Chapter 10: My Mother's Hidden Masterpiece
I couldn't stop staring at the photograph.
The woman standing beside the butterfly gown was unmistakably my mother.
She looked younger than I remembered, with long dark hair tied behind her neck and a measuring tape draped over her shoulder.
Behind her stood a dress form displaying a midnight-blue gown with enormous butterfly wings.
My gown.
Almost exactly.
I looked at Evelyn.
"How long have you known about this?""
Evelyn lowered her eyes.
"Since the photograph was submitted.""
"Who submitted it?""
She hesitated.
"Your father.""
I turned toward Richard.
He didn't deny it.
Instead, he walked toward the conference table and placed both hands on its surface.
"There's something everyone needs to understand. Your mother created that design before Daniel's collection was completed. She and Daniel worked together.""
Grandma looked furious.
"Then why didn't you tell Nia?""
"Because it wasn't finished.""
I pointed at the photograph.
"Then why does it look finished?""
My father sighed.
"Because your mother abandoned the project.""
I felt my throat tighten.
"Why?""
"She had other responsibilities.""
"Like raising me?""
He looked away.
"Yes.""
I stared at him.
"You always told me she never cared about fashion.""
"I said she had other priorities.""
"No. You told me she wasn't serious about designing.""
My father rubbed his forehead.
"This conversation is going nowhere.""
Elise intervened.
"Actually, Richard, it is going somewhere. If the photograph is authentic, we need to establish ownership before evaluating Nia's entry.""
She turned toward Evelyn.
"Do you have the original construction records?""
Evelyn nodded slowly.
"Some of them.""
"Where?""
"At my workshop.""
Elise looked at the competition chairman.
"We need to verify these documents immediately.""
Thomas Reed nodded.
"Until then, neither entry will receive a final ownership determination.""
I felt my stomach drop.
"Does that mean I can't compete?""
Thomas considered his answer.
"You may walk the runway, but the scholarship decision will remain pending.""
Maya squeezed my hand.
"At least they're not removing you.""
But I wasn't thinking about the runway anymore.
I was thinking about my mother.
About the photograph.
About all the years I'd spent sewing scraps of fabric beside her old sewing machine, believing I had inherited nothing more than a hobby.
"Grandma," I whispered, "did Mom ever talk about this dress?""
She nodded.
"She used to call it the Midnight Monarch.""
I closed my eyes.
That was the name I'd written on my sketchbook cover six months earlier.
Without knowing why.
Grandma continued.
"Your mother wanted to finish it for Daniel. But after he died, she discovered someone had taken several of his original patterns.""
I looked at my father.
He became very still.
"Who took them?"" I asked.
Grandma didn't answer immediately.
Then she said:
"Richard.""
The room went silent.
My father stood straight.
"That's an outrageous accusation.""
"You took the leather portfolio from Daniel's apartment. Your mother and I both knew.""
"I was protecting the family.""
"You were protecting yourself.""
My father turned toward Elise.
"Are we really going to entertain this?""
Elise remained calm.
"We are going to examine every document.""
My phone vibrated.
Another unknown message.
*Your mother didn't abandon the Midnight Monarch. She was forced to leave it unfinished. Ask Richard what happened the night before her accident.*
I read it twice.
My hands began trembling.
My mother had died in a car accident when I was eight.
I'd always been told it happened during a rainy evening while she was driving home from a hospital appointment.
There had never been anything suspicious about it.
At least, that's what I'd believed.
I showed the message to Grandma.
Her face changed.
"Nia, don't listen to anonymous messages.""
"Grandma, what happened that night?""
She looked toward my father.
Richard's jaw tightened.
"That's enough.""
I stepped toward him.
"What happened?""
He raised his voice.
"Your mother was tired. She lost control of the car. That's all.""
"Then why is someone telling me to ask you about it?""
"Because people enjoy creating drama.""
Elise moved closer.
"Richard, perhaps you should stop answering questions with anger.""
He turned on her.
"You have no right to interrogate me.""
She held his gaze.
"I have every right to investigate a potential case of design theft.""
Then she turned toward me.
"Nia, I suggest you speak with your grandmother privately. There are things about your mother's work that may help establish the history of this design.""
I nodded.
Grandma took my hand.
"We're going to my house.""
As we left the convention center, I looked back once.
My father was standing beside Vanessa.
Brianna was sitting alone.
For the first time, nobody was looking at her.
Nobody was congratulating her.
Nobody was telling her she was special.
And my father was watching me leave with an expression I couldn't understand.
It wasn't anger.
It was fear.
May you like
Because he knew what Grandma was about to show me.
And whatever was hidden in that old house had been kept secret for twenty-three years.
