Chapter 8: The Contract Nobody Was Supposed to See
Claire Whitmore closed the studio door behind her.
She didn't reach for the portfolio.
Instead, she looked directly at me.
"Are you alone?""
"Mrs. Bell is here.""
"I can see that."" Her gaze moved toward the windows.
"I meant, did anyone follow you?""
Mrs. Bell frowned.
"Claire, what is going on?""
Claire took a folded piece of paper from her coat and placed it on the worktable.
"Vanessa called my office yesterday. She offered to buy every document I still possess relating to Elena's collection.""
My stomach tightened.
"Why would she do that if Mitchell House already owns Starfall?""
"Because she knows the ownership claim isn't as secure as she has pretended.""
Claire opened her bag and removed a thick folder.
"And because she knows I kept the original.""
I stared at the folder.
"The contract?""
"The contract, the licensing schedule, and the correspondence between Elena and Mitchell House.""
Mrs. Bell pulled out a chair.
"Why didn't you come forward sooner?""
Claire's expression tightened.
"Because I was afraid.""
The answer surprised me.
"You were a fashion executive," I said.
"You had resources. Lawyers. Connections.""
"I also had a career I had spent twenty years building. When I questioned the way Mitchell House was acquiring independent designs, I was told to mind my own business. When I refused to sign a false statement about Elena's contract, I lost my position.""
She looked down at the folder.
"After Elena died, I tried to challenge the transfer. But I didn't have the full ownership record, and I couldn't persuade Daniel to cooperate. Vanessa insisted that Elena had knowingly sold everything.""
"She showed my father a different contract.""
"She showed him a version of the contract," Claire corrected.
"One that contained language that wasn't in the agreement Elena signed with me present.""
I looked at the portfolio.
"Can you prove that?""
Claire opened the folder.
Inside were carbon copies of letters, dated emails printed from an old archive, and a photocopy of the original licensing agreement.
She laid the documents out carefully.
"This is the agreement Elena signed. Three designs. Two years.
Limited manufacturing rights. No transfer of ownership.""
She placed another sheet beside it.
"This is the version Mitchell House later filed with the licensing office. It includes an additional clause transferring the entire Starfall collection.""
I compared the pages.
The wording was almost identical, except for one paragraph inserted above the signatures.
That paragraph granted Mitchell House perpetual rights to all designs associated with the Starfall name.
My hands went cold.
"Did my mother sign that version?""
"No," Claire said.
"The additional paragraph wasn't on the copy she signed.""
"How do you know?""
"Because I watched her sign the original. I countersigned the licensing schedule, and I kept a copy in my files.""
She tapped the photocopy.
"Your mother's signature is genuine. The problem is that someone used it on a version of the agreement she never approved.""
Mrs. Bell leaned forward.
"Who altered it?""
Claire hesitated.
"I can tell you who had access to the documents. I cannot tell you who physically changed the wording without a proper investigation.""
"Vanessa?""
"Vanessa was responsible for the company's licensing records at the time. She handled the paperwork after Elena became ill.""
I felt sick.
"She knew Mom was dying.""
"Yes.""
"And she used that to take her work?""
Claire's voice softened.
"That's what the evidence suggests. But I want you to understand something, Nia. You don't need to prove every suspicion about Vanessa to protect your own designs. We need to establish what you created, when you created it, and what rights your mother left you.""
I looked down at my sketches.
"What about Brianna's dress?""
"If she submitted your work as her own, that's a separate issue. Your original sketches, dated photographs, messages, and competition submission could help establish your authorship.""
For the first time, the situation seemed less like an impossible wall and more like a problem with a way through.
Then Claire picked up the sealed envelope from the drawer.
She studied the handwriting.
"Elena wanted me to open this with you.""
"What's inside?""
"I don't know. She gave it to me shortly before she died and asked me to keep it safe. But when I learned Vanessa had taken control of the collection, I thought giving it to your father would be safer.""
"Did you?""
Claire nodded.
"I gave it to Daniel. He told me he would protect it.""
I thought of the envelope hidden in my sketchbook.
The letter my father had written to Vanessa.
The promise he had failed to keep.
"What did he do with it?""
"I don't know. I assumed he had passed it to you.""
"He didn't.""
Claire closed her eyes.
For a moment, she looked older than she had when she'd entered the room.
"Then I made another mistake.""
She handed me the envelope.
"Whatever Elena wrote, you should read it.""
I opened it carefully.
Inside was a handwritten letter and a photograph of a younger version of my mother standing beside a woman I didn't recognize.
The woman held a baby.
Me.
The letter began:
My darling Nia,
There are things I wanted to tell you when you were old enough to understand. If I have not been able to tell you myself, I hope the people around you have been brave enough to tell the truth.
I swallowed hard.
Starfall is not just a collection of dresses. It is the beginning of something your father, Margaret, Claire, and I dreamed of building together: a fashion house where independent designers could keep ownership of their work.
I have placed the original ownership documents in the studio because I do not trust the people who want to acquire them.
If someone claims that the entire collection belongs to Mitchell House, ask to see the original licensing schedule. If they cannot produce it, do not accept their claim.
I looked up.
"She knew.""
Claire nodded.
"Elena suspected someone was trying to expand the agreement beyond its original terms. She was preparing to challenge it.""
I returned to the letter.
There is one more thing you must understand. The Starfall collection is only part of what I have left you.
My heart pounded.
The name Carter Atelier was never registered as a personal asset. It was placed in a trust for you, with your father as temporary custodian until you turned eighteen. The trust includes the studio, the original design archive, and the rights to any unlicensed designs in the collection.
I stopped reading.
"The studio was in a trust?""
Claire nodded slowly.
"That would explain why the transfer record troubled me. Mitchell House could acquire specific licensed rights, but it couldn't automatically take property held in a separate trust.""
"Then why did they take the worktable?""
"Because the warehouse may have accepted a transfer authorization without checking the trust records. We need the complete documents to determine what happened.""
Mrs. Bell examined the letter.
"Does the trust still exist?""
Claire turned to the final page.
"There should be an annual statement filed with the trustee. If the trust was never properly dissolved, the assets may still be legally protected.""
I stared at the document.
"Who was the trustee?""
Claire looked at the signature.
"Your father.""
The silence that followed felt enormous.
Daniel hadn't simply known about the collection.
He'd been responsible for protecting it.
And he'd signed the paperwork that allowed the worktable and archive to disappear.
I felt anger rise, but beneath it was something worse.
Disappointment.
"Why would he do that?""
Claire didn't offer an easy answer.
"Fear makes people sign things they don't understand. Guilt makes them avoid looking at the consequences. Sometimes people do both.""
My phone buzzed.
A message from Brianna appeared.
Mom says you're meeting with Claire. You need to stop before you embarrass yourself.
A second message followed.
By the way, the showcase judges have received a complaint about your midnight-blue design.
I opened the attachment.
It was a formal notice from the school competition committee.
*DESIGN OWNERSHIP DISPUTE — ENTRY UNDER REVIEW.*
The complaint claimed that my gown infringed Mitchell House's protected Starfall collection.
My throat tightened.
"They're trying to disqualify me.""
Claire read the notice.
"Then we need to respond immediately.""
"How?""
"With your dated sketches, the original competition submission, and evidence showing when you first accessed the blue fabric. We'll prepare a statement identifying your work and the specific design elements you created.""
Mrs. Bell gathered the papers.
"I'll provide a witness statement confirming when Nia began making the gown in my shop.""
Claire nodded.
"And I'll provide the original licensing records.""
For the first time, I felt as if I had a team.
Then Claire looked at the photograph of my mother and the unidentified woman holding me.
She turned it over.
Her expression changed.
"What is it?"" I asked.
She didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she handed me the photograph.
On the back, my mother had written a name.
*Lydia Carter.*
Beneath it was a date.
The day I was born.
I looked at Claire.
"Who is Lydia Carter?""
Claire's face went pale.
"Your mother's sister.""
I stared at her.
"I don't have an aunt.""
"Not one you've met.""
"Why?""
Claire looked toward the door.
"Because Lydia disappeared from Elena's life shortly before the first Starfall collection was completed. Elena spent years trying to find her.""
"Did she ever?""
Claire slowly shook her head.
"Not until the week before she died.""
My fingers tightened around the photograph.
"What did Mom find out?""
Claire's voice dropped.
"That Lydia had worked at Mitchell House under a different name.""
Before I could ask another question, a car horn sounded outside.
Mrs. Bell moved toward the window.
A black sedan had stopped beside the building.
Vanessa stepped out.
She wasn't alone.
A man in a dark suit followed her, carrying a leather briefcase.
Claire immediately gathered the documents.
"She's brought the company's attorney.""
Vanessa looked through the glass and saw us.
Her face hardened.
Then she pointed directly at me.
May you like
Even from across the street, I could read her lips.
Give me the contract.
