Chapter 5: The Price of My Father's Betrayal
The judges' office was on the second floor of the convention center.
Elise led me inside while an assistant carried my portfolio.
Maya arrived moments later, breathless from running through the lobby.
"Nia! I saw the crowd downstairs. What happened?""
I quickly explained everything.
Maya's expression hardened.
"Your father actually signed the transfer?""
"Yes.""
"Unbelievable.""
Elise gestured toward two chairs.
"Please sit.""
She placed my sketches on a large conference table.
Then she removed her glasses.
"Nia, I need to explain something about that butterfly pattern.""
I leaned forward.
"Okay.""
"Six months ago, my fashion house hosted a private student research program. We invited twelve young designers to submit experimental construction concepts.""
My stomach tightened.
"Was Brianna part of that program?""
Elise shook her head.
"No. But one of the participants submitted a butterfly-wing structure that caught my attention. We later discovered that the design had been copied from an older internal archive.""
She opened her portfolio.
Inside was a photograph of an intricate butterfly pattern.
I stared at it.
The shape was familiar.
Not because I'd seen the photograph before.
Because I'd drawn something similar.
Elise continued.
"The original archive belonged to a designer named Daniel Carter.""
My breath stopped.
"Daniel Carter?""
"Yes. He worked with our studio almost twenty years ago.""
I looked at her.
"My father's brother?""
Elise nodded.
"Your uncle.""
I couldn't move.
My father had never spoken about his brother.
Not once.
I'd only heard his name mentioned by my grandmother when I was little.
Daniel Carter had been a fashion designer who died in a car accident before I was born.
My father always described him as irresponsible.
A man who had wasted his life chasing impossible dreams.
But Elise was telling me something different.
"Your uncle created a series of experimental butterfly constructions," she explained.
"He never completed the collection. Some of his work remained in our private archive.""
I looked at the photograph again.
The wings had the same curved structure as mine.
But there was something else.
A small pattern near the lower edge.
Three overlapping butterflies.
I reached into my portfolio and removed my original sketch.
The same three butterflies were there.
Elise noticed.
"Where did you get that detail?""
"I don't know. It just felt right when I was drawing it.""
She leaned closer.
"That's not a random detail, Nia.""
She opened another folder.
Inside was an old photograph of a young man standing beside a dress form.
He had dark hair, a broad smile, and a measuring tape around his neck.
I recognized him immediately from the few family photographs I'd seen at my grandmother's house.
Uncle Daniel.
On the back of the photograph was a handwritten note.
For the girl who will finish what I started.
My throat tightened.
"Why do you have this?""
Elise looked at me carefully.
"Your uncle left this photograph with our studio. He told us he hoped someone in his family would eventually discover his work.""
I stared at the handwriting.
"Did he have a daughter?""
"No.""
"Then who was the girl?""
Elise didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she opened another document.
It was a letter.
The paper was yellowed, and the edges had begun to curl.
She placed it in front of me.
The first line read:
To my future niece,
My eyes filled with tears.
I began reading.
Daniel had written about his love of fashion, his struggles with his family, and his belief that creativity was something that couldn't be inherited through money or status.
Near the end, one sentence stood out.
If you ever find yourself making something beautiful while the people around you tell you that your dreams are foolish, remember this: I was once told the same thing.
I covered my mouth.
Maya reached for my hand.
Elise waited until I finished.
"Your grandmother sent us this letter after Daniel died. We kept it with his archive.""
I looked up.
"Does my father know?""
Elise's expression changed.
"Yes.""
A cold feeling spread through my chest.
"What?""
"Richard visited our studio three months ago. He asked whether Daniel's unfinished designs had any commercial value.""
I stared at her.
"Why would he do that?""
"He wanted to know whether the archive could be sold.""
My father had never mentioned the visit.
Elise continued.
"We declined. Those designs were part of our historical collection, and the rights were never transferred.""
I thought about the forged application.
The stolen dress.
The strange butterfly pattern.
Suddenly, the pieces seemed connected.
"Did my father submit Brianna's dress to your studio?""
Elise nodded.
"Two weeks ago, someone sent us photographs of the gown. The sender claimed it was a new design by a promising young student.""
"Who sent them?""
Elise opened the email printout.
The sender's name was Richard Carter.
I felt sick.
My father hadn't simply allowed Brianna to steal my design.
He had actively promoted it.
And he'd used my uncle's connection to make it look valuable.
Maya leaned forward.
"So what happens now?""
Elise closed the folder.
"Now we determine who created the gown and whether any protected design elements were copied.""
She looked directly at me.
"But there's another matter.""
"What?""
"The scholarship committee has received a request to transfer the winning award to Brianna Carter.""
I already knew that.
Elise continued.
"The request includes a signed financial agreement.""
My hands went cold.
"What financial agreement?""
She slid a document across the table.
At the bottom was my father's signature.
Above it was a clause stating that, if Brianna won, a portion of the scholarship funds would be paid directly to a company called Carter Creative Holdings.
I recognized the company name.
It belonged to my father.
Maya whispered, "He was planning to take the money.""
Elise nodded.
"That is what the document appears to suggest.""
I stared at the paper.
My father hadn't betrayed me because he believed Brianna deserved the opportunity.
He had turned my dream into a business transaction.
And he'd expected me to stay silent.
Then Elise asked the question I hadn't considered.
"Nia, does your grandmother know what your father has been doing with Daniel's designs?""
I shook my head.
"I don't think so.""
Elise looked toward the window.
"Then I suggest you call her.""
I pulled out my phone.
There was one unread message from an unknown number.
It contained a photograph.
My original butterfly sketch.
May you like
And beneath it, a sentence:
*YOUR FATHER ISN'T THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS WHERE DANIEL HID THE ORIGINAL PATTERN.*
