Chapter 4: The Signature That Betrayed My Mother
For several seconds, nobody moved.
The photograph on Mr. Harrison's phone showed the inside of Vanessa's bedroom safe. Jewelry, bank documents, and a sealed envelope lay scattered across a velvet shelf.
My mother's handwriting was unmistakable.
*If Richard has signed away my daughter's inheritance, this letter must be opened immediately.*
I looked at my father.
He had gone so pale that the freckles across his nose stood out.
“Dad,” I whispered.
“What did you sign?””
Richard pulled out a chair.
“I can explain.””
Vanessa immediately stepped forward.
“Richard, don't.””
He looked at her.
“Not now.””
“Think about what you're doing.””
“I've been thinking about it for seven years.””
Seven years.
That was how long Vanessa had been married to my father.
Seven years of watching her replace my mother's photographs with her own. Seven years of hearing her call my sewing room a waste of space. Seven years of watching Brielle receive everything while I was told to be grateful for whatever remained.
And apparently, seven years of secrets.
Mr. Harrison placed his phone on the table.
“Who took this photograph?””
“The foundation's legal representative,” he answered himself.
“Our estate investigator received information that documents connected to Eleanor's trust might still be at this address.””
Vanessa's face tightened.
“You sent someone into my house?””
“No one entered without authorization. The photograph was provided by a person who has access to the property.””
I stared at the screen.
“Can we get that letter?””
Mr. Harrison nodded.
“If it's still there, yes. But we need to handle this properly.””
Vanessa laughed sharply.
“You're all acting as though I've committed some terrible crime. Richard signed the documents. Ask him.””
I turned toward my father.
“Did you?””
Richard closed his eyes.
“Yes.””
The single word seemed to drain the air from the room.
“What did you sign?””
He rubbed his forehead.
“Your mother had established a trust containing her original designs, copyrights, and several valuable pieces. After she died, I was responsible for managing your inheritance.””
“And?””
“Vanessa told me the collection was costing money to maintain. She said we could transfer the commercial rights to a company and use the proceeds for your education.””
I stared at him.
“My education?””
“Yes.””
“Did I ever receive that money?””
He looked down.
No answer.
Vanessa crossed her arms.
“Don't make this sound worse than it was. The money went toward household expenses.””
I slowly turned toward her.
“Household expenses?””
She nodded.
“Your father was supporting two children. There were bills, school fees, and responsibilities.””
“Brielle's school fees?””
“Both of yours.””
“My mother left me money for my future.””
“And your father used it to support the family.””
I looked at Richard.
“Is that true?””
He didn't answer.
Mr. Harrison opened the folder.
“Richard, the document I have here is not a simple transfer of commercial rights. It appears to assign the entire collection to a private company.””
“What company?”” I asked.
Mr. Harrison read the name.
“Bennett Creative Holdings.””
Vanessa looked away.
I recognized the name.
It was printed on the labels of several expensive garments Brielle had worn to family events.
“Who owns it?””
Mr. Harrison checked the next page.
“Vanessa Bennett.””
Brielle suddenly stood.
“Mom, you said that company belonged to Dad.””
Vanessa glared at her.
“Sit down.””
“But you told me all the designs were yours!””
“Brielle!””
My stepsister's voice cracked.
“I didn't know they belonged to Maya.””
I looked at her.
“You wore my wings tonight.””
She lowered her eyes.
“I know.””
“You knew they were mine.””
Brielle said nothing.
Mr. Harrison closed the folder.
“I'll have our legal team review the transfer. Until then, no one should sell, display, or submit any of Eleanor's work.””
Vanessa scoffed.
“You can't tell me what to do with property that was legally transferred.””
“That's precisely what the investigation will determine.””
She turned to my father.
“Richard, say something!””
He stared at the table.
Then, quietly, he said, “I want to see the original document.””
Vanessa's expression changed.
“You don't need to.””
“I signed it. I have a right to see it.””
“You're making a mistake.””
“No. I made one seven years ago.””
The conference room door opened.
A young woman in a navy suit entered carrying a leather document case.
Mr. Harrison recognized her.
“Ms. Collins. You're early.””
She nodded.
“I was asked to bring the preliminary trust records.””
She placed several papers on the table.
Then she looked at me.
“Are you Maya Bennett?””
“Yes.””
“I'm Olivia Collins. I represent the foundation's legal interests concerning the Eleanor Bennett Collection.””
She opened the case.
“The original trust contains a provision that may be very important.””
“What provision?””
Olivia removed a page and placed it in front of me.
“If the appointed guardian attempts to transfer the collection without the beneficiary's informed consent, the guardian's authority automatically becomes subject to independent review.””
I read the paragraph twice.
“I'm the beneficiary?””
“Yes.””
“And because I was a minor, I couldn't approve the transfer?””
“Correct.””
Vanessa shook her head.
“That's ridiculous. Richard was her legal guardian.””
Olivia remained calm.
“Being a legal guardian does not necessarily give someone unlimited authority over property held in trust.””
My father looked up.
“Does that mean the transfer is invalid?””
“It means there are serious questions about its validity.””
Vanessa grabbed her handbag.
“I'm leaving.””
Olivia turned another page.
“One more thing, Mrs. Bennett.””
Vanessa stopped.
“The foundation has received evidence that several original pieces were sold through your company last year.””
My stepmother's face hardened.
“Those were Brielle's designs.””
“Then you should have no difficulty providing the original sketches and production records.””
Vanessa said nothing.
I looked at Brielle.
She was staring at the floor, twisting the diamond bracelet around her wrist.
Then Olivia placed a final document in front of me.
It was a copy of my mother's original trust.
At the bottom was a clause written in bold.
*The collection shall remain the exclusive property of Maya Eleanor Bennett until her eighteenth birthday, at which time she shall assume full control.*
I felt my breath catch.
Two years.
I had spent my entire childhood believing I owned nothing in the house where I lived.
But my mother had made sure I would have something of my own.
Olivia tapped the page.
“There's also a named protector of the trust.””
“Who?””
She turned the document toward me.
I read the name.
Then I looked up in disbelief.
“Why would my mother choose him?””
Olivia's expression became serious.
“Because he was the only person she believed would never betray her.””
And the name on the page was not my father's.
It was my mother's older brother.
May you like
Uncle Daniel.
The man Vanessa had told me was dead.
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