Chapter 6: The Man Who Signed the Contract
I read Vanessa's message three times.
Then I showed it to Rebecca.
Her expression hardened.
“This has gone beyond a competition.””
“I know.””
“I'm going to have security document the message. And I want you to contact your father again, preferably with someone present.””
I nodded, but my hands were already moving.
I called him.
Straight to voicemail.
I called again.
Nothing.
My father had always answered my calls, even when he was halfway across a construction site with a hard hat on and machinery roaring behind him. If he couldn't speak, he'd send a quick message promising to call back.
This time, there was nothing.
I opened Vanessa's message again.
If you want your father to survive what you uncover, stop asking questions.
My stomach twisted.
“Rebecca, I need to find him.””
“Emily, we don't know whether this is a threat or an attempt to frighten you. Don't leave the venue alone.””
“I won't. But I need to know where he is.””
I called his construction company and asked for the site supervisor. After several transfers, a man named Marcus Reed answered.
“Daniel's daughter?”” he asked when I explained who I was.
“Yes. Have you seen my father today?””
Marcus hesitated.
“He left the site around ten this morning.””
“Where did he go?””
“He said he had to handle something personal.””
“Did he say when he'd be back?””
“No. Emily, is everything okay?””
I swallowed.
“I don't know.””
Marcus lowered his voice.
“Your father seemed worried this morning. He asked me to keep his truck parked inside the gate and not let anyone take it without checking with him.””
My heart began to race.
“Did he say why?””
“No. But he left his keys in the office.””
I thanked Marcus and ended the call.
Rebecca had heard enough to understand.
“I'm contacting venue security and asking them to preserve the messages. You should not try to investigate this alone.””
“I understand.””
She looked at the sketchbook.
“Your mother trusted someone enough to hide a contract. We need to discover what it contains before anyone else gets hold of it.””
I stared at the butterfly on the cover.
“What if my father helped Vanessa steal the collection?””
“Then the evidence will matter even more.””
The words hurt because they were true.
My father had never been cruel to me. He had taught me to ride a bicycle, helped me build a cardboard fashion studio when I was nine, and once spent an entire Saturday driving across Georgia to find a specific shade of blue thread because I'd insisted the wrong color would ruin my design.
But after he married Vanessa, he'd become a man who avoided difficult conversations.
Whenever she criticized me, he told me to be patient.
Whenever Madison took something of mine, he told me not to make a big deal out of it.
And when Vanessa packed away my mother's belongings, he said it was time to move forward.
I'd believed him because I wanted to.
Now I wondered whether he had been protecting me from the truth or protecting himself from it.
A knock sounded on the conference-room door.
Patricia entered carrying a printed registration form.
“We have a problem,” she said.
Rebecca took the paper.
“What now?””
“Madison's application contains a signed declaration stating that she created the original butterfly collection without assistance from another designer.””
I stared at the form.
“That's a lie.””
“I know,” Patricia replied.
“But there's another issue. The declaration lists the collection as an adaptation of designs registered by Vanessa Walker.””
Rebecca's face grew still.
“Registered where?””
“Three years ago, through a private design registry. The academy rejected Vanessa's claim, but the private filing remains active until ownership is formally disputed.””
I felt dizzy.
Vanessa hadn't simply stolen my mother's sketches. She had created a paper trail designed to make the theft look legitimate.
“Can she legally do that?”” I asked.
“Not if the designs were already owned by your mother and transferred to you,” Rebecca said.
“But we need the original agreement and the registry's records to establish exactly what happened.””
I looked at the tracing paper.
The original contract proves who owns everything.
“Then we find the contract.””
Rebecca nodded.
“We'll arrange for a secure review of the notebook and the documents already in our possession. But first, the runway presentation must be completed. The audience is waiting, and we cannot let this turn into a public spectacle without verified evidence.””
I understood what she meant.
Madison was still scheduled to walk.
If I accused her in front of hundreds of people without the complete proof, Vanessa could turn the entire incident against me.
But I also couldn't stand backstage while Madison accepted praise for my work.
“I want to compete,” I said.
Rebecca studied me.
“Are you certain?””
“Yes.””
“Then you will walk the runway. You will not make accusations during your presentation. Afterward, the judges will hear both sides and examine the evidence.””
I nodded.
For the first time that day, someone had given me a clear path forward.
I returned backstage with the sketchbook secured in Rebecca's possession. Sophie was waiting beside my gown.
“What happened?””
“My mother left a letter. There's a contract somewhere that could prove Vanessa stole her collection.””
Sophie stared at me.
“Your family is unbelievable.””
“You have no idea.””
She helped me adjust the shoulder of my gown.
“You still have to walk.””
“I know.””
“And you still have the best dress here.””
I looked at her.
“You really think so?””
“I don't think so. I know so.””
She squeezed my hand.
Then the announcer called Madison's name.
The audience applauded as my stepsister stepped onto the runway.
I watched her through the gap in the curtains.
Under the stage lights, my original design looked breathtaking. The midnight-blue fabric shimmered, and the silver butterflies appeared to float across the bodice.
Madison walked confidently, pausing at the end of the runway while photographers captured her from every angle.
Then Rebecca approached the microphone.
“Madison Walker, thank you. Before we proceed to the next contestant, the judges have a question regarding your submission.””
Madison's smile faltered.
“Of course.””
Rebecca glanced at her notes.
“Your application states that you completed the entire design independently. Is that correct?””
“Yes,” Madison replied.
“Did you use any preexisting sketches, patterns, or embroidery templates created by another designer?””
“No.””
The answer came too quickly.
Rebecca nodded.
“Then you should have no difficulty explaining a specific feature of your gown.””
She gestured toward the bodice.
“Why are the silver butterflies arranged in a descending spiral rather than symmetrically across the neckline?””
Madison froze.
I knew the answer.
My mother had designed the spiral to represent a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, moving from darkness toward light. I'd used the same concept when I created the original gown.
Madison looked toward Vanessa in the audience.
Vanessa shook her head almost imperceptibly.
Madison swallowed.
“I thought the spiral created a sense of movement.””
“Movement toward what?”” Rebecca asked.
Madison's lips parted.
No words came out.
The auditorium grew quiet.
Rebecca continued.
“And why does the inside left seam contain the embroidered initials E.M.?””
A murmur spread through the audience.
Madison's face drained of color.
She glanced toward the curtain, where I stood holding my reconstructed gown.
Then she looked back at Rebecca.
“My mother told me the initials were part of the original design.””
“Your mother told you that?””
Madison nodded weakly.
Rebecca lowered the microphone.
“Then perhaps your mother can explain why she claimed ownership of the same collection three years ago.””
Vanessa stood abruptly.
“That's enough!””
Every head turned toward her.
Rebecca remained calm.
“Mrs. Walker, please sit down.””
“You have no right to question my daughter in front of these people!””
“I have every right to investigate a possible breach of competition rules.””
Vanessa pointed toward me.
“This is all because Emily can't accept that Madison is more talented than she is!””
I stepped out from behind the curtain.
“Then let the judges decide.””
The audience turned toward me as I walked onto the stage in my reconstructed gown.
For a moment, the two dresses stood side by side.
One pristine.
One transformed by damage.
Both carrying my mother's butterflies.
I looked directly at Madison.
“You said you designed every stitch. Tell them why the initials are mine.””
She began to cry.
“I didn't know what they meant.””
“You wore the dress.””
“I didn't know!””
“You knew enough to lie.””
Vanessa rushed toward the stage, but two security officers stopped her at the steps.
“Emily!”” she shouted.
“You have no idea what you're doing!””
I turned toward her.
“Then tell me the truth.””
Her face twisted.
“You want the truth? Fine. Your father signed the contract. He knew exactly what happened to your mother's collection.””
The audience erupted in whispers.
I felt the floor shift beneath me.
Rebecca raised her hand, demanding silence.
“Mrs. Walker, are you making a formal statement about the ownership of these designs?””
Vanessa stared at the crowd.
For a moment, I thought she would deny everything.
Instead, she smiled.
It was the same cold smile she'd worn beside the kitchen trash can that morning.
“Yes,” she said.
“And if you want to know why Elizabeth's collection disappeared, ask Daniel Miller what he agreed to in exchange for keeping his daughter.””
My heart stopped.
Rebecca's expression changed.
“What exactly are you alleging?””
Vanessa lifted her chin.
“I'm alleging that Emily's father signed away his wife's collection years ago.””
Then my phone vibrated.
An incoming call.
My father's name flashed across the screen.
I answered immediately.
“Dad?””
His voice was barely audible.
“Emily, listen to me. I'm at the old Miller studio.””
I gripped the phone.
“Why are you there?””
“Because I finally found the contract.””
A crashing sound came through the speaker.
My father gasped.
Then he whispered six words that made the blood drain from my face.
May you like
“Vanessa isn't the only one coming.””
The line went dead.
