Chapter 6: The Night My Mother Died
For several seconds, I couldn't form a sentence.
My father was still speaking.
"Maya? Are you there?""
I pressed the phone harder against my ear.
"You told me Mom died in a car accident.""
"She did.""
"Then why are you saying Eleanor was the last person who saw her alive?""
"Because she was.""
"Where?""
Dad exhaled shakily.
"At the atelier.""
I looked at Daniel.
He had already begun writing notes.
"Why didn't you tell the police?""
"Because there was no evidence of anything suspicious.""
"Did you see her that night?""
Silence.
"Did you, Dad?""
He finally answered.
"Yes.""
I closed my eyes.
"Then you need to tell me everything.""
"I can't do this over the phone.""
"Why not?""
"Because I don't know who is listening.""
A chill moved down my spine.
"What do you mean?""
He lowered his voice.
"Come home. Please.""
The call ended.
Daniel placed his pen on the desk.
"We're not going to your father's house without making arrangements.""
I turned toward him.
"He's saying my mother's death wasn't an accident.""
"He's also saying the evidence has disappeared.""
"Shouldn't we contact the police?""
"We should. But first, I want to know exactly what happened in that house.""
He picked up his phone.
"I'm going to arrange for an investigator to meet us.""
I stared at the closed laptop.
My mother's voice was still in my head.
No, Richard. You already did.
For fourteen years, I had mourned a woman I thought had died because of a terrible accident.
Now I was beginning to wonder whether someone had made sure she never came home.
We arrived at my father's house shortly after seven.
It was a large property in Westchester, surrounded by tall trees and a stone wall.
I had grown up there.
I knew every staircase, every hallway, and every creaking floorboard.
But that evening, the house felt unfamiliar.
A police officer stood near the entrance.
Another was speaking with a security guard.
Dad opened the front door before we could knock.
He looked older than he had that morning.
His shirt was wrinkled, and his hair was disheveled.
When he saw Daniel, his expression tightened.
"Who's this?""
"Daniel Foster. He's my attorney.""
Dad looked at me.
"Why did you bring a lawyer?""
"Because I don't know what to believe anymore.""
He stepped aside.
"Come in.""
The study had been searched.
Several drawers were open.
Books lay scattered across the carpet.
A framed photograph of my mother had been knocked from the desk.
I picked it up.
The glass was cracked across her face.
My father watched me.
"That's where they took the blueprints.""
I turned.
"Why were they here?""
"I don't know.""
"Who knew you had them?""
He hesitated.
"Eleanor.""
I stared at him.
"Where is she?""
"Upstairs.""
"Of course.""
I walked toward the staircase.
Dad caught up with me.
"Maya, wait.""
I stopped.
"Did you know Mom was afraid of her?""
He looked down.
"Your mother was under a lot of stress.""
"That's not an answer.""
He rubbed his face.
"Claire believed Eleanor was stealing from the company. She thought she was using the original designs to build Northstar.""
"Was she right?""
"Yes.""
The admission was so quiet I almost missed it.
I turned.
"Then why did you protect Eleanor?""
He looked at me.
"Because I had made a mistake.""
"What mistake?""
He swallowed.
"I borrowed money from her.""
I frowned.
"Why?""
"To keep Bennett Atelier operating. We had debts. Suppliers were threatening legal action. I thought I could repay everything once the next collection launched.""
"And Eleanor used that against you?""
"She offered to cover the shortfall. In exchange, she wanted access to the company's intellectual property.""
I stared at him.
"So you gave her access to Mom's designs.""
"Only temporarily.""
"Nothing about this sounds temporary.""
He looked away.
I felt anger rise in my chest.
"Did you know she was going to take the company?""
"I didn't think she'd go that far.""
"But she did.""
He nodded.
Then he said something that made my stomach turn.
"Your mother discovered the agreement the night she died.""
Eleanor appeared at the top of the staircase.
She wore a cream silk blouse and dark trousers.
Her expression was composed.
As though we were discussing an ordinary family disagreement.
"Maya," she said.
"I was wondering when you'd arrive.""
I looked at her.
"Where were you the night Mom died?""
Her expression didn't change.
"Excuse me?""
"Where were you?""
Dad stepped between us.
"Not now.""
I moved around him.
"Answer me.""
Eleanor descended the staircase slowly.
"I was at the atelier.""
"Why?""
"Your mother had requested a meeting.""
"About the company?""
"Yes.""
"Did you argue?""
She gave a small sigh.
"Your mother was upset. She accused me of things she didn't understand.""
"Did you threaten her?""
Eleanor's eyes hardened.
"Be very careful.""
I took a step closer.
"Did you threaten my mother?""
She looked at Dad.
"Richard, are you going to let her speak to me like this?""
He didn't respond.
Eleanor's expression changed.
"Your mother was unstable toward the end. She was convinced everyone wanted to steal from her.""
"Because you were stealing from her.""
"That's an absurd accusation.""
I pulled out my phone.
"Thomas Reed is alive.""
For the first time, Eleanor's composure broke.
Her fingers tightened around the staircase railing.
Dad stared at me.
"What?""
"Thomas is alive. He has the original financial records.""
Eleanor looked at Dad.
He looked back at her.
A silent conversation passed between them.
Then she said:
"That man is a liar.""
"He's got the recordings.""
Her face went pale.
"What recordings?""
I watched her carefully.
"The meeting where Mom confronted you.""
Eleanor recovered quickly.
"Those recordings are meaningless.""
"Then why are you frightened?""
She laughed.
But it sounded forced.
"I am not frightened of you, Maya.""
"Then you won't mind answering one more question.""
I stepped closer.
"Why did you tell the police that Mom left the atelier alone?""
Eleanor went completely still.
Dad turned toward her.
"What?""
I held her gaze.
"Thomas said he saw you leave the building after her.""
Eleanor's lips parted.
For a moment, she seemed unable to speak.
Then she said:
"Thomas wasn't there.""
I felt my pulse quicken.
"How do you know?""
She looked at Dad.
And he looked as though someone had just pulled the floor from beneath him.
Daniel interrupted.
"Perhaps we should all sit down.""
Eleanor turned toward him.
"Who are you?""
"Daniel Foster. I'm representing Maya in matters concerning the estate.""
Eleanor's face hardened.
"She doesn't need a lawyer. She's family.""
Daniel remained calm.
"That is precisely why she needs independent representation.""
Dad gestured toward the living room.
We sat.
Eleanor remained standing.
"Richard, I think we should speak privately.""
"No," I said.
She looked at me.
"This has nothing to do with you.""
"It's my mother's company.""
"It's a family business.""
"Which my mother left to me.""
Eleanor gave a cold smile.
"Your mother left you a great many things. Not all of them were as valuable as you imagine.""
Daniel opened his briefcase.
"According to the probate records, Maya is the sole beneficiary of Bennett Atelier.""
Eleanor looked at him.
"Those records are incomplete.""
"Then perhaps you can provide the missing documents.""
"I don't have them.""
Daniel placed a paper on the coffee table.
"This is the original estate inventory. It lists the company's shares and the design archive.""
Eleanor glanced at it.
Then she looked at Dad.
"Richard, tell him.""
My father stared at the carpet.
"Tell him what?"" I asked.
Eleanor took a breath.
"Your mother had already transferred some of the company's rights before she died.""
"To whom?""
"To me.""
Daniel looked up.
"Do you have documentation?""
"Yes.""
"Where?""
Eleanor hesitated.
"At my office.""
Daniel nodded.
"Then we'll request a copy.""
She looked furious.
"You're making a serious mistake.""
I met her eyes.
"No. I think I've spent fourteen years making one.""
A police officer entered the room.
"Mr. Bennett?""
Dad stood.
"Yes?""
"We've finished checking the study. There are no signs of forced entry.""
He frowned.
"What?""
The officer continued.
"The rear door was unlocked. Whoever entered appears to have had access to the property.""
I looked toward the hallway.
"Was anything else missing?""
"Only the documents from the study.""
"Which documents?""
"The blueprints, several company files, and a small storage device.""
I turned to Dad.
"What storage device?""
He hesitated.
Then Eleanor answered.
"An old recording.""
My heart began pounding.
"What recording?""
She looked at me.
"Your mother's final interview.""
The room went silent.
Daniel leaned forward.
"What interview?""
Eleanor folded her arms.
"Claire recorded a statement before she died. She wanted to explain the company's financial problems.""
I looked at Dad.
"Where was it?""
"In the study," he said quietly.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
He looked exhausted.
"Because I didn't want you involved.""
"Why?""
He didn't answer.
I stepped toward him.
"Dad, what did Mom say in that recording?""
He closed his eyes.
Then he whispered:
"She said Eleanor had threatened to destroy her.""
Eleanor slammed her hand against the coffee table.
"That's enough!""
Everyone turned.
Her face was flushed.
"That woman was paranoid. She was destroying the company, and Richard knows it.""
Dad looked at her.
"Stop.""
She stared at him.
For the first time, he didn't look away.
"Richard," she said quietly.
He shook his head.
"Stop lying.""
Her expression changed.
Then she picked up her handbag.
"I'm leaving.""
The police officer stepped forward.
"Ma'am, we need you to remain available while we complete our investigation.""
Eleanor looked at him.
"On what grounds?""
"We're documenting the unauthorized entry and missing property. We'd also like to ask you a few questions.""
She turned toward me.
"You have no idea what you've started.""
I held her gaze.
"Neither did Mom.""
Later that night, I stood alone in the old sewing room.
The room had been locked for years.
Dad finally gave me the key.
Inside, dust covered the worktables.
A few old mannequins stood against the wall.
My mother's sewing machine remained in the corner.
I ran my fingers over its wooden surface.
For a moment, I could almost hear her humming.
I opened the bottom drawer.
It contained old thread, fabric scraps, and a small leather notebook.
I recognized it immediately.
My mother's design journal.
I sat down and opened it.
The first pages contained sketches from the early years of Bennett Atelier.
Then I found a page dated two days before her death.
There was a drawing of a blue evening gown.
Beneath it, my mother had written:
The Blue Hour — Final design.
A second note appeared below.
The original must remain with Maya. No copies. No transfers. No exceptions.
I turned the page.
A small envelope had been taped to the inside cover.
My name was written across it.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
My mother stood beside a young woman.
The woman looked familiar.
Very familiar.
She had the same eyes as Eleanor.
But she was younger, perhaps twenty-five.
On the back, my mother had written:
Eleanor, before everything changed.
I stared at the photograph.
Then I noticed the date.
It was taken in 1999.
My mother had known Eleanor long before she married my father.
There was another line beneath the photograph.
She was my closest friend. I should have known what she was capable of.
I heard footsteps behind me.
Dad stood in the doorway.
His face had gone pale.
"Where did you find that?""
I held up the photograph.
"Who was Eleanor to Mom?""
He didn't answer.
I stood.
"Tell me.""
He looked at the photograph.
Then at me.
And finally, he said:
"Eleanor wasn't just your stepmother's name.""
I frowned.
"What does that mean?""
He swallowed.
"Before she married me, she was Eleanor Reed.""
My blood ran cold.
"Reed?""
Dad nodded.
"She was Thomas Reed's wife.""
I stared at him.
The man who had supposedly died.
The man who had hidden my mother's evidence.
The man who knew what happened the night she died.
My father took a shaky breath.
"And Maya, there's something else.""
"What?""
He looked toward the sewing machine.
"Thomas wasn't just your mother's financial director.""
He paused.
"He was your biological mother's first husband.""
I stared at him.
"That's impossible. My mother was married to you.""
Dad's eyes filled with tears.
Then he said:
May you like
"Thomas Reed is not just the man who knows what happened to your mother.""
"He is the man who knows who your real father is.""
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