Chapter 11: The Woman Who Signed the Lie
The next morning, Elise's lawyer met us at a small conference office near downtown Atlanta.
His name was Daniel Price, a silver-haired attorney with a calm voice and the unnerving habit of reading every document twice.
He spread the suspicious agreement across the table.
"This is not a final determination," he said, "but several features concern me.""
I leaned forward.
"Such as?""
"The document claims to transfer rights over future designs that had not yet been created. The wording is unusually broad, and the witness information appears connected to an archive associated with a company that no longer exists.""
Maya folded her arms.
"So Vanessa could have made it up?""
"She could have. Someone else could have. We need the original document and a qualified handwriting examination before making that claim.""
Elise sat beside me.
"And the missing designs?""
Daniel opened another folder.
"If we can establish that Lorraine Carter created them before Bellamy House used similar designs commercially, that may support a claim involving unauthorized use. However, ownership, limitation periods, and the exact history of the designs will all matter.""
I felt a familiar frustration rising.
Even with the portfolio, the photographs, and Vanessa's admission, everything seemed to lead to another locked door.
"So what can we do today?"" I asked.
Daniel looked at me.
"Preserve what you have. Do not alter the portfolio. Keep the messages and photographs. And find the person who signed this agreement as a witness.""
He tapped the final page.
"Her name is Patricia Wells.""
Elise frowned.
"Patricia worked in Bellamy House's administrative office. I remember her.""
"Do you know where she is now?"" I asked.
"Not yet," Daniel replied.
"But we can investigate.""
As the meeting ended, my phone buzzed.
A message from Brianna appeared.
Please come to the old storage office. Alone. I found something Mom doesn't know about.
Maya read it over my shoulder.
"No.""
I looked at her.
"You haven't even heard what she found.""
"She stole your gown, submitted your designs, and helped her mother hide evidence. I'm not letting you walk into an abandoned building because she sent you a mysterious text.""
Elise agreed.
"We can arrange to meet in a public place.""
I typed a reply.
Send me a photograph of what you found.
Three minutes passed.
Then an image arrived.
It showed a cardboard box filled with old files. On top lay a yellowed envelope bearing my mother's name.
The handwriting was familiar.
But beneath it was a second name.
*Patricia Wells.*
I showed the image to Elise.
Her expression changed.
"That could be important.""
We arranged to meet Brianna at the storage facility with Maya and Daniel's investigator, who agreed to accompany us.
The building sat at the edge of an industrial park, surrounded by chain-link fencing and neglected warehouses. The air smelled of wet concrete and old machinery.
Brianna waited near a rusted side door.
She wore jeans and a gray sweatshirt, with her hair pulled into a loose ponytail. When she saw us, she looked relieved and frightened at the same time.
"You came.""
Maya stayed beside me.
"We're not here to cover for you.""
"I know.""
Brianna led us inside.
The room contained metal shelves, broken office chairs, and boxes marked with faded labels. A strip of blue carpet ran beneath an old filing cabinet.
The room from the photograph.
I stared at it.
"So this is where you found the designs.""
Brianna nodded.
"Mom used to bring me here when I was younger. She said it was a storage room for old business records.""
"Why did she let you search it?""
"She didn't. I came back after she told me not to touch anything.""
She led us to the cabinet.
Inside were folders arranged by year. Some contained invoices and correspondence. Others held photographs of garments displayed at fashion exhibitions.
Brianna removed a yellow envelope.
"I found this behind the bottom drawer.""
I took it carefully.
The front read:
Lorraine Carter — Private Correspondence.
Inside were three letters.
The first was written by my mother to Patricia Wells, asking for confirmation that the original designs had been delivered to Bellamy House for evaluation.
The second was a reply from Patricia.
I read it aloud.
"Lorraine, I have reviewed the records. The documents were received, but the authorization attached to them does not match the agreement you signed. I believe someone has altered the terms.""
My hands began to tremble.
The third letter was dated two weeks later.
It was from Patricia to my father.
"Daniel, I cannot discuss this over the telephone. Vanessa has asked me to certify a transfer that Lorraine never authorized. I refused. If anything happens to the original papers, I kept a copy of the intake register.""
Elise took the letter from me and read it twice.
"This is significant.""
Brianna sat on an overturned crate.
"I didn't know any of this was here. I swear.""
I looked at her.
"Why didn't you tell me about the photograph sooner?""
She stared at her hands.
"Because I was afraid you'd hate me.""
"I already had reasons to hate you.""
She flinched.
I regretted the words immediately, but I didn't take them back.
"You hurt me, Brianna. You tried to take the one thing I had worked for. An apology doesn't make that disappear.""
"I know.""
"Then why are you helping now?""
She looked up, tears gathering in her eyes.
"Because Mom told me something last night. She said if the committee discovered where I got the designs, I would have to take responsibility for everything. She said she would deny knowing anything about the stolen pages.""
I stared at her.
"She was going to blame you.""
Brianna nodded.
"For the first time, I realized she never intended to protect me. She only wanted me to win.""
The room fell quiet.
I thought of all the times Brianna had mocked my sewing, then demanded my attention whenever Vanessa criticized her. She had spent years competing for a mother's approval that seemed to disappear whenever she stopped being useful.
It didn't excuse her choices.
But it explained why she had made them.
Elise examined the letters.
"Where is Patricia Wells now?""
Brianna shook her head.
"I don't know. But there was another file.""
She reached into the cabinet and pulled out a thin folder marked *INTAKE REGISTER — 2005*.
Inside was a photocopy of a handwritten ledger.
One entry listed the butterfly collection, the date it was received, and the name of the person who delivered it.
Vanessa Reed.
Beside the entry was a note:
Original portfolio transferred to private archive. Six pages removed by instruction of M. Bellamy.
My stomach turned.
This wasn't a misunderstanding.
It was a record of deliberate theft.
Then I noticed another line beneath it.
Witness: Patricia Wells. Copy retained at request of Daniel Carter.
I looked at Elise.
"My father knew.""
She nodded slowly.
"It appears he suspected what happened.""
I searched the folder for another document.
At the back was a business card, its edges yellowed with age.
*Patricia Wells — Archive Records Consultant.*
An address had been written on the reverse.
Not in Atlanta.
In Savannah, Georgia.
Maya pulled out her phone.
"We can contact her.""
Before anyone could respond, a loud metallic bang echoed from outside.
We all turned toward the door.
A man stood beyond the narrow window, holding a crowbar.
He looked directly at the folder in my hands.
Then he shouted, "Put the papers down!""
Elise grabbed my arm.
"Move!""
The man struck the door again.
May you like
And as the lock began to splinter, Brianna whispered the words that made my blood run cold.
"That's the man Mom said was supposed to destroy the archive.""
