Chapter 3: The Woman Who Knew My Mother
By noon, my father had ordered me to attend a family meeting.
He called it a discussion.
Vanessa called it an opportunity to clear up misunderstandings.
Brianna called it hilarious.
I called it what it was: a warning.
When I entered the downstairs sitting room, my father sat behind the coffee table with a stack of papers. Vanessa occupied the sofa beside him, while Brianna lounged in an armchair, scrolling through her phone.
The curtains were open, and sunlight illuminated the polished furniture.
Everything looked peaceful.
That was what made the scene feel so cruel.
My father gestured toward the empty chair.
“Sit down, Nia.””
I remained standing.
“What is this about?””
Vanessa folded her hands.
“Your behavior this morning.””
“My behavior?””
“You entered a restricted storage room, removed family documents, and contacted a woman we've explicitly asked you to avoid.””
I looked at my father.
“Did you know Mom had worked with Eleanor Vale?””
He shifted uncomfortably.
“Your mother knew a lot of people.””
“That isn't an answer.””
“Your mother left behind complicated matters,” Vanessa interrupted.
“We agreed years ago not to revisit them.””
I stared at her.
“Who agreed? I was a child.””
“Exactly. You were a child. Your father made decisions to protect you.””
“Then why didn't he tell me the truth?””
My father set his jaw.
“Nia, your mother and Eleanor had a falling-out. It's an old story, and I don't want it disrupting your future.””
“Eleanor said Mom left me a legacy.””
Brianna stopped scrolling.
Vanessa's fingers tightened around one another.
My father looked directly at me.
“What exactly did Eleanor tell you?””
“That Mom didn't leave me with nothing.””
He exhaled slowly.
“Your mother left you a sewing box and some personal belongings. That's what you have.””
I felt the room tilt.
“Then why did Vanessa try to take the letters?””
“I was preventing you from making a mistake,” Vanessa replied.
“You tore one of them!””
“Because you wouldn't let go.””
“You grabbed it first!””
My father raised his voice.
“Enough!””
The word silenced the room.
He rubbed his temples.
“I have spent years trying to keep this household stable. I will not have old disputes tearing us apart two days before your graduation.””
I stared at him.
“Someone burned my dress, Dad.””
His gaze dropped.
“I know.””
“And you still haven't asked Brianna whether she did it.””
Brianna immediately sat upright.
“Because I didn't!””
I looked at her.
“You were holding the lighter-fluid container.””
“I was checking the dress.””
“With lighter fluid?””
She pressed a hand to her chest.
“Why are you obsessed with making me look evil?””
“Because you destroyed something that mattered to me.””
“Maybe if you stopped acting like every little thing you do is a masterpiece, people wouldn't resent you.””
Vanessa touched Brianna's arm.
“Darling, don't engage.””
Then she turned toward my father.
“Richard, I think we should focus on the practical issue. Nia needs a graduation outfit. We can give her money to purchase something appropriate.””
My father nodded.
“Fine. I'll transfer five hundred dollars.””
I stared at him.
“Five hundred dollars?””
“It's enough for a nice dress.””
“The gown I designed was worth more than that in materials.””
“Then perhaps you should have insured it.””
I couldn't believe he had said that.
“You think I should have insured a dress I made in my bedroom?””
“I think we should stop arguing about what cannot be changed.””
I looked at the papers on the coffee table.
“What are those?””
Vanessa moved them toward my father.
“Administrative documents. Nothing you need to worry about.””
I recognized my name on the first page.
NIA GRACE MILLER.
Below it was a paragraph of legal language, followed by a signature line.
“What am I supposed to sign?””
My father hesitated.
“It's a standard acknowledgment that your personal belongings are being managed by the household until you turn eighteen.””
I stepped closer.
“Why does it mention financial assets?””
Vanessa's expression remained composed.
“Because it's a comprehensive document.””
“Then I want to read it.””
My father pushed the papers toward me.
“Of course.””
I picked them up.
The first page referred to personal property.
The second mentioned a trust.
The third included a section about transferring authority over certain inherited assets to a designated guardian.
My name appeared repeatedly.
So did my father's.
And Vanessa's.
I looked up.
“Why does this say I'm relinquishing my right to challenge decisions made on my behalf?””
Vanessa smiled thinly.
“It's standard legal language.””
“Then why do you need my signature?””
My father reached for the papers.
“Give them back. We'll have a lawyer explain everything.””
“No.””
The word surprised all three of them.
I held the documents against my chest.
“I'm not signing anything until I speak with an independent attorney.””
Vanessa's expression turned icy.
“Who do you think you are?””
“Someone whose name is on a legal document.””
Brianna laughed.
“Listen to her. One phone call with a stranger, and suddenly she's a lawyer.””
I turned toward her.
“Did you know about these papers?””
Her smile disappeared.
“No.””
“Then why are you so worried about what Eleanor might tell me?””
“I'm not worried!””
“Then let me call her.””
Vanessa stood.
“This meeting is over.””
My father looked exhausted.
“Nia, please. Don't turn this into a war.””
I stared at him.
“I'm not the one who burned my dress.””
For a moment, he looked as if he might finally say something meaningful.
Instead, he took the papers from my hands.
“Go upstairs. We'll discuss this after graduation.””
I left without another word.
In my bedroom, I locked the door and called Eleanor again.
She answered immediately.
“Are you alone?””
“Yes.””
“Did they ask you to sign anything?””
My stomach tightened.
“How did you know?””
“Because they've been waiting for this moment.””
I sat on the edge of my bed.
“Who are they, Eleanor? What did my mother leave me?””
There was a long pause.
Then she said, “Your mother was not merely a talented seamstress. She was my daughter, my business partner, and the co-creator of Vale Atelier.””
I closed my eyes.
“I read the letter.””
“Then you know she left because she wanted a different life. What you may not know is that she never surrendered her ownership in the company.””
I sat up straight.
“What?””
“Your mother held a substantial share in Vale Atelier. When she died, those shares passed into a protected trust established for you.””
I stared at the wall.
“How much?””
“Forty percent.””
The number seemed impossible.
Forty percent.
Of one of the most prestigious fashion houses in the country.
“Why didn't Dad tell me?””
“Because your father wasn't the beneficiary.””
My throat tightened.
“Then who controls the trust?””
“An independent trustee. Your father was appointed to manage certain personal affairs while you were a minor, but he was never entitled to transfer the shares to himself.””
I remembered the documents on the coffee table.
The language about inherited assets.
The signature line.
“What would happen if I signed?””
“If the documents I suspect they prepared are what I think they are, you could surrender important rights or authorize changes you don't understand. I need a lawyer to review them before I can say precisely what they intended.””
My fingers went cold.
“Why would my father do that?””
“Your father has business interests that have suffered significant losses. I cannot tell you what he plans to do without seeing those papers, but I can tell you this: your mother's shares are valuable, and people have been asking questions about them for years.””
I thought of Vanessa's face when she saw the photograph.
Her sudden fear.
Her warning.
“Does Vanessa know?””
“Vanessa knows enough to be dangerous.””
I stood and paced across the room.
“And Brianna?””
“I don't know what she knows. But if your stepmother has involved her, you should be cautious.””
I stopped beside the burned gown.
“What am I supposed to do?””
“First, do not sign anything. Second, preserve every document your mother left you. Third, meet me tomorrow morning.””
“Where?””
“At Vale Atelier. I'll send a car.””
I swallowed.
“Why can't I just come myself?””
“Because I want you to arrive safely, and because there are people who would prefer you never enter that building.””
The call ended shortly afterward.
I remained standing, my phone pressed against my ear.
Forty percent.
My mother had never told me about the trust. Perhaps she'd wanted to protect me from the business world. Perhaps she'd believed there would always be time to explain.
But time had run out.
Someone had burned my dress, tried to take my mother's papers, and placed legal documents in front of me that I hadn't understood.
Now I needed to know whether those actions were connected.
At 4:15 p.m., I heard a knock.
“Come in,” I called.
My father entered alone.
He looked older than he had that morning. His tie was gone, and his shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows.
He glanced at the ruined gown.
“I spoke to Vanessa.””
I waited.
“She says Brianna was careless. She didn't mean for the dress to burn.””
I felt a bitter laugh rise in my throat.
“Did she tell you that Brianna was holding lighter fluid?””
He looked away.
“I don't know exactly what happened.””
“You could ask her.””
“I have.””
“And?””
“She says it was an accident.””
I turned toward the window.
“So that's it?””
He sighed.
“Nia, I'm trying to keep this family together.””
“Why does keeping this family together always mean pretending nothing happened to me?””
He didn't answer.
I faced him.
“Did you know Mom owned shares in Vale Atelier?””
The color drained from his face.
For several seconds, he simply stared at me.
Then he closed the bedroom door.
“Who told you that?””
“Eleanor.””
He sat down slowly.
“You shouldn't have contacted her.””
“Why?””
“Because she has always hated me.””
“That doesn't answer my question.””
He rubbed his face.
“Your mother made arrangements before she died. I agreed to manage your affairs until you were old enough to make your own decisions.””
“Then why did you ask me to sign those papers?””
His eyes flicked toward the desk.
“Because there are complications.””
“What complications?””
He stood abruptly.
“I will not discuss business matters with you when you're upset.””
“I'm not upset. I'm asking questions.””
“Enough, Nia.””
He walked toward the door.
I followed him.
“Dad, did you try to transfer my mother's shares?””
He stopped.
His hand rested on the doorknob.
For one terrible moment, I thought he might tell me the truth.
Then he turned around.
“Your mother made mistakes, sweetheart. Eleanor filled her head with ideas about money and power. I tried to protect her from that world.””
“My mother is dead. You don't get to use her to avoid answering me.””
His face hardened.
“You have no idea what I've sacrificed for you.””
“Then explain it.””
He opened the door.
“Stay away from Eleanor until after graduation.””
“Why?””
“Because I am your father, and I'm telling you to.””
He left.
I stood in the doorway, shaking with anger.
A moment later, my phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
The message contained a photograph of the legal papers from the sitting room.
Someone had taken the picture while they were on the coffee table.
Below it was a single sentence.
*Your father isn't the only one trying to take your inheritance.*
A second message arrived before I could respond.
*Ask Vanessa what happened to the original trust agreement.*
I stared at the screen.
Then a final message appeared.
*And ask why she was at the hospital the night your mother died.*
My breath caught.
My mother had died after a sudden medical emergency when I was twelve.
Vanessa had always said she never visited the hospital because she was too busy arranging the funeral.
My father had confirmed that story.
I had never questioned it.
Now someone was telling me Vanessa had been there.
I typed a reply.
Who is this?
The response came almost instantly.
*Someone who knows your mother's death was not the only secret your family buried.*
I read the words again.
Then my phone rang.
Eleanor's name appeared on the screen.
I answered.
“Nia,” she said, her voice unusually urgent.
“I need you to listen carefully. I just received confirmation that someone has accessed your mother's trust records.””
“Who?””
“I don't know yet.””
“Someone sent me a message about Vanessa being at the hospital when Mom died.””
Eleanor fell silent.
“Eleanor?””
When she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Then we may have much less time than I thought.””
I gripped the phone.
“What are you not telling me?””
She drew a shaky breath.
“Your mother didn't die without leaving evidence, Nia.””
My heart pounded.
“What evidence?””
“Something she gave me the night before she died.””
I pressed the phone against my ear.
“What was it?””
May you like
Eleanor answered with five words.
“A recording of your stepmother.””
