Chapter 6: The Photograph in the Locked Drawer
I read my father's messages twice.
The first sounded urgent.
The second sounded frightened.
I showed them to Mrs. Bell.
She took a slow breath.
"Your father knows something he hasn't told you.""
"I think he's known for years.""
"Then be careful about what you accept from him.""
Maya, who had come to the shop after school, folded her arms.
"You're not going alone.""
"I have to find out what he found.""
"Then I'll drive you.""
Mrs. Bell shook her head.
"Vanessa specifically asked that I not come. If I arrive with you, she'll use it as an excuse to turn this into another argument about outside interference.""
Maya frowned.
"She's already using Nia's work without permission. I don't think she's worried about appearances.""
"She is worried about control," Mrs. Bell replied.
"And people who need control often become most dangerous when they feel they're losing it.""
I looked at the midnight-blue gown hanging beside the worktable.
It wasn't finished. The hem still needed adjusting, and I hadn't attached the final row of gold stars.
But I couldn't afford to lose another day.
"Can I leave it here?""
"Of course.""
Mrs. Bell helped me cover the gown with a protective garment bag.
"Whatever happens tonight, come back tomorrow morning. We'll finish this together.""
I nodded.
Maya drove me home just after six.
The house looked ordinary from the street. Warm light glowed through the downstairs windows, and the neighbor's sprinkler clicked rhythmically across the lawn.
But when I entered, I found my father waiting in the living room with a thick folder on his lap.
Vanessa stood beside the fireplace.
Brianna sat on the sofa, scrolling through her phone.
The atmosphere felt like a courtroom before a verdict.
"Sit down, Nia," Vanessa said.
"I'd rather stand.""
My father rose.
"Please. This won't take long.""
I remained near the doorway.
"What did you find?""
He opened the folder.
Inside were old photographs, financial documents, and several pages of handwritten notes.
At the top of the first page was my mother's name.
ELENA CARTER.
Vanessa lifted a photograph.
"Do you recognize this woman?""
It showed my mother standing outside a brick building with a large glass entrance. She wore a navy dress and carried a portfolio beneath one arm.
"Of course.""
"Do you know where she was?""
"No.""
"Mitchell House's original headquarters," Vanessa said.
"Your mother worked with us before she became ill.""
I stared at her.
"Mrs. Bell said Mom ran Carter Atelier.""
"She did. She also collaborated with established fashion businesses.""
"Was Mitchell House one of them?""
Vanessa smiled.
"Now you're beginning to understand.""
My father cleared his throat.
"Your mother entered into several agreements before she died. Some designs were licensed to other companies. Others were part of the Carter Atelier collection.""
"Then why did you tell me she left nothing?""
He looked down.
"I was trying to protect you.""
"From what?""
Neither adult answered.
Brianna stopped scrolling.
"Can we get to the point? I have fittings tomorrow.""
Vanessa placed a document on the coffee table.
"This is the agreement that transferred the Starfall collection to Mitchell House.""
I stepped closer.
The paper was older than the document Brianna had shown me. Its edges were worn, and the text appeared to have been typed on an old machine.
At the bottom was my mother's signature.
Elena Carter.
Beside it was another signature.
Daniel Carter.
And beneath both names was a witness signature.
Vanessa Mitchell.
My skin prickled.
"Why was this never mentioned before?""
"Because the matter was settled privately," Vanessa said.
"Your father agreed to the transfer, and Mitchell House assumed responsibility for certain financial obligations.""
"Which obligations?""
"Business debts.""
"How much?""
She lifted her chin.
"That isn't relevant.""
"It is if you're claiming Mom had to sell everything.""
My father shifted uncomfortably.
"Nia, your mother was sick. She wasn't able to manage the business, and I was trying to keep things afloat.""
"Did you read the agreement before you signed it?""
"Yes.""
"Did Mom sign it?""
His eyes moved to Vanessa.
She answered for him.
"Of course she did.""
I looked at the date.
It was three weeks before my mother's death.
Unlike Brianna's document, this one might have been legitimate.
But something about it bothered me.
The agreement listed several garment designs by name. The teal gown I had made for the competition wasn't among them. Neither was the midnight-blue gown I'd been sketching.
Yet Vanessa was claiming ownership of both.
"Even if this contract is real," I said, "it doesn't prove you own designs I created myself.""
Vanessa gave a short laugh.
"You've been sewing for a few years. You think that makes you the owner of every dress you make?""
"I designed the teal gown.""
"Brianna submitted it.""
"She stole it.""
"Prove it.""
The same words again.
I looked at my father.
"Do you believe her?""
He swallowed.
"I believe we should resolve this privately.""
"That's not what I asked.""
He looked exhausted, and for a moment I saw the man who used to sit beside my bed and read stories after Mom died.
Then Vanessa put a hand on his shoulder.
He lowered his eyes.
I turned away.
"There's something else," my father said.
I stopped.
He reached into the folder and removed a photograph.
It showed my mother in the Carter Atelier studio, standing beside a worktable covered in blue fabric. A little girl sat on the floor nearby, holding a doll dressed in a miniature gown.
The little girl was me.
I remembered the room.
I remembered the smell of warm fabric and the sound of my mother's sewing machine.
But I didn't remember the woman standing behind her.
She had long red hair and wore a dark green coat. Her face was partially turned away from the camera, but I could see the distinctive silver necklace at her throat.
It was shaped like a needle.
The same necklace I'd seen in the photograph of my mother and Mrs. Bell.
Except this woman wasn't Margaret Bell.
I looked closer.
"Who is she?""
Vanessa reached for the photograph, but I pulled it away.
"Give that to me.""
"No.""
Her expression sharpened.
"Nia.""
"Who is she?""
My father stood beside me.
"That photograph was taken during the final Starfall fitting. Your mother invited several people to the studio.""
"Who is the woman?""
He hesitated.
Then he said, "Her name was Claire Whitmore. She was a buyer for a major fashion company. She wanted to acquire the entire collection.""
"Did she?""
"No. Your mother refused.""
Vanessa's face tightened.
"That was a long time ago. It has nothing to do with Friday.""
"Then why are you showing me this?""
My father didn't answer.
I turned the photograph over.
On the back, beneath the date, was a handwritten note.
Claire says the original belongs to the girl who inherits the stars.
I read it aloud.
Vanessa moved so quickly that I barely had time to react.
She snatched the photograph from my hand and tore it in half.
"Enough!""
The room fell silent.
Brianna stared at her mother.
Even my father looked shocked.
Vanessa crushed the torn pieces in her fist.
"You have no idea what you're digging into," she said.
"Your mother made promises she couldn't keep. People lost money. People lost opportunities. And now you're trying to reopen something that should have stayed buried.""
I stared at the scraps in her hand.
"You knew Claire.""
Vanessa didn't answer.
"You knew her before you married Dad.""
"Stop.""
"Did you work with her at Mitchell House?""
"Stop talking!""
The shout echoed through the living room.
My father stepped between us.
"Vanessa, calm down.""
She pointed at me.
"She is destroying this family over a fantasy.""
"No," I said quietly.
"I'm trying to understand why everyone is so afraid of a dead woman's designs.""
Vanessa went pale.
For the first time, I saw something beneath her anger that looked almost like panic.
Then she smiled.
It was a cold, deliberate smile.
"Fine. You want the truth? Go to the old Carter Atelier studio tomorrow.
See what's left. Maybe then you'll understand why your mother never gave you what you think she did.""
My father grabbed her arm.
"Vanessa, don't.""
She shook him off.
"What? She wants answers. Let her find them.""
I looked at my father.
"Where is the studio?""
He didn't respond.
Vanessa laughed softly.
"Ask your father. He's the one who kept the key.""
I turned toward him.
He stared at the floor.
Slowly, he reached into his pocket and removed a small brass key.
The same shape as the one Mrs. Bell had given me.
Except this one had a tiny number stamped into its side.
*317.*
"Your mother left a locked drawer in the studio," he said.
"I never opened it.""
"Why not?""
He looked at me with wet eyes.
"Because she made me promise that if anything happened to her, I wouldn't open it until you were ready.""
I held out my hand.
He placed the key in my palm.
It was warm from his pocket.
"What's inside?"" I whispered.
"I don't know.""
Vanessa folded her arms.
"But I do know one thing, Nia. Whatever you find, it won't change the fact that Mitchell House owns Starfall.""
I closed my fingers around the key.
"Then why are you so afraid of me opening the drawer?""
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Brianna's phone chimed.
She glanced at the screen and suddenly stood.
"Mom?""
Vanessa turned.
"What is it?""
Brianna held up her phone.
"It's Claire Whitmore. She just confirmed she'll attend Friday's launch.""
Vanessa's face drained of color.
My father sank onto the sofa.
And as Brianna read the message aloud, I understood that the woman in the photograph wasn't just a piece of my mother's past.
She was someone Vanessa had spent six years trying to keep away from me.
May you like
Because Claire Whitmore had sent one final sentence.
Tell Nia Carter that her mother left the original Starfall contract with me—and that I'm finally ready to give it back.
