Chapter 8: The Locked Room at Northstar Estate
The police arrived at Northstar Estate shortly after six that evening.
My father and I followed in a separate car with Rebecca, who had arranged for a lawyer to accompany the officers.
The drive took nearly an hour.
As the city lights faded behind us, the road narrowed into a dark stretch lined with bare trees. Rain began tapping against the windshield, and the sky turned the color of bruised steel.
I held my mother's sketchbook against my chest.
“Do you think Brianna is safe?”” I asked.
My father kept his eyes on the road.
“I hope so.””
“You sound like you don't believe it.””
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
“I don't know what Victor is capable of.””
“Then why did you trust him?””
He glanced at me.
“I didn't. Not in the end.””
“But you worked with him.””
“Yes.””
“And Mom did, too.””
He nodded.
“We believed he was a competent businessman. He handled contracts, arranged meetings, and managed several licensing agreements. We gave him access to documents because we trusted the company we had built.””
I looked down at the sketchbook.
“That's what people always say after something terrible happens.””
He didn't argue.
Instead, he reached across the console and squeezed my hand.
“You don't have to forgive anyone just because they made a mistake.””
I looked at him.
“Are you talking about Victor?””
“I'm talking about everyone.””
I knew what he meant.
Himself.
Vanessa.
Perhaps even Brianna.
The road curved sharply, and the estate appeared beyond a row of iron gates.
The stone house was larger than I remembered. Warm light glowed in several windows, but most of the building was dark.
Two police vehicles were parked near the entrance.
A third had blocked the driveway.
Rebecca spoke to an officer while my father helped me out of the car.
Then we heard a woman's voice from inside the house.
“You have no right to be here!””
Vanessa.
My father started toward the entrance.
I followed.
An officer stopped us at the door.
“Sir, please wait here while we secure the property.””
“My daughter may be inside.””
“We understand. We'll locate her.””
Then a crash came from the upper floor.
A moment later, Brianna appeared at the top of the staircase.
Her hair was tangled, her face streaked with tears, and she was clutching a thick bundle of papers against her chest.
“Nia!””
She ran down the stairs.
An officer stepped aside, and Brianna rushed toward me.
For one second, I didn't know what to do.
This was the girl who had broken my trophy.
The girl who had ripped my gown apart.
The girl who had spent years making me feel as though I didn't belong in my own family.
But when she reached me, she was trembling so badly that the papers slipped from her hands.
“I'm sorry,” she sobbed.
I stared at her.
“Brianna—”
“I'm so sorry.””
She grabbed my arms.
“Please don't let him take me.””
My father stepped forward.
“Who?””
Brianna looked over her shoulder.
“Victor.””
A man appeared on the landing behind her.
He wore a dark suit and carried a leather briefcase. His silver hair was neatly combed, and his face was composed in the way of someone who believed he could talk his way out of anything.
Victor Hale.
He descended the stairs slowly.
“Brianna, stop making a scene.””
She recoiled.
“Don't come near me!””
Victor looked at the officers.
“This is a private business matter. The young woman has been under considerable emotional stress.””
One officer stepped between him and Brianna.
“Sir, we need you to remain where you are.””
Victor's eyes settled on my father.
For the first time, his composure faltered.
“Adrian.””
My father stared at him.
“You should have stayed away from my family.””
Victor gave a thin smile.
“Your family? You disappeared for ten years.””
“And you profited from it.””
“That's a serious accusation.””
“Then explain the forged contracts. Explain the payments. Explain why your name appears on the records connected to my wife's death.””
Victor's expression hardened.
“You have no proof of any wrongdoing.””
Brianna suddenly raised the papers she was holding.
“I have proof!””
Everyone turned toward her.
She clutched the bundle against her chest.
“I found the original blueprints. And the letters.””
Victor took one step forward.
“Give those to me.””
“No!””
He reached for the papers.
An officer caught his arm.
“That's enough.””
Victor struggled briefly before pulling away.
“You don't understand what you're dealing with!””
My father moved in front of me.
“Then explain it.””
Victor looked at him with undisguised hatred.
“You were never supposed to come back.””
The words hung in the air.
My father went still.
“Why?””
Victor's jaw tightened.
“Because everything was settled. The company was transferred. The estate was secured. Your wife was gone, and your daughter was being raised by someone who understood how to protect her.””
I stared at him.
“Protect me?””
Victor looked at me.
“Your father was a reckless man. Your mother was stubborn. Neither understood how business worked.””
My hands curled into fists.
“You stole their work.””
“We protected valuable intellectual property.””
“You stole it!””
Victor's face darkened.
“Watch your tone, young lady.””
My father stepped forward.
“Don't speak to her.””
For a moment, the two men stared at each other.
Then Victor looked toward the staircase.
“Vanessa!””
My stepmother appeared at the top.
She had changed out of her evening clothes and was wearing a cream-colored coat. A small suitcase sat beside her.
When she saw the police, she stopped.
Her eyes moved to Brianna's papers.
Then to my father.
Finally, they settled on me.
“You shouldn't have come here, Nia.””
I lifted my chin.
“You shouldn't have stolen my mother's designs.””
Vanessa's face tightened.
“You have no idea what you're talking about.””
“Then why were you trying to take the collection out of the country?””
“I was protecting it.””
“From whom?””
She didn't answer.
An officer approached her.
“Ma'am, please come downstairs.””
Vanessa obeyed, but as she passed me, she leaned close enough that only I could hear her.
“You think you know what happened to your mother?””
I turned toward her.
“What are you saying?””
Her eyes glittered.
“Ask Adrian why he never told you what was written in the original fire report.””
My father heard her.
His face changed.
“Vanessa, stop.””
She smiled faintly.
“Oh, now you want silence?””
The officer led her away.
I turned to my father.
“What was in the fire report?””
He looked as though he had been struck.
“I don't know.””
“Then why did she say that?””
“Because she wants to confuse you.””
“Is she?””
He didn't answer quickly enough.
And that frightened me.
The officers searched the upper floor while Rebecca helped Brianna organize the documents she had recovered.
I sat in a small sitting room with my father.
The walls were covered with paintings, and an old grandfather clock ticked beside the fireplace.
I could hear officers moving through the corridors.
Drawers opening.
Doors closing.
Footsteps crossing the wooden floor.
Finally, a young officer entered.
“Mr. Carter, we found a locked room at the end of the second-floor corridor. There's a large quantity of design material inside, along with several storage boxes.””
My father rose.
“Can we see it?””
“After the scene is documented.””
Rebecca joined us.
“Is there evidence of the collection being prepared for transport?””
“Yes. Several crates have been packed, and there are shipping labels for an overseas destination.””
My father exchanged a glance with her.
“Where?””
The officer checked his notes.
“Paris, with onward shipping instructions to a private buyer in London.””
I frowned.
“Someone was going to sell the collection?””
“That's what it appears to be,” Rebecca replied.
The officer continued.
“We also found a desk with financial records and correspondence. Some of it may be relevant to your case.””
My father looked toward the stairs.
“Can we see the blueprints?””
“Not until the forensic team has photographed everything.””
I nodded, though impatience burned through me.
The truth was in that room.
My mother's work.
Her final designs.
The evidence she had hidden because she knew someone might try to take it.
And I was forced to wait outside while strangers handled the things she had left behind.
Then Brianna approached.
She looked smaller than I remembered, without her expensive gown and perfect makeup.
The papers were now inside a clear evidence folder.
“Nia?””
I looked at her.
“What?””
She swallowed.
“I know you hate me.””
I didn't answer.
She glanced toward my father.
“Can we talk alone?””
“No,” I said.
Her face fell.
“Please.””
I folded my arms.
“Why should I trust you?””
She looked down.
“You shouldn't.””
The honesty surprised me.
She continued, “I lied about the gown. I knew it was yours. Mom told me to wear it and say I'd designed it because she thought the judges would recognize the family name.””
I stared at her.
“She told you to steal my work?””
Brianna nodded.
“She said your designs were based on Grandma's collection, so they belonged to the family anyway.””
“That doesn't make sense.””
“I know that now.””
“Why did you destroy my trophy?””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Because I was jealous.””
I waited.
She wiped her cheeks.
“You worked for everything you had. I was given everything, and it still wasn't enough. When you won, I felt like everyone could finally see that I wasn't as talented as you.””
“So you decided to destroy my achievement?””
“Yes.””
The answer was so simple that it made me angrier.
“You could have apologized.””
“I know.””
“You could have told the judges the truth.””
“I know.””
“You could have left my dress alone.””
She began to cry harder.
“I know, Nia.””
I looked away.
For years, I had imagined the day Brianna might admit what she had done.
I had imagined feeling victorious.
Instead, I felt tired.
“You don't get to undo what happened by crying,” I said.
She nodded.
“I know.””
“Then why are you telling me this?””
She reached into the evidence folder and pointed to a handwritten note.
“Because I found something in the locked room.””
My father moved closer.
“What?””
Brianna turned the page.
It was a photocopy of an old document, dated the night of my mother's death.
At the top was the name of the hospital where Eleanor had been taken.
Beneath it was a medical authorization form.
The form had been signed by Vanessa.
My father's expression hardened.
“What is this?””
Brianna shook her head.
“I don't know everything. But Mom kept it hidden with the original blueprints.””
I stared at the document.
A handwritten instruction had been added to the bottom.
*Do not proceed with the transfer until Adrian Carter's location is confirmed.*
The signature beneath it belonged to Victor Hale.
My father took the paper.
His fingers began to tremble.
“Transfer of what?”” I whispered.
He turned the document over.
On the back was a hospital stamp and a reference number.
Rebecca leaned closer.
“This needs to be checked against the original medical records.””
My father nodded.
Then Brianna looked at me.
“There's something else.””
She pulled out a folded sheet of paper.
It was a copy of an old letter.
The handwriting was my mother's.
And the first line read:
Adrian, if anything happens to me, please don't let Vanessa take Nia.
My knees weakened.
I reached for the page.
But before I could read another word, an officer appeared in the doorway.
“Mr. Carter, we've found a second envelope hidden inside the desk.””
He held up a sealed plastic evidence bag.
Inside was a photograph of my mother standing outside the hospital.
She was alive.
And standing beside her was a man wearing a police uniform.
My father stared at the photograph.
Then he whispered a name.
“Detective Robert Miles.””
Rebecca looked up sharply.
“That's impossible.””
I turned toward her.
“Why?””
She took the photograph from the officer and examined the date.
“Because Detective Miles was officially recorded as the first officer to arrive at the studio fire.””
My father's face went pale.
“And he was the one who signed the report stating that Eleanor died before the firefighters arrived.””
The room fell silent.
May you like
Because the woman in the photograph was standing upright, looking directly at the camera.
And the date printed beneath it was two days after the fire.
