Chapter 8: The Night They Tried to Erase My Mother
The Hawthorne estate looked like something from an old European postcard.
White stone walls.
Tall windows.
A circular driveway lined with perfectly trimmed hedges.
And hundreds of white roses surrounding the entrance.
By seven o'clock, luxury cars were arriving one after another.
Men in tailored suits stepped onto the red carpet. Women wore expensive gowns and diamond jewelry.
A string quartet played beneath a crystal chandelier visible through the enormous front windows.
I stood outside in a simple navy dress.
I had chosen it deliberately.
No expensive jewelry.
No designer handbag.
Just my mother's small silver thimble on a chain around my neck.
Rebecca approached me.
"Are you ready?""
I looked at the entrance.
"No.""
She smiled.
"Good. Neither am I.""
Laura had arranged for a process server and a legal observer to accompany us. Martin was also nearby, waiting for an opportunity to examine the archive.
Our plan was simple.
We would not confront Patricia without evidence.
We would document the display, photograph the ledger, and establish who had custody of the original documents.
Then we would challenge the fraudulent transfer.
I entered the estate.
The ballroom was enormous.
Gold curtains framed the windows. White roses covered the tables. A massive portrait of Margaret Hawthorne hung above the staircase.
And beneath it stood Vanessa.
She was wearing my wedding gown.
The blue flowers shimmered under the lights.
For one second, I forgot everyone around me.
I remembered every night I had spent sewing those flowers.
Every tiny pearl.
Every adjustment.
Every time I had pricked my finger and continued working because Vanessa wanted the dress finished before the wedding.
Now she was wearing it like a trophy.
She noticed me.
Her smile vanished.
Then she recovered and approached.
"Maya. I didn't think you'd actually come.""
"Why wouldn't I?""
She glanced at my dress.
"I expected something more dramatic.""
"I'm not here to impress you.""
Vanessa laughed.
"You're here because you think that little wooden box makes you important.""
My stomach tightened.
She knew about the box.
"Where did you hear about it?""
"Mom knows everything.""
She leaned closer.
"Did you bring it?""
"No.""
Her expression hardened.
"Then perhaps you should leave.""
I looked at the gown.
"Does it fit?""
She blinked.
"What?""
"The dress. Does it fit comfortably?""
Vanessa glanced down.
"Of course.""
"That's strange. I remember making the waist half an inch smaller than your final measurements.""
Her smile faltered.
I looked at the back of the dress.
The hidden patch was positioned exactly where I had seen it in her photograph.
"Did you alter the lining?""
Vanessa's eyes narrowed.
"Don't touch my dress.""
I smiled.
"Then I suppose you won't mind if everyone knows who made it.""
Before she could answer, Patricia appeared.
"Vanessa, darling. The guests are waiting.""
Her eyes landed on me.
For a moment, her expression was almost murderous.
Then she smiled.
"Miss Bennett. How unfortunate that you're here.""
"Good evening, Patricia.""
She stepped closer.
"You were not invited.""
"Actually, Rebecca arranged my invitation.""
Patricia looked toward the reporter.
"Of course she did.""
She turned to Vanessa.
"Come. We have an announcement.""
They walked toward the stage.
A few minutes later, the music stopped.
Patricia took the microphone.
"Good evening, everyone. Thank you for joining us for a very special celebration.""
The room quieted.
"Tonight, we honor the extraordinary legacy of the Hawthorne family and the women who preserved its traditions.""
She gestured toward the portrait.
"My late mother-in-law, Margaret, believed that beauty should survive generations.""
Applause followed.
Patricia continued.
"Tonight, we're proud to introduce the Hawthorne Legacy Collection, a new luxury bridal house that will bring our historic designs to women around the world.""
A screen behind her displayed photographs of wedding gowns.
I recognized every one.
They were my mother's designs.
Some had been copied almost exactly.
Others had been modified.
But all carried the same distinctive blue floral embroidery.
Patricia gestured toward Vanessa.
"And now, the future of this collection. My daughter, Vanessa Hawthorne.""
The audience applauded.
Vanessa walked onto the stage.
She held the microphone with both hands.
"Thank you. This collection means everything to me. It represents the women who came before us and the traditions they left behind.""
I clenched my fists.
She was talking about my mother without even knowing her name.
Or perhaps she knew exactly what she was doing.
Vanessa continued.
"Every design has been carefully preserved by our family. Tonight, I am honored to announce that I will be the sole creative director and legal successor of the collection.""
More applause.
Then Patricia brought out a document.
"To make this transition official, we have secured the necessary ownership releases from all previous contributors.""
She lifted the document.
I recognized the forged agreement.
My signature was visible at the bottom.
Laura leaned toward me.
"Stay calm.""
Patricia continued.
"We believe in transparency. Every legal matter has been resolved.""
I couldn't remain silent.
"That's a lie.""
The room went quiet.
Patricia slowly lowered the microphone.
"Excuse me?""
I stepped forward.
"You don't have the right to claim those designs.""
A murmur spread through the ballroom.
Patricia smiled tightly.
"Miss Bennett, this is a private family event.""
"Then why are you displaying my mother's work to potential investors?""
Vanessa looked at me.
"Security.""
I continued before anyone could move.
"My name is Maya Bennett. My mother was Eleanor Bennett, the original designer of the Hawthorne bridal collection.""
The room erupted in whispers.
Patricia raised the microphone.
"This woman has been harassing our family for days. She was paid to produce a gown and is now attempting to extort us.""
Rebecca immediately lifted her camera.
Laura stepped forward.
"Mrs. Hawthorne, we have evidence that the document you just displayed contains a forged signature.""
Patricia's face tightened.
"That's absurd.""
"Then you'll have no objection to producing the original for independent examination.""
Patricia looked toward the security guards.
"Remove them.""
But before they could approach, an elderly woman stood from the front row.
Evelyn Hawthorne.
"Don't you dare.""
The room went silent.
Evelyn slowly approached the stage.
"I am the surviving daughter of Margaret Hawthorne. And I can confirm that Eleanor Bennett created these designs.""
Patricia stared at her.
"Aunt Evelyn, sit down.""
"No.""
Evelyn took the microphone.
"My mother never claimed to have designed this collection. She commissioned it from Eleanor, and she signed a partnership agreement acknowledging that ownership.""
Patricia's voice rose.
"You're confused.""
Evelyn looked directly at her.
"No, Patricia. I have been silent for far too long.""
Then she turned toward the audience.
"And there is one more thing you should know. Richard Hawthorne spent the final months of his life trying to correct this injustice.""
The room became restless.
Patricia grabbed Evelyn's arm.
"Enough!""
Evelyn pulled away.
"Let go of me.""
A security guard stepped between them.
Then the lights above the stage flickered.
A staff member rushed toward Patricia and whispered something in her ear.
Her face went completely white.
She looked toward the glass display case.
The blue leather ledger was gone.
"Who took it?"" she shouted.
Nobody answered.
She turned toward the guards.
"Lock the doors!""
The guests began talking over one another.
I looked at Laura.
"Where is Martin?""
She scanned the room.
Then her phone vibrated.
She read the message and looked at me.
"He's in the east library.""
"Did he find the ledger?""
Laura hesitated.
"Yes.""
I felt a surge of relief.
Then she showed me the message.
The ledger contains a list of every person who received payments connected to the stolen collection. Patricia isn't the only name.
I looked toward Evelyn.
She was standing alone beside the stage.
And Patricia was staring at her with pure hatred.
Suddenly, I understood why the ledger had disappeared.
Someone wasn't trying to hide the evidence.
Someone was trying to protect the people named inside it.
Then the ballroom doors slammed shut.
A man's voice came over the estate's security system.
"Nobody leaves until the original ledger is recovered.""
I turned toward the sound.
And recognized the voice.
It belonged to Daniel Reeves.
The same attorney who had called me on behalf of Patricia.
He was standing on the staircase.
May you like
Holding a second blue ledger.
And smiling.
