, Dad asked me to sit beside him.

"Emily, I need to tell you something about Grace.""

I turned toward him.

"You know her?""

"Not personally. But I know why your mother was looking for her.""

He reached into the bedside drawer and removed a folded document.

It was a letter from Richard Vale, dated nearly twenty years earlier.

The letter discussed a child born outside his marriage and instructed the recipient to keep the child's identity confidential.

The recipient's name had been blacked out.

But the signature at the bottom was unmistakable.

Richard Vale.

Dad looked at me.

"Your mother discovered this letter shortly before she died. She believed Richard had abandoned another child, just as he had tried to abandon you.""

"Why didn't she tell me?""

"She was trying to find Grace first. She wanted to make sure the girl was safe before revealing anything.""

I read the letter again.

It contained a sentence that made my hands tremble.

If the child is ever located, ensure that no financial claim can be made against my estate.

Richard hadn't merely hidden Grace.

He had tried to erase her rights before she could even understand what they were.

I looked at Dad.

"Did Vanessa know?""

He nodded.

"She helped Richard prepare the documents.""

I stood.

"Then we need to find Grace.""

The tailoring shop stood between a pharmacy and a small grocery store. Its windows displayed handmade coats, embroidered jackets, and wedding dresses.

A bell rang when we entered.

An older woman emerged from the back room, wiping her hands on a measuring cloth.

"Can I help you?""

I introduced myself and showed her the photograph.

Her face changed.

"Where did you get that?""

"My mother was Claire Miller.""

Margaret stared at me.

Then she locked the front door.

"Come into the back room.""

The room smelled of steam and pressed wool. Rolls of fabric stood along the walls, and a half-finished coat rested on a mannequin.

Margaret took the photograph and sat down.

"Claire came here looking for Grace several times. She was desperate to make sure the girl had somewhere safe to go.""

"Did she find her?""

"Yes.""

"When?""

"About six months before Claire died. Grace was living with a woman who had taken her in after her mother passed away.""

I swallowed.

"Who was her mother?""

Margaret looked at Eleanor.

Then back at me.

"Her name was Rebecca Vale.""

Richard's wife.

The woman who had supposedly died in a car accident before he married Vanessa.

I felt the room tilt.

"You're saying Grace was Richard's daughter with his first wife?""

Margaret nodded.

"That's what Claire believed. Rebecca had left behind letters proving that Richard knew about the child. He had refused to acknowledge her because he feared the scandal would damage his business.""

"Where is Grace now?""

Margaret hesitated.

"She left town years ago. Claire had arranged for her to receive a scholarship to study design, but after Claire died, the funding disappeared. Grace was forced to abandon her studies.""

My heart ached.

Another young woman had lost her future because Richard Vale wanted to control his reputation.

"Do you know where she went?""

Margaret opened a drawer and removed a small notebook.

"Claire gave me this before she died. She told me to keep it safe until Grace came back.""

Inside the notebook was a list of addresses and dates.

The final entry contained a city, a street name, and a note written in my mother's handwriting.

If she ever returns, tell her the butterfly collection belongs to both of you.

I stared at the words.

"Both of us?""

Eleanor leaned closer.

"Claire must have intended the second collection for you and Grace.""

I thought of the ivory coat and the inscription.

For the daughter I never met.

My mother had known Grace existed. She had tried to protect her, just as she had tried to protect me.

But someone had taken the collection before either of us could receive it.

Margaret gave us the address.

It led to a small apartment building in another state.

We called the number listed beside it.

A woman answered after several rings.

"Hello?""

I swallowed.

"Is this Grace Vale?""

Silence.

Then the woman asked, "Who wants to know?""

"My name is Emily Miller. My mother was Claire Miller.""

The silence became heavier.

Finally, the woman whispered, "I wondered when someone would come looking.""

My eyes filled with tears.

"Did you know my mother?""

"I knew what she tried to do for me.""

"Then you know about the designs?""

"Yes.""

"Do you know where the original collection is?""

Grace exhaled slowly.

"I did. But it was stolen from me years ago.""

I gripped the phone.

"Who took it?""

"Richard Vale.""

She paused.

Then she said something that made my heart stop.

"But he didn't steal it because he wanted the designs.""

"Why, then?""

"Because hidden inside the ivory coat was a letter from his first wife. It proved that Richard had falsified the circumstances of Rebecca's death.""

I couldn't breathe.

Grace continued.

"My mother didn't die in a car accident, Emily. She was trying to expose his fraud when she disappeared.""

I looked at Eleanor.

Her face had gone white.

Grace's voice dropped to a whisper.

"And I have proof that she's still alive.""

For a moment, the room seemed to vanish around me.

Richard Vale had spent twenty years stealing designs, manipulating scholarships, and controlling the people who threatened his empire.

But if Rebecca Vale was still alive, then the story of his rise to power was built on a lie far more dangerous than intellectual property theft.

I asked Grace where she was.

She gave me an address and agreed to meet us in person.

Then, before ending the call, she said one final thing.

"Emily, don't trust the documents Vanessa gives you. She knows your mother's collection is only part of the truth.""

"What else is there?""

Grace was quiet for several seconds.

Then she answered.

"The night your mother died, she wasn't alone. Someone visited her at the hospital, and that person took the original letter proving Rebecca was alive.""

I felt cold all over.

"Who?""

Grace whispered the name.

"Your father.""

I lowered the phone.

Across the room, Eleanor stared at me.

Neither of us spoke.