Chapter 9: The Footage Nobody Was Supposed to See
The laboratory footage was grainy, but the time stamp was clear.
11:42 p.m.
Eight years earlier.
My father entered my mother's office carrying a cardboard box.
Three minutes later, Vanessa appeared.
Brielle stood beside me as we watched the recording on Angela's computer.
Nobody spoke.
On the screen, my father placed the box on the desk.
Vanessa opened it.
Inside were several small bottles.
She removed one and held it toward the light.
My father shook his head.
Then he pointed toward the office door.
The footage had no sound.
But I could see his mouth moving.
Vanessa responded by touching his shoulder.
Then she kissed his cheek.
I felt something twist inside my chest.
"What are they doing?"" I whispered.
Julian stood behind me.
"Keep watching.""
Vanessa took a bottle and walked toward the storage cabinet.
My father remained at the desk.
He opened a drawer.
Then he removed a document.
I leaned closer.
He signed something.
Vanessa returned.
She placed a second document in front of him.
He signed that, too.
Then both of them left.
The time stamp changed.
11:58 p.m.
The office remained empty.
I stared at the screen.
"That's the night Mom was exposed?""
Angela checked the date.
"Yes.""
Brielle folded her arms tightly.
"Mom told me the footage showed a routine inventory check.""
I turned toward her.
"Why didn't you tell me this before?""
She looked down.
"Because I knew you'd blame me.""
"You signed the approval form.""
"I know!""
Her voice echoed through the room.
She pressed both hands against her face.
"I was nineteen, Maya. Mom told me I was helping save the company. She said Claire was becoming paranoid and that the formula was safe.""
I looked at her.
"You could have asked questions.""
"I did!""
She lowered her hands.
"Mom told me that if I refused to cooperate, she'd send me away. She said she'd tell Dad I had stolen company files.""
I felt no sympathy.
But I understood something important.
Vanessa hadn't simply controlled me.
She had controlled everyone differently.
She used guilt on my father.
Money and fear on Brielle.
And silence on me.
"Where is the original footage?"" I asked.
Brielle shook her head.
"Mom said she destroyed it.""
"Then how did you get this?""
"I copied it before she deleted the server.""
Julian leaned toward the screen.
"Can you access the full recording?""
Brielle nodded.
"There's another file. I haven't watched it.""
Angela inserted the drive into the computer.
A second video appeared.
The file name was:
*CAMERA_04_FULL.*
Julian clicked it.
The footage began at 10:15 p.m.
The office was empty.
Then my mother entered.
She carried a folder and placed it on her desk.
She looked around the room before opening a drawer.
She removed several papers.
Then she picked up the telephone.
The footage had no sound, but her expression changed as she listened.
She looked frightened.
A few minutes later, my father entered.
My mother stood.
They argued.
She pointed at the documents.
He shook his head.
Then he reached for her hand.
She pulled away.
My throat tightened.
The footage continued.
Vanessa arrived.
She placed a small bottle on the desk.
My mother immediately stepped backward.
She pointed toward the door.
Vanessa didn't move.
My father stood between them.
Then something happened that made me grab the edge of the table.
My mother slapped my father.
He stumbled backward.
Vanessa reached into her handbag and removed a second bottle.
She placed it beside the first.
My mother turned toward the door.
The video ended.
I stared at the black screen.
"Where's the rest?""
Brielle shook her head.
"That's all I have.""
Julian looked at the time stamp.
"Something is missing.""
"What?""
"The recording jumps from 10:47 to 11:42. Almost an hour is missing.""
Angela checked the file properties.
"Someone edited this.""
Brielle's face went pale.
"I didn't.""
Julian nodded.
"I believe you.""
I looked at him.
"How can you be sure?""
"Because the original server recorded continuously. This file has been reconstructed from fragments.""
Angela opened the technical information.
"Whoever edited it knew the system.""
She paused.
"Only three people had administrative access.""
I looked at the list.
Angela Price.
Richard Carter.
Vanessa Carter.
My father.
Again.
We took copies of the footage and documents.
Brielle insisted on coming with us.
I didn't want her near me.
But I needed her testimony.
And I needed to understand why she had suddenly decided to help.
In the elevator, she finally spoke.
"Mom knows I copied the footage.""
I looked at her.
"How?""
"She found the original drive in my bedroom last year.""
"Then why didn't she destroy this copy?""
Brielle swallowed.
"Because I told her I had another one.""
I stared at her.
"Did you?""
She looked at me.
"No.""
The elevator doors opened.
I stepped out.
"You lied to her?""
"Yes.""
"Why?""
Brielle's voice became very small.
"Because I was scared she'd do something to me.""
I turned away.
For years, I had thought Brielle enjoyed being cruel.
Now I was beginning to understand that Vanessa had created a household where everyone survived by obeying her.
But that didn't excuse what Brielle had done to me.
It didn't give her back the years she had stolen.
And it certainly didn't bring my mother back.
At five that afternoon, I received a call from Eleanor Hartwell.
"Maya, I need you to come to the competition office immediately.""
"Why?""
"We've received a formal complaint from Vanessa Carter.""
My stomach tightened.
"What kind of complaint?""
"She is alleging that your winning design contains stolen intellectual property belonging to Brielle.""
I stopped walking.
"That's impossible.""
"She has submitted a design registration certificate dated two months before your competition.""
I looked at Brielle.
Her face changed.
"That's the dress I stole," she whispered.
I covered the phone.
"What?""
Brielle swallowed.
"Mom registered it under my name. She told me it was insurance in case you ever tried to claim the design.""
I looked at Eleanor.
"Can you send me the certificate?""
"I already have. And Maya, there's something else. The document contains an earlier registration number linked to Silverwing.""
I opened the email.
The certificate showed my black satin gown with the silver wings.
But the date was older than my original sketch.
Much older.
It appeared to have been registered eight years earlier.
The original designer's name was hidden beneath a black redaction.
I enlarged the document.
At the bottom was a reference number.
SW-008.
I looked at Brielle.
"Have you seen this before?""
She shook her head.
Then she noticed the registration number.
Her face turned white.
"That's impossible.""
"What?""
She pointed to the certificate.
"Mom told me that design came from a private archive.""
"Whose archive?""
Brielle looked at me.
"Claire's.""
My mother's designs.
I felt my stomach drop.
If the gown had been registered eight years earlier, before I even drew my first sketch, then something was wrong.
I searched the Silverwing database using the registration number.
A record appeared.
*Original Design: Silverwing Collection 08.*
*Designer: Claire Carter.*
*Status: Restricted.*
I stared at the screen.
My mother had designed the dress.
But the certificate had been filed under Brielle's name.
Then another document appeared.
A transfer record.
The design had been legally assigned to a company called Carter Heritage Holdings.
The date was eight years earlier.
And the signature authorizing the transfer belonged to my mother.
I leaned back.
"She didn't sign this.""
Julian examined the page.
"You're right.""
Brielle looked at the document.
"Mom said Claire gave us everything.""
I turned toward her.
"Then why did she need to forge the signature?""
Nobody answered.
My phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
*Stop looking at old designs. You have no idea what your mother really created.*
A second message arrived.
It contained a photograph.
My mother stood in front of a large display case, holding a silver-winged dress.
Beside her was a little girl.
Me.
I recognized the dress.
It was the same design I had transformed during the competition.
But the photograph was dated eight years earlier.
On the back of the display case was a handwritten label:
*PROJECT SILVERWING — THE FINAL COLLECTION.*
I stared at the little girl in the photograph.
Then I noticed something else.
Behind my mother stood Vanessa.
And she was holding a document.
I zoomed in.
The paper contained a signature.
Not my mother's.
Not my father's.
A third signature.
I recognized the name from my mother's notebook.
*Julian Cross.*
I looked up at him.
"Why did you sign this?""
Julian didn't answer.
He simply stared at the photograph.
For the first time since I'd met him, he looked as though he wanted to disappear.
"Julian?""
He finally spoke.
"Because your mother asked me to.""
"Asked you to do what?""
He closed his eyes.
"To sign away my ownership of Silverwing.""
I stared at him.
"Why?""
He opened his briefcase and removed a sealed envelope.
"Because eight years ago, Maya, your mother discovered that Silverwing wasn't just being robbed.""
He placed the envelope in front of me.
"It was being used to hide the identity of someone who had been stealing designs from independent designers for decades.""
I looked at the envelope.
"Who?""
Julian's voice dropped.
"Your mother found the original designer.""
He paused.
"And that person was someone inside your family.""
Brielle stepped backward.
I looked at her.
Then at Julian.
Before either could explain, my phone rang.
The caller ID showed my father's name.
I answered.
His voice was barely audible.
"Maya, listen carefully. Vanessa knows you've seen the footage.""
"Dad, what happened eight years ago?""
He began crying.
"Your mother discovered that Brielle wasn't the only person using stolen designs.""
I gripped the phone.
"Who else?""
My father whispered:
"Your mother discovered that I had been signing them over for years.""
Then I heard a loud crash on his end of the line.
May you like
A woman's voice screamed.
And the call disconnected.
