Chapter 9: The Last Call My Father Made
I couldn't speak.
Victoria's words kept repeating inside my head.
Someone he loved.
My father had loved my mother. He had loved me. And before his death, he had trusted Vanessa enough to bring her into our home.
Who had he discovered was stealing from him?
"Did he say Vanessa's name?"" I asked.
Victoria shook her head.
"No. The call was brief. He sounded frightened, and I could hear someone moving around near him.""
"Could it have been Graham?""
"I don't know.""
Daniel Collins stood beside the table, his expression grim.
"Victoria, do you still have records of that call?""
She nodded and walked to the cabinet.
From a drawer, she removed a small notebook and a folded piece of paper.
"I wrote down the time because I thought it might matter later.""
She handed the paper to Daniel.
The date matched the night my father died.
The time was 8:42 p.m.
Daniel checked his own records.
"According to the death certificate, Thomas was taken to the hospital shortly after nine.""
I stared at the paper.
"He called you less than half an hour before he was taken to the hospital?""
"Yes.""
"Did he sound ill?""
Victoria hesitated.
"He sounded stressed, but he was coherent. He told me he was going to meet someone. He said he had proof that the company's accounts had been manipulated.""
"Where was he going?""
"He didn't tell me.""
I thought of the restaurant photograph, the folder Graham had carried, and the suspicious bank transfer.
My father had been trying to uncover the truth.
Then he died.
And Vanessa had spent two years convincing me that his death had left us with nothing.
Daniel slipped the paper into his folder.
"We need to request the original emergency medical records and determine whether there are any surviving communications from that evening.""
"Can we find out who he met?"" I asked.
"We can try.""
Victoria looked at me.
"Nia, there is something you should understand. Even if your father was investigating fraud, that doesn't prove anyone caused his death. We need to be careful not to confuse suspicion with evidence.""
I nodded.
I wanted answers so badly that every coincidence felt like proof.
But I remembered what Eleanor had told me.
An accusation wasn't the same as the truth.
I wouldn't let anger turn me into the kind of person Vanessa had become.
"Then we'll find the evidence," I said.
Daniel gave a small nod.
"That's exactly what we'll do.""
We returned to Daniel's office that afternoon.
He contacted the bank, the estate administrator, and the attorney who had handled my father's medical affairs. Victoria agreed to provide a formal statement about the original collection, the threats she had received, and the documents she had preserved.
I sat at the conference table while Daniel organized everything into separate files.
One concerned the stolen fashion collection.
Another concerned the forged transfer agreement.
A third contained the suspicious financial transactions and my father's final communications.
The more we examined the evidence, the more complicated the story became.
My father had established the trust for me, but part of the money had passed through accounts connected to Carter House Fashion.
The company had been transferred into a holding structure that Graham now claimed was invalid.
And the education fund that Vanessa had allowed Brianna to drain appeared to have been financed partly by royalties from my mother's original designs.
The money I had believed was impossible to obtain had existed all along.
Someone had simply made sure I never knew.
Daniel closed the final file.
"We have enough to challenge the company's claims and request a formal investigation into the disputed transactions. But we still need independent verification of the signatures and financial records.""
"How long will that take?""
"Some parts could move quickly. Others may take months.""
I stared at the table.
Months.
My eye treatment couldn't wait indefinitely.
Daniel seemed to read my thoughts.
"I've contacted the trust administrator about releasing funds for your medical care. We have a strong argument that those funds are separate from the disputed company assets.""
"Will I be able to see the specialist?""
"I'm working on it.""
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.
For the first time in months, I allowed myself to imagine sitting in a doctor's office without calculating whether I could afford the consultation.
I pictured a future where my vision might stabilize, where I could return to sewing without fearing that every hour of work was my last.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from Brianna.
Mom knows I've been talking to you. She's furious.
Another message followed.
She says she's going to send me away if I don't tell her where Victoria lives.
I immediately called her.
She answered in a whisper.
"Where are you?""
"In the upstairs bathroom.""
"Are you safe?""
"I think so.""
I heard a door slam somewhere in the background.
Brianna gasped.
"She's looking for me.""
"Go somewhere you can lock the door, if it's safe to do so. Don't confront her. I'll contact Daniel and make sure we have a safe plan.""
"Nia, there's something else.""
"What?""
"Mom has the original documents from Dad's office. Not copies. The originals.""
My stomach tightened.
"Which documents?""
"The holding company papers. The bank statements. And a letter Dad wrote to her before he died.""
"What did the letter say?""
"I don't know. But she keeps it in a red folder inside the safe in her bedroom.""
"How do you know?""
"Because I saw her reading it last night. She was crying.""
I fell silent.
Vanessa crying was something I had rarely witnessed.
For years, she had seemed incapable of remorse.
But grief could mean many things.
"What did she say?"" I asked.
Brianna's voice trembled.
"She said, 'You promised me this would never come out, Thomas.''"
My blood ran cold.
My father had been dead for two years.
Yet Vanessa had been speaking to his memory as though he had personally betrayed her.
"Brianna, don't try to open the safe. Don't take anything that could put you at risk. Just tell Daniel what you've seen.""
"Okay.""
She hesitated.
"Do you think Mom hurt Dad?""
I closed my eyes.
"I don't know.""
"Do you hate me?""
The question caught me off guard.
I thought of the stolen gown, the laughter, and the way Brianna had watched me fall.
Then I thought of the video she had given me and the evidence she had helped uncover.
"I'm angry with you," I said honestly.
"You hurt me, and you need to take responsibility for that. But I'm not going to tell you that you're beyond forgiveness.""
She began to cry.
"Thank you.""
"Just tell the truth, Brianna. Whatever happens, don't lie to protect someone who keeps asking you to hurt other people.""
The call ended.
I looked at Daniel.
He had heard enough to understand.
"We need to handle this carefully," he said.
"If those original documents exist, we should request that they be preserved through legal channels. No one should enter Vanessa's room or attempt to access the safe without authorization.""
He made another call.
I sat quietly, listening to the sounds of the office.
For the first time, I realized that the truth might not arrive as one dramatic revelation.
It might come through bank records, letters, signatures, and the small details people had assumed nobody would ever examine.
My father had left a trail.
And we were finally following it.
At 6:30 p.m., Eleanor Hayes called.
"I've received the judges' preliminary assessment," she said.
I sat up.
"What did they decide?""
"Your design remains eligible. The ownership dispute will be handled separately, and the judges have agreed not to penalize you for allegations that have not been substantiated.""
I closed my eyes in relief.
"Thank you.""
"You earned that opportunity, Nia. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise.""
She paused.
"There's something else. The competition's legal team has reviewed Brianna's video. They are prepared to preserve it as evidence if the relevant authorities request it.""
I thought of Brianna's frightened face.
"Will she get into trouble?""
"She may face consequences for entering a gown she didn't create under her own name. But the fact that she has cooperated and admitted what happened may be relevant.""
I nodded, even though Eleanor couldn't see me.
"She should be held accountable.""
"That's fair.""
Eleanor's voice softened.
"And Nia? The judges were impressed by Phoenix Rising. Whatever happens with the company, your work has value independent of your family name.""
For a moment, I couldn't answer.
Then I whispered, "I needed to hear that.""
After we ended the call, I looked at the sketchbook beside me.
The pages were covered with measurements, failed experiments, and tiny corrections.
They were evidence of something no contract could take away.
I had created that gown.
I had made it with one functioning eye, almost no money, and less than eighteen hours.
And I had done it because I refused to give up.
Whatever happened next, that would remain true.
The following morning, Daniel called me into his office earlier than planned.
He was standing beside the window with a document in his hand.
"Nia, we've received a response from the medical facility that treated your father.""
I gripped the back of a chair.
"What did they say?""
"They confirmed that your father contacted them shortly before his death. He requested a copy of his recent examination records and asked to speak with a physician about a medication he had been prescribed.""
I frowned.
"Was he sick?""
"He had a documented cardiac condition. His death certificate is consistent with that history.""
The disappointment in my chest was immediate, followed by shame.
I had wanted the answer to be simple. I had wanted to discover a clear villain and an undeniable act of betrayal.
But the evidence was not giving me that.
Daniel continued.
"The facility also confirmed that Victoria Grant was a patient there several years earlier. Your father paid part of her rehabilitation expenses.""
"So he was helping her.""
"Yes. That supports her account that they remained in contact.""
He handed me another document.
"But we've also obtained a record of the meeting your father scheduled with the accountant on the day he died.""
I scanned the page.
The meeting had been canceled.
The reason was written in a brief note.
Client requested postponement following a telephone call from G. Grant.
I looked up.
"Does that mean Graham stopped him?""
"It means the meeting was postponed after Graham called. We need the accountant's testimony to understand why.""
"Can we contact him?""
"We already have.""
Daniel picked up his phone.
"He has agreed to meet us this afternoon.""
I sat down slowly.
At last, we had someone who might explain what my father had discovered.
Then Daniel's office phone rang.
He answered, listened, and frowned.
"Are you certain?""
A pause.
"Please send the documents immediately.""
He hung up.
I stared at him.
"What happened?""
"The accountant has located an email from your father, sent the night before his death.""
Daniel opened the attachment on his computer.
The message was short.
I've discovered that the transfers were not authorized by the board. Graham insists the signatures are valid, but I have proof they were copied from the original agreements.
Beneath it was a second paragraph.
I have also found the person who approved the payments.
I leaned closer to the screen.
The email ended before the name appeared.
Daniel opened the attachment history.
There was a scanned document.
At the bottom was a handwritten signature.
Vanessa Carter.
I stared at it.
The signature matched the one on the letter from the storage unit.
But the document contained a new detail.
It was an authorization for a transfer from the company's account to a private holding company.
The beneficiary was listed as *V.G. HOLDINGS*.
Victoria Grant?
Or Vanessa Grant, before she married my father?
I looked at Daniel.
"Which one is it?""
He enlarged the document.
Beneath the company name was a registration number.
Daniel searched the number against the records he had obtained.
Then he went completely still.
"What?"" I asked.
He turned the screen toward me.
The holding company had been established twenty years earlier.
Its registered owner was not Victoria.
It was Vanessa.
I stared at the name.
Vanessa Grant.
The name she had used before marrying my father.
The name on the photograph.
The name connected to the original collection.
She hadn't merely married into my family.
She had already established a company capable of receiving the money before she entered our home.
And she had used it to move assets away from Carter House Fashion.
Daniel closed the document.
"This is a significant discovery, but we still need to verify the transactions and establish exactly who authorized them.""
I nodded slowly.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Brianna appeared.
I found the letter in the red folder.
A photograph followed.
It showed a handwritten note addressed to Vanessa.
The signature at the bottom was unmistakable.
My father's.
I opened the image.
Vanessa,
I know about the transfers. I know about Graham, and I know what happened to Elena's collection.
If you do not return the money and restore the original ownership records, I will tell Nia everything.
My hands began to tremble.
The next line was even more disturbing.
I will also tell her what you promised me about the night of the accident.
I stared at the screen.
The night of the accident.
Which accident?
My mother's death?
Victoria's crash?
Or something that had happened to my father?
Before I could ask Brianna, another message appeared.
There's a second page.
Then she sent a final photograph.
My father's handwriting continued.
You told me you never intended for anyone to get hurt. I believed you once. I will not make that mistake again.
I felt sick.
Daniel read the message over my shoulder.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he said, "We need to preserve this immediately. Brianna must not alter the original letter, and we need to establish how she obtained the photograph.""
I typed a reply, asking her to keep the document safe and tell Daniel exactly where it was.
She answered with three words.
Mom has the original.
I looked at the screen.
Then another message appeared.
And she's leaving the house.
A third followed.
She's taking the red folder with her.
I stood abruptly.
"Where is she going?""
Brianna's reply arrived.
I don't know.
Then my phone rang.
It was Victoria Grant.
Her voice was frantic.
"Nia, listen to me. Vanessa just called. She knows we found the storage unit.""
I gripped the phone.
"What did she say?""
"She said she's going to destroy the original ownership records before anyone can use them.""
I looked at Daniel.
He was already reaching for his coat.
Victoria's voice broke.
"And Nia, there's something else. She said she knows where the final piece of the collection is hidden.""
My heart pounded.
"What final piece?""
Victoria went silent for a moment.
Then she whispered, "The original phoenix design was never the only gown Elena created. There was a second dress, one that proved exactly who had designed the collection.""
I stared at the photographs spread across Daniel's desk.
The white gown.
The sapphire embroidery.
The hidden contracts.
Everything we had found so far was only part of the story.
"Where is the second dress?"" I asked.
Victoria's answer came so quietly that I almost didn't hear it.
"With Vanessa.""
The call ended.
Daniel picked up the folder containing the evidence.
"We need to contact the authorities and make sure the original records are preserved.""
I looked toward the window.
Outside, the city continued moving as though nothing had changed.
But my world had changed completely.
My stepmother had stolen my dress because she wanted to destroy my chance at the competition.
She had hidden my inheritance because she wanted control.
And now she was racing to destroy the last evidence that could restore my mother's name.
I reached for my sketchbook.
Inside the back cover was the first drawing I had ever made of Phoenix Rising.
My own version.
My own work.
I held it tightly.
Vanessa could take documents.
She could hide money.
She could rewrite the past as many times as she wanted.
But she could never make me believe that my mother had been nothing.
And she could never make me stop looking for the truth.
Daniel opened the office door.
"Ready?""
I took one final look at my mother's photograph.
Then I followed him into the hallway.
May you like
Because somewhere in the city, Vanessa Carter was carrying the final piece of the puzzle.
And this time, I wasn't going to let her disappear with it.
