Chapter 3: The Man Waiting in the Workshop
At 6:58 a.m., I slipped through the back door.
The November air was cold enough to sting my cheeks. I wore black jeans, an old cream sweater, and the only pair of boots that didn't have a broken heel.
My backpack contained three things: my original sketches, the printed withdrawal email, and the USB drive.
The workshop stood behind the garage.
My mother used to work there.
After she died, Vanessa turned it into a storage room, filling it with broken furniture, cardboard boxes, and things nobody wanted.
I hadn't entered in almost two years.
The door creaked when I pushed it open.
"Hello?""
A light flickered near the back wall.
Then a familiar voice answered.
"You're late.""
I froze.
A man stepped out from behind a workbench.
It was Daniel Brooks, my mother's older brother.
My uncle.
He lived in Savannah and rarely visited since Vanessa and my father had argued with him over my mother's belongings.
"Uncle Daniel?""
He nodded.
"Close the door.""
I did.
He looked at my cheek.
"She hit you?""
I swallowed.
"Twice.""
His jaw tightened.
"That woman has always had a talent for making everyone believe she's the victim.""
I placed my backpack on the workbench.
"How did you know about the recording?""
"Because I received a message from someone who heard Vanessa discussing it.""
"Who?""
He shook his head.
"Not yet. First, show me what you brought.""
I handed him the USB drive.
He inserted it into his laptop and listened to the recordings.
His expression grew darker with every passing second.
When the conversation about the withdrawal form ended, he removed his glasses.
"Your father signed this?""
"That's what Vanessa said.""
Daniel leaned back.
"Emily, I need you to understand something. Your mother didn't leave you with nothing.""
I frowned.
"What does that have to do with the dress?""
"Everything.""
He opened a metal filing cabinet and removed a thick envelope.
Inside were several documents, photographs, and a faded legal letter.
He placed the letter in front of me.
"Your mother owned a small design studio before she got sick. It wasn't worth a fortune, but she built it herself. She also left a trust for you.""
I looked at him.
"A trust?""
"Yes. It was supposed to provide for your education and preserve her design archive until you turned eighteen.""
My mouth went dry.
"Why didn't Dad tell me?""
Daniel gave a humorless laugh.
"Because your father became the trustee after she died. Vanessa convinced him that managing everything himself was easier.""
I flipped through the papers.
The trust had been established six years earlier.
There were provisions for my education, business expenses, and the preservation of my mother's original designs.
Then I noticed something.
A transfer authorization.
My mother's design archive had been transferred to a company called Miller Creative Holdings.
"What's this?""
Daniel stared at the page.
"That's what I've been trying to investigate.""
"Who owns Miller Creative Holdings?""
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he pulled out another document.
The company registration listed two directors.
Vanessa Miller.
And Brittany Miller.
I felt sick.
"They stole my mother's designs?""
"Some of them. I suspect they've been using her old patterns for Brittany's portfolio.""
"But why?""
Daniel pointed toward the final page.
"Because your mother's archive has significant commercial value. Several of her unfinished designs were never publicly released.""
I looked down at the documents.
"Does Dad know?""
Daniel sighed.
"I believe he knows more than he's admitting.""
A car door slammed outside.
We both turned toward the workshop window.
A black SUV had pulled into the driveway.
My father stepped out.
He looked around before walking toward the house.
"He's home," I whispered.
Daniel closed the filing cabinet.
"Then we have a problem.""
I grabbed the USB drive.
"What do we do?""
"Go to the competition. Keep your evidence safe. I'll handle the documents.""
I shook my head.
"I'm not leaving until I know why he did this.""
Daniel looked at me carefully.
"Because Vanessa promised him something.""
"What?""
"Control of your mother's company. If Brittany wins tomorrow and becomes the public face of the collection, they can claim the designs as part of her professional portfolio.""
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"They're using my mother's work to build Brittany's career?""
"Yes.""
My hands trembled.
"And Dad agreed?""
Daniel didn't answer.
A shadow passed across the workshop window.
Someone was standing outside.
Then came three sharp knocks.
"Emily?""
My father's voice.
I turned toward the door.
"Open up. We need to talk.""
Daniel put a finger to his lips.
My father knocked again.
"Emily, I know you're in there.""
I took one step toward the door.
Then I heard him say something that made me stop.
"Listen to me. Vanessa doesn't know the truth about the withdrawal form.""
I stared at the wooden door.
"What truth?"" I called.
Silence.
Then my father spoke again.
"I never signed it.""
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Daniel looked at me.
The doorknob began to turn.
May you like
And my father whispered:
"Emily, before you hear what Vanessa recorded last night, you need to know who actually signed your name.""
