Chapter 9: Eighteen Million Reasons to Lie
Amara didn't speak for several seconds.
Eighteen million dollars.
The number felt unreal.
She had spent years buying discounted fabric, repairing old clothes, and saving every dollar from her part-time job.
Meanwhile, the money her mother had left for her had supposedly been stolen.
“Daniel,” she finally said, “are you certain?””
“I've seen the original will. Victor Hayes kept a copy because he suspected the replacement documents were fraudulent.””
“Why would a hospital administrator have my mother's will?””
“He wasn't supposed to. But your mother had asked him to witness the signing because her attorney was unavailable that afternoon.””
Amara closed her eyes.
“Can he prove it?””
“He has the original witness records, a signed copy, and a letter from your mother's attorney.””
Amara looked at the clock.
“When can I meet him?””
“Tonight. Seven o'clock.””
“Send me the address.””
The meeting took place in a private conference room at a law office.
Victor Hayes was waiting when Amara arrived.
He was an elderly man with a walking stick and a tired expression.
When he saw her, he stood.
“You have your mother's courage.””
Amara sat across from him.
“I don't want compliments. I want the truth.””
Victor nodded.
“You deserve it.””
He opened a leather folder.
Inside was a copy of the original will.
Amara's name appeared repeatedly.
Her mother had left her the entire fashion business, the original collection, the rights to every unpublished design, and the trust fund.
A separate clause established that the inheritance would become fully accessible when Amara turned twenty-one.
She had turned twenty-one the previous year.
“Why didn't I receive any of this?””
Victor removed another document.
“Because someone filed a second will six days after your mother's death.””
Amara read the document.
It transferred everything to Vanessa.
The signature looked similar to her mother's.
But the handwriting wasn't quite right.
“The signature was forged,” Victor said.
“Can you prove it?””
“Yes. Your mother's attorney has handwriting samples from the original documents. An independent examiner confirmed that the replacement signature was not authentic.””
Amara stared at the paperwork.
“Why did you keep this?””
Victor looked down.
“Because I knew something was wrong. I was told the family had settled everything legally. I accepted that explanation for too long.””
“Did Vanessa threaten you?””
Victor hesitated.
“She told me that if I spoke, my own daughter would lose her job. She knew where my family lived.””
Amara's anger softened slightly.
“I understand being afraid. But I lost six years.””
Victor nodded.
“I know. And I am sorry.””
He pushed another envelope across the table.
“Your mother left this with me. She asked me to give it to you when you were old enough to understand what she had built.””
Amara opened it.
Inside was a small gold key and a handwritten note.
My darling,
The money is not your future. It is simply a tool to help you build one.
If you ever receive this inheritance, I want you to remember that you do not owe anyone access to it.
Not family. Not friends. Not people who suddenly remember how much they love you.
Use it to create something that belongs entirely to you.
And never forget the little girl who sat beside me and dreamed of becoming a designer.
Amara held the letter against her chest.
For the first time in years, she felt close to her mother.
Not because she had found money.
But because she had found proof that her mother had believed in her future.
Daniel cleared his throat.
“There is one more thing.””
Amara looked up.
“Vanessa has already learned that we found the original will.””
“How?””
“Someone accessed the archived records this afternoon.””
Amara's expression hardened.
“Can she still claim the inheritance?””
“She can try. But the evidence is now strong enough to support a fraud investigation.””
Victor leaned forward.
“There's something I need to tell you about the night your mother died.””
Amara went still.
“Go ahead.””
“I was the administrator who reviewed the emergency report. I remember Vanessa arriving with Richard. She insisted that the transfer authorization be signed immediately.””
“Was my mother conscious?””
Victor nodded.
“She was.””
Amara's eyes filled.
“What did she say?””
Victor looked at her with deep regret.
“She asked us to call her daughter. She said she wanted to speak to you one last time.””
Amara pressed her lips together.
“Did anyone call me?””
Victor shook his head.
“No.””
Amara's tears fell.
“Why?””
“Vanessa said you were too young to understand what was happening. Richard agreed that you shouldn't be disturbed.””
Amara looked away.
She had been sixteen.
She had been sitting in her bedroom that night, waiting for her father to return with news about her mother.
Nobody had called.
Nobody had told her that her mother was asking for her.
Nobody had given her the chance to say goodbye.
“Did my mother know I wasn't coming?””
Victor nodded slowly.
“She asked for you several times.””
Amara closed her eyes.
Daniel placed a hand on the table.
“Amara, we can take this to the authorities. But tomorrow's competition is also important. Brielle's entry is still under investigation, and Vanessa may try to interfere.””
Amara wiped her cheeks.
“Then we make sure she can't.””
The following morning, Amara arrived at the competition venue carrying two garment bags.
One contained the midnight-blue gown.
The other contained her mother's original ivory design.
Eleanor met her backstage.
“Are you ready?””
Amara nodded.
“More than ever.””
The venue was enormous.
Rows of seats surrounded a brightly lit runway. Fashion journalists, industry executives, designers, and sponsors filled the room.
A large screen displayed the competition's title.
*RISING DESIGNERS INTERNATIONAL SHOWCASE.*
Brielle was already backstage.
She approached Amara wearing a simple black dress.
“I wanted to tell you something.””
Amara looked at her.
“What?””
“I spoke to the organizers. I'm going to withdraw my entry and admit that the dress was yours.””
Amara nodded.
“That's the right thing to do.””
Brielle swallowed.
“I also told the police about the recording.””
“Good.””
Brielle looked down.
“I don't expect you to forgive me.””
“Then don't ask.””
Brielle nodded.
A stage assistant approached.
“Miss Williams? You're needed in the judges' preparation room.””
Amara followed her.
Inside, Eleanor was speaking with two competition officials.
But someone else was standing near the window.
Vanessa.
She wore a white designer suit and held a leather handbag.
Amara stopped.
“What is she doing here?””
Vanessa smiled.
“I'm here to support my daughter.””
Eleanor immediately stepped forward.
“You aren't authorized to enter this room.””
Vanessa ignored her.
“Amara, darling, can we talk privately?””
“No.””
Vanessa placed her handbag on the table.
“Then let's talk business.””
Amara stared at her.
“What business?””
Vanessa opened the bag and removed a thick envelope.
“I'm prepared to settle this entire misunderstanding.””
Amara didn't touch it.
“How much?””
“Five hundred thousand dollars.””
Amara laughed.
“You stole eighteen million dollars from my inheritance, and now you want to buy my silence for half a million?””
Vanessa's smile vanished.
“So you know.””
“Yes.””
Vanessa leaned closer.
“Listen carefully. The original will may exist, but it will take years to recover that money. Legal fees, court appearances, investigations. You'll lose everything you have trying to fight me.””
Amara looked at the envelope.
Then back at Vanessa.
“I'd rather lose every dollar than let you keep one.””
Vanessa's jaw tightened.
“You sound just like your mother.””
“Thank you.””
For a moment, Vanessa looked genuinely furious.
Then she straightened her jacket.
“You think Eleanor Price is your friend? She wants the collection. She's been waiting years to reclaim those designs.””
Eleanor stepped forward.
“My only interest is protecting the original creators.””
Vanessa laughed.
“Then perhaps you should ask Amara why her mother's final collection was never completed.””
Amara frowned.
“What are you talking about?””
Vanessa reached into her handbag again.
This time, she pulled out a photograph.
It showed her mother standing in the fashion studio with a man Amara had never seen before.
On the back was a handwritten message.
*THE ORIGINAL DESIGNER WAS NEVER THE WOMAN YOU THOUGHT SHE WAS.*
Vanessa placed the photograph on the table.
“Your mother stole her most famous collection from someone else.””
Amara stared at the picture.
Eleanor's face turned pale.
“Where did you get that?””
Vanessa smiled.
“Ask your father.””
Amara turned toward Eleanor.
“Do you know who that man is?””
Eleanor didn't answer.
She simply stared at the photograph.
Then she whispered a name.
“Julian Cross.””
Amara frowned.
“Who is he?””
Eleanor slowly sat down.
“Your mother's first design partner.””
“Was he responsible for the Midnight Garden collection?””
Eleanor nodded.
“But there's something you need to understand. Julian disappeared before the collection was completed.””
Vanessa smiled triumphantly.
“Exactly. And the truth about why he disappeared is about to come out.””
A stage assistant appeared at the door.
“Miss Williams, the judges are ready. You're scheduled to present first.””
Amara looked at the photograph one final time.
Then she picked up the garment bags.
She had come to prove that Brielle had stolen her dress.
But now it seemed the entire collection carried a secret that went back even further than her mother's betrayal.
As she stepped toward the runway, Eleanor caught her arm.
“Amara, wait.””
“What?””
Eleanor looked directly into her eyes.
“Before you show them that gown, you need to know something about Julian Cross.””
She swallowed.
“He was your biological father.””
Amara's world stopped.
Richard wasn't her biological father?
Then who had she been calling Dad all these years?
And why had everyone kept the truth from her?
The announcer's voice boomed through the speakers.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our next designer, Amara Williams!””
Amara stepped toward the light.
But before she reached the runway, her phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number appeared.
*DON'T TRUST ELEANOR. SHE KNOWS WHO REALLY DESIGNED THE DRESS. ASK HER WHAT HAPPENED TO JULIAN.*
Amara slowly turned.
May you like
Eleanor was standing behind her.
And for the first time, the woman who had promised to help her looked afraid.
