Chapter 7: The Woman My Mother Trusted
"Emily?""
Margaret Collins said my name as though she was afraid I might disappear.
I hadn't seen her since my mother's funeral.
Back then, she had stood beside my father, holding a white umbrella over my head while rain soaked the cemetery. She'd promised to visit. She'd promised to help me whenever I needed her.
Then she'd vanished.
I took a step toward her.
"Where have you been?""
Margaret lowered her eyes.
"Trying to keep a promise to your mother.""
"What promise?""
She glanced toward the stage, where Vanessa was speaking with the competition director.
"Not here. We need somewhere private.""
I held up the recorder.
"I think everyone has had enough secrets.""
Margaret nodded.
"You're right. Then let's start with the truth.""
She opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph of my mother sitting in her old design studio. She was smiling, wearing her favorite blue cardigan, with fabric samples scattered across the table.
On the back, she'd written:
For Emily, when she's old enough to understand.
My throat tightened.
Margaret handed me another document.
It was a legal agreement dated three days before my mother's death.
"Your mother changed her estate plan shortly before she passed," Margaret explained.
"She discovered that Vanessa had been asking questions about her design archive.""
I looked up.
"Vanessa knew Mom's designs were valuable?""
"She knew enough to understand that they could be worth a fortune.""
Margaret pointed to a paragraph.
"Your mother transferred control of her design studio into a protected creative trust. I was appointed its independent administrator.""
I frowned.
"But Uncle Daniel said Dad was the trustee.""
"Richard was appointed to manage your educational funds. He was never given ownership of the studio.""
I looked at the document again.
There was a clause written in bold.
*Upon Emily Carter's eighteenth birthday, ownership of the creative archive and all associated intellectual property shall pass to Emily, subject to independent verification of the original works.*
I read it twice.
"Mom left everything to me?""
Margaret nodded.
"Every original design. Every pattern. Every unpublished collection.""
My eyes filled.
"Then why did Vanessa transfer them?""
"Because she believed your father had authority to do so. And because someone helped her create documents that appeared legitimate.""
I thought about the photograph Patricia had shown me.
"What about Mr. Harrison?""
Margaret's expression darkened.
"He's been trying to purchase the archive for six months. Vanessa promised him access to the collection in exchange for financing Brittany's fashion career.""
"Can he buy something that doesn't belong to her?""
"No. And that's why your mother created the trust.""
I looked across the room.
Mr. Harrison was now speaking with Vanessa.
He noticed me watching and quickly looked away.
"Why didn't you contact me when I turned eighteen?""
Margaret took a shaky breath.
"I tried. Your father intercepted my letters. I also discovered that someone had been monitoring communications connected to your mother's old company.""
"Who?""
"Vanessa's attorney.""
I felt anger rising again.
"So everyone knew except me?""
"Not everyone.""
Margaret placed a final photograph in my hand.
It showed my mother standing beside a younger version of Margaret in front of a building.
Above the entrance was a sign:
*CLAIRE CARTER DESIGN HOUSE.*
"Your mother didn't just leave you a collection," Margaret said.
"She left you a business. A future.""
I swallowed.
"Why are you crying?""
Margaret wiped her cheek.
"Because Claire told me something the last time we spoke. She said that one day, if you ever stood in front of people who tried to make you feel small, I should remind you of something.""
"What?""
Margaret squeezed my hand.
"She said, 'Emily doesn't need my name to become a designer. She only needs someone to let her use her own.''"
I couldn't hold back my tears.
For six years, I'd thought my mother's work had ended when she died.
Now I understood that she'd been protecting something for me.
A loudspeaker crackled.
"All finalists, please report to the backstage area. The first presentation will begin in five minutes.""
Margaret slipped the original trust agreement back into the envelope.
"There's one more thing you need to know.""
I looked at her.
"Your mother recorded a private message for you. It was sealed with the original trust documents.""
"Where is it?""
Margaret glanced toward Vanessa.
"At the design studio. And I suspect Vanessa has been searching for it.""
Before I could ask another question, a woman's voice interrupted us.
"Emily, darling.""
Vanessa stood behind Margaret.
Her smile was polished, but her eyes were furious.
"I see you've found Margaret.""
I stepped away from her.
"Did you know Mom left me the studio?""
Vanessa laughed.
"Your mother left behind a lot of fantasies.""
Margaret held up the trust agreement.
"She left behind legally binding documents.""
Vanessa's smile disappeared.
Then she looked at the envelope in my hand.
"Give me that.""
"No.""
She stepped forward.
"Emily, you have no idea what you're holding.""
I looked directly at her.
"Actually, I think I'm finally beginning to understand.""
Vanessa's phone rang.
She glanced at the screen.
When she answered, I heard a man's angry voice through the speaker.
"Vanessa, we have a problem. The original sale agreement has surfaced.""
Her face went white.
May you like
And then he said something that made her drop the phone.
"Your daughter just confessed everything to the wrong person.""
