Chapter 5: My Father's Signature
I stared at the photograph until the letters blurred.
Richard Carter.
My father's signature.
It was unmistakable.
The same slanted R.
The same long underline.
The same small loop at the end of his surname.
He had signed the document.
The licensing agreement.
I slowly raised my eyes.
"Dad?""
He looked at me.
"What?""
I held up my phone.
"Did you sign this?""
Vanessa moved immediately.
"Richard, don't let her manipulate you.""
But he was already staring at the screen.
His face changed.
"Where did you get that?""
"Margaret sent it.""
He reached for my phone.
I pulled it away.
"Did you sign it?""
He looked at Vanessa.
She looked back at him.
Neither answered.
I felt something break inside my chest.
"How long have you known?""
My father lowered his head.
"Nia, it's complicated.""
"How long?""
He exhaled.
"About four months.""
Four months.
Four months ago, I had started working on my graduation dress.
Four months ago, Brianna had started asking strange questions about my mother's sewing machine.
Four months ago, Vanessa had suddenly become interested in my school projects.
And my father had known about the agreement.
I took a step backward.
"You knew.""
He rubbed his forehead.
"I thought it was a temporary arrangement.""
"What arrangement?""
"Vanessa told me there was an opportunity to preserve your mother's collection and make it profitable.""
"Without asking me?""
"You were still seventeen.""
"But the trust protected the collection until I turned eighteen!""
My father stared at me.
"How do you know that?""
"Because I finally spoke to someone who actually worked with Mom.""
Vanessa laughed sharply.
"Margaret has always been jealous of this family.""
I turned toward her.
"She showed me the estate documents.""
"Those documents are outdated.""
"Then why don't you show us the updated ones?""
Vanessa went quiet.
My father looked at her.
"Vanessa?""
She adjusted her blouse.
"I don't have to explain every business decision to a child.""
"She's not a child anymore," he said.
It was the first time I had heard him defend me that day.
But it wasn't enough.
I placed my phone on the coffee table.
"Read the agreement.""
My father picked it up.
His eyes moved across the screen.
Then he stopped.
"What is this clause?""
I leaned closer.
"Which one?""
He enlarged the document.
The fourth page contained a section titled:
*TRANSFER OF COMMERCIAL RIGHTS AND EXCLUSIVE DESIGN CONTROL.*
It stated that the signer had authorized Northstar Fashion Group to acquire the rights to Elena Carter's final collection.
But there was another section.
One that transferred control of the collection's original sketches, patterns, and unpublished designs to the purchaser.
My father's face turned pale.
"Vanessa, you told me this was only a temporary licensing arrangement.""
"It is.""
"No, it isn't.""
She stood.
"Richard, don't be ridiculous.""
He scrolled further.
Then his voice became very quiet.
"There's a payment.""
I looked at the screen.
A figure appeared near the bottom.
$850,000.
My knees weakened.
Eight hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
That was the amount Northstar had agreed to pay for the exclusive rights.
But the money wasn't going to my mother's estate.
It was being transferred into a private company.
Carter Creative Holdings.
I looked up.
"Whose company is that?""
Vanessa didn't answer.
My father looked at her.
"Whose company is it?""
She crossed her arms.
"It's a legitimate business.""
"Whose?""
After several seconds, she finally said:
"Mine.""
Silence swallowed the room.
My father stared at her.
"You created a company to receive the money?""
"I was managing the negotiations.""
"You told me the payment would go into the estate.""
"It would have eventually.""
"Eventually?""
Vanessa's voice rose.
"Do you have any idea how much work I've put into this family?""
My father stepped away from her.
"That money belongs to Nia's trust.""
"She doesn't know anything about business!""
"That's not your decision.""
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
"Of course. Now you're suddenly interested in protecting her.""
I stared at my father.
"Did you know she was taking the money?""
He didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
My chest tightened.
"How could you?""
He looked at me.
"I thought I was doing what was best for everyone.""
"Everyone except me.""
He flinched.
Brianna suddenly stepped forward.
"Can we stop pretending this is some huge crime?""
I turned toward her.
She grabbed the white designer gown hanging over the sofa.
"Mom worked hard to make this opportunity happen. You should be grateful.""
I stared at her.
"You knew?""
Brianna shrugged.
"Of course I knew.""
"How long?""
"Since the beginning.""
My throat tightened.
"Did you know she was planning to use my design?""
Brianna smiled.
"I thought it was obvious.""
I felt sick.
She wasn't even pretending anymore.
"You stole my sketch.""
"I borrowed it.""
"You submitted it to the school.""
"Because I wanted people to see the truth.""
"What truth?""
"That you have nothing original.""
She stepped closer.
"Mom and I have been working on this for months. You're just the girl who plays with fabric in her bedroom.""
I looked at my father.
He stood motionless.
"Brianna," he said quietly.
"Go upstairs.""
She rolled her eyes.
"Why? Because she's crying?""
"Go upstairs.""
Brianna threw the gown onto the sofa.
"Fine. But don't expect me to apologize.""
She stormed away.
Vanessa followed her.
At the doorway, she turned back.
"Richard, we need to talk.""
He didn't move.
She looked at me.
"And you should think very carefully before making accusations you cannot take back.""
Then she disappeared.
My father and I were alone.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he sat down heavily.
"Nia, I made a mistake.""
I stared at him.
"You signed away my mother's work.""
"I didn't understand the full agreement.""
"Did you read it?""
He lowered his head.
"No.""
I laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
Because I couldn't believe him.
"You signed a legal document worth almost a million dollars without reading it?""
"I trusted Vanessa.""
"And you didn't trust me enough to ask what I wanted?""
He looked up.
His eyes were wet.
"I'm sorry.""
I wanted to believe him.
I really did.
But apologies didn't put three months of work back together.
They didn't erase the graduation email.
They didn't explain why my mother's portfolio had been hidden.
And they certainly didn't make the signature disappear.
I picked up my phone.
"I'm calling Margaret.""
My father stood.
"Wait.""
I looked at him.
"What?""
"There's something I need to tell you.""
He walked toward the fireplace and opened a small drawer.
Inside was an old photograph.
My mother and me.
I was about six, sitting on her lap while she held a piece of turquoise fabric.
On the back, she had written:
For Richard. Remember what we promised her.
I stared at the words.
"What promise?""
My father swallowed.
"Your mother made me promise that her collection would belong to you when you turned eighteen.""
My throat tightened.
"Then why did you sign?""
He looked away.
"Because Vanessa told me the collection was incomplete.""
I frowned.
"What does that mean?""
"She said the original designs were missing important documentation. She convinced me the rights would be difficult to protect unless we transferred them to a larger company.""
I shook my head.
"Margaret showed me the registration records. Everything is documented.""
My father closed his eyes.
"Then I was wrong.""
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I asked the question that had been sitting in my mind since I saw his signature.
"Why did Mom hide the final design?""
He looked at me.
"What final design?""
"The Phoenix Dress.""
His expression changed.
He slowly sat down again.
"She didn't hide it.""
I frowned.
"What?""
"She gave it to you.""
I stopped breathing.
"That's impossible.""
"Before she died, she asked me to put it somewhere safe. She said you would find it when you were ready.""
I looked toward the sewing room.
"The sketch beneath my table?""
He nodded.
"Your mother used to say you would understand the design one day.""
My eyes filled.
"Then why didn't you tell me?""
He covered his face.
"Because every time I saw you working with fabric, I remembered her. And I was afraid of losing you the way I lost her.""
I stood there, struggling to understand.
For years, I had thought my father simply didn't care about my dreams.
But perhaps he had been grieving so deeply that he had allowed someone else to decide what happened in our home.
It didn't excuse what he had done.
But it explained something.
I looked at the photograph again.
"Did Mom know Vanessa?""
My father hesitated.
"Yes.""
"Did they get along?""
He shook his head.
"Not really.""
"Why?""
He looked toward the hallway.
"Your mother discovered something about Vanessa shortly before she died.""
My heartbeat quickened.
"What?""
He opened his mouth.
But before he could answer, Vanessa returned.
This time, she was holding a large envelope.
She placed it on the table.
"Since we're discussing the past," she said, "perhaps it's time Nia learns the whole truth.""
My father stood.
"Vanessa, don't.""
She ignored him.
She pulled out a document and slid it toward me.
It was a photocopy of an old hospital record.
My mother's name appeared at the top.
But underneath it was another name.
A name I had never seen before.
And beside it was a handwritten note.
*Patient's next of kin: Brianna Carter.*
I looked up.
"What does this mean?""
Vanessa smiled.
"It means your mother knew my daughter long before you think she did.""
My father went completely pale.
May you like
And then he whispered:
"Vanessa, you promised you would never show her that.""
