Chapter 6: My Stepmother's Price
The drive home was silent.
Dad kept both hands on the steering wheel. His jaw was clenched so tightly that a muscle moved beneath his cheek.
I sat in the passenger seat, holding my phone.
The photograph of Denise and Vivian remained open on the screen.
Denise was smiling.
My mother stood several feet behind them, looking directly at the camera.
She wasn't smiling.
She looked exhausted.
“Dad?””
He didn't answer.
“Did you know Denise worked with Mom?””
“I knew they knew each other.””
“That's not what I asked.””
He pulled into a quiet parking lot and turned off the engine.
“No,” he said finally.
“I didn't know Denise had been involved in the collection.””
“Then why does Margaret think she delivered the sketches?””
He rubbed his forehead.
“Your mother told me she had an assistant. She never mentioned Denise by name.””
I looked at the photograph again.
“Maybe she didn't want you to know.””
Dad turned toward me.
“Lily, I need you to understand something. Your mother trusted people. Sometimes too much. She never wanted me to get involved in her professional problems.””
“But she left you a letter.””
He looked down.
“I should have told you everything sooner.””
I leaned against the seat.
“I don't need you to protect me from the truth.””
He nodded.
Then he started the car.
When we arrived home, Denise was in the living room with Vanessa.
They were watching television.
Denise looked up.
“How did the meeting go?””
Dad dropped his keys onto the table.
“Turn off the television.””
Vanessa frowned.
“Excuse me?””
“Now.””
Denise picked up the remote.
The screen went black.
Dad stood in front of them.
“Why did you never tell me you worked with Eleanor?””
Denise's expression changed.
“I beg your pardon?””
“At Eastbrook. During the Crimson Garden competition.””
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then she laughed.
“Oh, Richard. That was years ago.””
“You delivered Eleanor's designs to Vivian.””
Denise set the remote down.
“I was working in the fashion industry. I delivered documents for several designers.””
“Did you know Vivian claimed ownership of Eleanor's work?””
Denise's eyes narrowed.
“Richard, I don't appreciate being interrogated in my own home.””
“Our home,” Dad corrected.
Vanessa sat up.
“Can everyone stop acting like Mom committed a crime?””
I turned toward her.
“Did you know?””
She looked at me.
“Know what?””
“That your mother worked with mine. That she helped Vivian take Mom's designs.””
Vanessa laughed.
“You're seriously accusing my mother now?””
Denise stood.
“Lily, this is getting out of hand.””
“Then explain the contract.””
Denise's face hardened.
“What contract?””
“The one with Mom's signature. The one printed on paper from 2016, even though it supposedly dates back to 2014.””
Silence.
Then Denise looked at Dad.
“You let her go through Eleanor's things?””
Dad stepped forward.
“Answer the question.””
Denise crossed her arms.
“Your wife was very talented. But she was also difficult. She refused to understand how the industry worked.””
“My wife?”” Dad repeated.
Denise ignored him.
“Vivian gave her opportunities. Connections. Financial support. Eleanor couldn't accept that someone else might improve her work.””
I stared at her.
“So you helped Vivian steal it?””
Denise looked directly at me.
“I helped her build a business.””
“Using my mother's designs.””
“Using work that would have gone nowhere without us.””
Dad's face turned red.
“Get out.””
Denise blinked.
“What?””
“You heard me.””
Vanessa stood.
“Dad!””
He pointed toward the stairs.
“Both of you. Upstairs.””
Denise didn't move.
“You're making a terrible mistake.””
“No. I made one when I believed you were the person you pretended to be.””
She picked up her purse.
But before she could leave, I asked one question.
“Where is the blue envelope?””
Denise froze.
Only for a second.
But it was enough.
I stepped closer.
“You know what I'm talking about.””
She looked at me.
“I have no idea.””
“Mom recorded a message. She said the envelope contained proof of who signed the transfer.””
Denise's lips tightened.
Then she turned to Dad.
“Richard, if you allow this girl to keep digging, you're going to destroy everything.””
Dad didn't move.
“Then perhaps everything deserves to be destroyed.””
Denise grabbed Vanessa's arm and pulled her upstairs.
A door slammed.
Dad sank onto the sofa.
I sat beside him.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then he whispered, “I think I married the wrong person.””
I looked at him.
“You married someone who knew how much Mom's work meant to us.””
He covered his face.
I wanted to comfort him, but I was too angry.
That night, I went back to the storage room.
I searched every box.
The blue envelope wasn't there.
I checked the sewing room, the closet, and the drawers in Mom's old desk.
Nothing.
Then I remembered the small wooden sewing table she used before she became too sick to stand for long periods.
It had been moved into the garage years ago.
I pulled it away from the wall.
One of the drawers wouldn't open.
I tugged harder.
Something shifted.
There was a false bottom.
I carefully lifted the thin wooden panel.
Underneath was a small blue envelope.
My heart started pounding.
I opened it.
Inside were three items.
A signed statement from my mother.
A copy of the original design registration.
And a small USB drive.
The statement was dated April 2015.
It read:
I, Eleanor Carter, confirm that I have never transferred ownership of The Crimson Garden collection to Vivian Cole, Denise Cole, or any associated business.
Any document bearing my signature that claims otherwise is fraudulent.
Beneath it was a second paragraph.
I have retained the original sketches, dated drafts, and correspondence proving that my work was removed from my possession without authorization.
I nearly dropped the paper.
Then I noticed another note.
Lily, if you ever find this, I want you to know that none of this was your fault. You were the reason I kept creating. I wanted to leave you something beautiful, even if I couldn't finish it myself.
Tears blurred the words.
I pressed the paper against my chest.
For a moment, I was fourteen again, sitting beside Mom in the hospital room.
She had held my hand and told me to keep sewing.
I hadn't understood why she said it with such urgency.
Now I did.
I plugged the USB drive into my laptop.
There were several folders.
Photographs.
Scanned documents.
Emails.
And audio recordings.
I opened the first email.
It was dated March 2014.
The sender was Denise.
The recipient was Vivian.
I've copied the final sketches. Eleanor hasn't noticed yet. I'll bring the original pattern sheets tomorrow.
My stomach twisted.
I opened the next email.
Vivian had replied:
Good. Once the transfer paperwork is complete, we can present the collection as a collaborative project. Eleanor won't have the resources to challenge us.
I covered my mouth.
There was more.
A third email.
If Richard finds out, make sure he believes Eleanor signed the agreement. She trusts him enough not to question it.
I read the sentence twice.
They had planned everything.
I opened the final folder.
It contained a video recording.
The thumbnail showed my mother sitting at her sewing table.
I clicked play.
The image flickered.
Then Mom appeared.
She looked tired, but her eyes were clear.
“If you're watching this, Lily, it means someone finally found the evidence I couldn't get anyone to listen to.””
She paused.
“I want you to know something. Vivian didn't create The Crimson Garden. Denise didn't create it either.
I did. Every flower, every seam, every line was mine.””
She held up a sketch.
“But there's something else. I discovered that Vivian wasn't the only person involved. Someone from Eastbrook helped her change the registration.””
The recording stopped briefly.
Then Mom leaned closer to the camera.
“And that person is…”
The screen suddenly went black.
A corrupted-file message appeared.
I stared at the laptop.
“No. No, no, no.””
I tried opening it again.
Nothing.
Then I heard footsteps.
I turned.
Vanessa stood in the doorway.
Her face was pale.
“What are you watching?””
I quickly closed the laptop.
“Nothing.””
She looked at the blue envelope in my hand.
Then at the USB drive.
“Where did you get that?””
I stood.
“Why?””
She stepped inside and closed the door.
“Lily, listen to me. You need to give me that drive.””
“Absolutely not.””
“I'm serious.””
“So am I.””
She moved closer.
“Vivian said those files could ruin everyone.””
I stared at her.
“Everyone?””
Vanessa looked away.
“Mom told me not to get involved.””
“Your mother stole my mother's designs.””
“She said she was protecting the family!””
I froze.
“What family?””
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears, but her voice remained sharp.
“You think you're the only one who suffered? My mother spent years trying to build something. She said Eleanor was going to ruin everything by exposing them.””
“Then why did she help Vivian?””
Vanessa shook her head.
“I don't know all the details.””
“Then why are you here?””
She looked at the USB drive.
“Because Vivian called my mother tonight.””
I felt a chill.
“What did she say?””
Vanessa swallowed.
“She said if those files reached Eastbrook, she'd make sure neither of us ever got near the fashion industry again.””
I stared at her.
“Why would you care about my future?””
Vanessa's expression changed.
Then she whispered something I wasn't expecting.
“Because I applied for the same scholarship.””
I blinked.
“What?””
Vanessa pulled a folded application from her pocket.
Her name was printed at the top.
*Vanessa Cole — Eastbrook Full Scholarship Candidate.*
I looked at her.
“You've been competing against me this entire time?””
She nodded.
“And Vivian promised me the scholarship if I helped her.””
The room went silent.
I took one step backward.
“You destroyed my dress because you wanted me out of the competition.””
Vanessa's eyes filled.
“I didn't know you would make another one.””
“That doesn't make it better.””
She looked at the USB drive again.
Then she whispered:
“There's something else you need to know. Vivian didn't just promise me the scholarship.””
I waited.
“She promised me something much bigger.””
“What?””
Vanessa's voice dropped.
“She promised to give my mother the fashion academy's ownership rights if we could prove that Eleanor had signed the original transfer.””
My blood ran cold.
“Ownership rights to what?””
Vanessa looked at me.
“The entire Crimson Garden collection.””
Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a photograph.
It showed the final page of a document.
At the bottom was a signature I recognized immediately.
My father's.
Dad had signed a document transferring something to Vivian.
And the date was three weeks after Mom died.
I stared at Vanessa.
“What did my father sign?””
She shook her head.
“I don't know.””
Then she looked toward the door.
“But Vivian does.””
And at that exact moment, my phone rang.
It was Dad.
His voice was shaking.
“Lily, don't give Vanessa anything. I've just found out what that document really was.””
He paused.
May you like
Then whispered:
“Your mother left you something worth millions. And Vivian has been trying to get her hands on it for eleven years.””
