Chapter 6: The Dress They Tried to Destroy Was the Key
The next morning, I woke to the sound of my father arguing on the phone.
His voice came from the living room.
“No. I don't care what the board thinks. I want the building secured.””
A pause.
Then he spoke more sharply.
“Because I am telling you that someone has been inside the archives.””
I sat up.
For a few seconds, I forgot everything.
Then I remembered.
My father was alive.
My mother might be alive.
And someone had sent us a photograph proving they were watching.
I pulled on a sweater and walked into the living room.
My father ended the call.
“Good morning.””
“What's happening?””
He glanced at Eleanor.
She was standing beside the window, looking at her phone.
“We're going to the old design studio,” he said.
I looked at him.
“Today?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because someone has already entered the building.””
Eleanor showed me a photograph.
It showed the studio's front entrance.
The glass doors had been forced open.
A security camera hung loose from its mounting.
“Was anything stolen?”” I asked.
“We don't know yet,” she replied.
My father picked up his coat.
“Get dressed. We're leaving in twenty minutes.””
I went to my room.
Before leaving, I took the small photograph of my mother from the kitchen table and placed it inside my bag.
I didn't know whether I would ever see her again.
But I wanted to carry something that belonged to her.
The Carter Design Archives stood in an old industrial district near the river.
It was a beautiful building.
Large windows.
Black iron frames.
A central glass entrance.
The sign above the doors had faded, but I could still make out my father's name.
I had visited the place only twice as a child.
The first time, my father had carried me on his shoulders.
The second time, my mother had taken my hand and shown me a room filled with fabric samples.
Now the building looked abandoned.
A security vehicle stood outside.
Two officers greeted my father.
“Mr. Carter.””
He nodded.
“Show me what happened.””
They led us inside.
The main exhibition hall was covered in dust.
Glass display cases stood empty.
A few mannequins remained, dressed in old couture pieces.
I stopped in front of one.
A beautiful ivory gown with delicate red embroidery.
My mother's design.
I recognized the wings immediately.
They were smaller than mine, but the shape was unmistakable.
“Dad…”
He came to stand beside me.
“That's one of Amelia's earliest pieces.””
I touched the glass.
“It's beautiful.””
“She made it when she was pregnant with you.””
I turned.
“What?””
He smiled faintly.
“She said she wanted to create something that would remind her of you.””
I looked back at the dress.
A small red star was embroidered near the waist.
My childhood signature.
I felt tears gather in my eyes.
“She put my star on it.””
“She did.””
Then a voice came from behind us.
“Actually, she put it there for a reason.””
We turned.
An elderly man stood near the staircase.
He wore a brown jacket and carried a leather walking stick.
My father stared at him.
“Mr. Collins?””
The man nodded.
“It's been a long time, Daniel.””
My father approached him.
“I thought you retired.””
“I did.””
The man looked at me.
“And you must be Nia.””
I nodded.
He smiled.
“Your mother talked about you constantly.””
I stepped closer.
“You knew my mother?””
“For twenty years. I was the chief pattern maker here.””
My father introduced him as Samuel Collins.
Samuel had worked with my parents before the accident.
He had been responsible for preserving the original couture patterns and maintaining the private archives.
“Do you know about the vault?”” I asked.
Samuel's expression changed.
He glanced toward my father.
“You told her?””
“She deserves to know.””
Samuel nodded slowly.
“Then I suppose it's time.””
He led us through a narrow corridor behind the exhibition hall.
At the end was a heavy metal door.
There was no handle.
Only a small circular panel.
My father studied it.
“Amelia installed a biometric lock.””
Samuel nodded.
“She designed it herself.””
Eleanor approached.
“Can it still be opened?””
“Only with the original access sequence.””
My father looked at me.
“What?””
Samuel smiled.
“Your mother chose something very personal.””
He pointed toward the panel.
“Try the star.””
I stared at it.
“What star?””
“Your mother's favorite design. The little red star you used to draw.””
I looked at my father.
He nodded.
“Try it.””
I touched the small symbol engraved into the panel.
A soft beep sounded.
A narrow screen illuminated.
Then four numbers appeared.
*0707.*
My birthday.
The lock clicked.
The heavy door slowly opened.
Inside was a small chamber.
Rows of carefully preserved garment boxes lined the walls.
There were sketchbooks, fabric samples, photographs, and several locked cabinets.
In the center stood a large glass display case.
Inside it was a black-and-white gown.
The original Phoenix design.
The dress my mother had created before I was born.
Its shoulders rose into magnificent sculpted wings.
One black.
One ivory.
Silver embroidery ran along the bodice.
And at the waist was a small red star.
I stepped closer.
It looked almost exactly like the gown I had made for the competition.
My father stood beside me.
“Your mother always believed you would finish this design one day.””
I swallowed.
“Why didn't she tell me?””
He placed his hand on my shoulder.
“Because she wanted to give you the choice.””
Samuel walked toward a cabinet.
“There is something else.””
He opened a drawer and removed a small envelope.
It had my name written across the front.
NIA.
My fingers trembled.
I opened it.
Inside was a folded letter.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
My mother's.
My dearest little star,
If you are reading this, then you have found the wings.
I hope you have grown into the person you were always meant to become. I hope you have kept drawing, even when the world told you that your dreams were foolish.
I pressed the letter against my chest.
There is something I need you to understand.
The Phoenix Collection was never meant to belong to a fashion house. It was created for you.
Your father and I placed the original designs in this vault because we discovered someone was trying to steal them.
But the designs were only part of what we were protecting.
I turned the page.
There was another paragraph.
Inside the lining of the original winged gown is a hidden pocket. Your father knows how to open it.
I looked up.
“Dad?””
He was staring at the dress.
His face had become pale.
“Do you know where it is?””
He nodded slowly.
“Your mother showed me.””
He approached the display case.
Samuel entered a code, and the glass panel opened.
My father carefully lifted the gown from its support.
He turned the bodice inside out and examined the lining.
After a moment, his fingers found a small concealed seam.
He pressed it.
A tiny pocket opened.
Inside was a silver key.
And a folded photograph.
My father removed the photograph first.
When he saw it, his hands began to shake.
“What's wrong?”” I asked.
He turned it toward me.
It showed my mother standing in front of a hospital.
She looked older than in the photographs I remembered.
Her hair was shorter.
Her face was thinner.
But she was smiling.
And beside her stood a little girl.
A girl who looked exactly like me.
I stared at the photograph.
“Who is that?””
My father didn't answer.
Samuel moved closer.
Then he whispered something that made my heart stop.
“That's not Nia.””
I looked at him.
“What?””
Samuel pointed to the little girl.
“Your mother was holding someone else's hand.””
My father turned the photograph over.
There was a handwritten date.
And beneath it, a name.
*AMELIA CARTER — PATIENT VISIT, OCTOBER 18.*
The hospital was the same one where my mother had supposedly died ten years earlier.
But the photograph had been taken three years after her death.
I looked at my father.
“She's alive.””
He couldn't speak.
I clutched the photograph.
“Dad, she's alive!””
He finally nodded.
Then he looked at the silver key.
“There's another room beneath this vault.””
Samuel's face changed.
“Daniel…”
My father turned.
“What?””
Samuel looked toward the floor.
“Your wife told me never to open it unless both of you came back.””
My father stared at him.
“Both of us?””
Samuel nodded.
“She said that if you ever returned, and Nia found the wings, then the truth would finally be safe to reveal.””
I looked between them.
“What truth?””
Samuel slowly walked to the back wall.
He moved an old garment rack aside, revealing a narrow staircase.
At the bottom was another metal door.
My father held the silver key.
He inserted it into the lock.
It turned.
A heavy mechanism clicked.
The door opened.
Inside was a small room containing a desk, several sealed boxes, and a single monitor.
The monitor suddenly flickered to life.
A woman's face appeared on the screen.
She looked older.
Her hair was streaked with gray.
But her eyes were unmistakable.
I dropped the photograph.
My father stumbled backward.
The woman looked directly into the camera.
Then she spoke.
“Nia, sweetheart…”
My entire body went cold.
“Mom?””
The woman began to cry.
“I know you must have a thousand questions.””
She paused.
Then she looked toward the person standing beside her.
“Your father has finally come home.””
A second figure entered the frame.
A man.
I couldn't see his face clearly.
But I heard his voice.
And my father immediately grabbed the edge of the desk.
Because it was the voice of the man who had signed his death certificate.
The voice of the man who had attended his funeral.
The voice of someone who should have been impossible to find.
“Hello, David,” the man said.
My father whispered:
“Richard.””
Then the screen went black.
May you like
A final message appeared.
*THE PERSON WHO CAUSED THE ACCIDENT IS STILL INSIDE THE CARTER FAMILY.*
