Chapter 4: What My Mother Left Behind
The entire auditorium was staring at my father.
He stood three rows behind Vanessa, his hands gripping the back of the chair in front of him. He looked smaller than I'd ever seen him.
Elise Monroe held the sealed envelope against her chest.
"Marcus, I gave you six years to tell your daughter the truth.""
My father swallowed.
"Elise, this isn't the place.""
"You're right. It isn't. But you made it everyone's business when you submitted fraudulent paperwork to this competition.""
Vanessa stepped forward.
"That's a ridiculous accusation. You don't know what happened in our family.""
Elise turned toward her.
"I knew Danielle long before you entered this family, Mrs. Carter. And I know exactly what she wanted for her daughter.""
The competition director approached the stage.
"Ms. Monroe, should we suspend the event?""
"Temporarily," Elise replied.
"And I want the legal representative for the Danielle Carter Design Trust contacted immediately.""
My head snapped toward her.
"The what?""
Elise looked at me gently.
"Your mother left you something, Nia. Something she worked very hard to protect.""
My father moved toward the stage.
"Elise, please. Don't do this in front of everyone.""
I stared at him.
"Why? What are you afraid I'll find out?""
He didn't answer.
The director led us into a private conference room behind the main auditorium. Maya came with me. Vanessa followed, pulling Brianna by the wrist.
The door closed.
For the first time that morning, there were no cameras.
Only us.
Elise placed the envelope on the table and carefully broke the seal.
Inside were several legal documents, a photograph, and a handwritten letter.
She lifted the photograph first.
It showed my mother standing in a beautiful design studio, wearing a white blouse with rolled-up sleeves. Beside her stood a younger Elise. Both women were laughing, and between them was a mannequin dressed in a spectacular red gown.
"Your mother and I met at a design competition twenty years ago," Elise began.
"We became business partners. We created a small fashion label, and our first collection became far more successful than either of us expected.""
I stared at the photograph.
"Mom never told me.""
"She left the industry when you were young. She wanted to raise you without the pressure of the fashion world.""
Elise placed another photograph beside the first.
"This was our final collection together. Danielle designed the butterfly series. Those wings on your gown came from her original concept.""
I looked down.
My mother's handwriting appeared beneath the picture.
For Nia, when she's ready to fly.
My throat tightened.
Elise opened the letter.
"Danielle established a trust for you using the royalties from her designs and the money she earned from selling her share of our company.""
I looked up.
"A trust?""
"Yes. It was intended to pay for your education, support your first collection, and give you the freedom to build your own career.""
"How much money?""
Elise hesitated.
"That depends on what remains.""
My father suddenly pulled out a chair.
"Nia, you need to understand something. Your mother wasn't good with money toward the end. I managed everything.""
Elise didn't look away from the paperwork.
"That's why Danielle appointed an independent trustee.""
She slid a document toward me.
My name appeared in bold letters.
*BENEFICIARY: NIA DANIELLE CARTER.*
Underneath it, another section identified my father as the original custodian, with strict restrictions on how the funds could be used.
I read the document twice.
"What does this mean?""
Elise answered quietly.
"It means your father was allowed to manage the account for your benefit. He was not allowed to use it as his personal bank account.""
Vanessa crossed her arms.
"Marcus paid for everything in that house. Food, clothes, school supplies. All of it benefited Nia.""
"That's not how a trust works," Elise replied.
My father rubbed his face.
"I paid for her education. I provided a home. Do you have any idea how expensive raising a child is?""
I felt my hands shaking.
"You told me we couldn't afford design school.""
He looked at me.
"Nia—"
"You told me to get a job at the bakery because we didn't have money for my future.""
Vanessa interrupted.
"And you had a roof over your head, didn't you?""
Maya stood up.
"Maybe you should let Nia finish.""
Vanessa pointed at her.
"This has nothing to do with you.""
"It became my business when your daughter destroyed her dress and you helped her steal another.""
Brianna rolled her eyes.
"Can everyone stop acting like I'm some criminal?""
Elise placed the photographs back inside the envelope.
"Your name isn't the only issue here, Brianna. The competition received two applications containing designs that don't belong to you.""
Brianna's expression changed.
"That's not true.""
Elise turned to the director.
"Please retrieve the original application and every supporting document submitted with it. Nothing is to be removed or altered.""
The director nodded and left.
My father leaned toward me.
"Sweetheart, we can discuss this privately. I'll explain everything at home.""
I pulled away.
"You've had six years.""
He lowered his voice.
"I made mistakes.""
"How much money?""
He looked down.
"Marcus," Elise warned, "don't lie to her again.""
My father slowly looked up.
Before he could speak, the conference room door opened.
The competition director returned holding a thick folder.
He placed it on the table.
"There's something else," he said.
"A document was uploaded with Brianna's application that our legal team couldn't verify.""
Elise opened the folder.
Her eyes moved across the page.
Then she stopped.
"What is this?""
Vanessa took one step backward.
I leaned forward.
"Elise?""
She turned the document toward me.
It was a bank authorization.
My mother's trust account.
And beneath the withdrawal amount were two signatures.
Marcus Carter.
Vanessa Carter.
Elise looked at my father.
"Two hundred and forty thousand dollars, Marcus. Where did the money go?""
My father covered his face.
May you like
And Vanessa whispered something that made my blood run cold.
"Don't tell her about the house.""
