Chapter 8: The Signature That Could Destroy Them Both
I didn't sleep.
Victor's words kept repeating in my mind.
Ask Arthur why he signed the document.
At seven the next morning, I arrived at Sterling Fashion International carrying a folder.
Inside were copies of my mother's original designs.
I went straight to Arthur's office.
His assistant looked surprised.
"Miss Carter? Mr. Sterling isn't expecting you.""
"Please tell him it's important.""
She picked up the phone.
A moment later, the office door opened.
"Maya?""
Arthur stood there.
I walked inside.
He closed the door.
"What's happened?""
I placed my folder on his desk.
"Victor called me last night.""
Arthur's expression hardened.
"What did he say?""
I repeated the conversation.
When I mentioned the document, Arthur sat down.
For several seconds, he didn't speak.
Then he opened a drawer and removed a thick file.
"I was afraid this day would come.""
My stomach tightened.
"What does that mean?""
Arthur opened the file.
"Twenty-five years ago, Victor presented me with a document claiming Grace had voluntarily transferred the collection to Sterling Fashion International.""
"And you signed it?""
"Yes.""
I stared at him.
"Without asking my mother?""
"I believed she had already signed the agreement.""
"Did you see her signature?""
"On the copy Victor gave me.""
I shook my head.
"That's not the same as speaking to her.""
"I know.""
He turned the document toward me.
At the bottom was Arthur's signature.
Above it was Grace's.
I studied the page.
"Why did you sign it?""
Arthur looked exhausted.
"Because the company was close to bankruptcy. Victor told me the collection had been legally transferred and that a major investor would provide funding if we secured the rights.""
"And you believed him.""
"Yes.""
"What happened when you found out the truth?""
Arthur leaned back.
"I discovered discrepancies several months later. By then, the collection had already been presented internationally.""
"Then why didn't you publicly correct it?""
His silence answered me.
I stood.
"You let the world believe my mother stole nothing because you were afraid of losing your company.""
Arthur looked at me.
"Yes.""
I couldn't believe how easily he admitted it.
"You knew she had been wronged.""
"Yes.""
"And you let her live with that.""
Arthur lowered his eyes.
"Yes.""
My hands trembled.
"Then you're responsible too.""
He nodded.
"I am.""
I looked at him for a long moment.
I had wanted answers.
I hadn't expected to discover that the man who had offered me a job had helped make my mother's nightmare possible.
Arthur pushed the document toward me.
"I won't ask you to forgive me. But I will help you establish the truth.""
I picked up the paper.
"Then start by giving this to the investigators.""
He nodded.
"I will.""
At nine thirty, the emergency board meeting began.
I was allowed to attend as a witness.
The conference room was enormous.
A long black table stretched beneath a chandelier.
Twelve board members sat around it.
Victor arrived last.
He wore a dark navy suit and carried a leather briefcase.
When he saw me, his mouth tightened.
"Why is she here?""
Arthur stood.
"Because this meeting concerns the original ownership of The Silver Garden collection.""
Victor dropped his briefcase onto the table.
"That's absurd.""
Arthur placed the original sketches in front of the board.
"This collection was created by Grace Carter.""
Victor laughed.
"Here we go again.""
One board member, a woman named Margaret Lewis, picked up a sketch.
"These are originals?""
"Yes," Eleanor answered.
She had joined us that morning.
"I worked with Grace during the entire development period. I can identify every pattern and construction note.""
Victor turned toward her.
"Eleanor. I thought you had retired.""
"I did.""
"Then perhaps you should continue enjoying your retirement.""
Eleanor looked him directly in the eyes.
"I spent twenty-five years regretting that I didn't speak louder. I'm finished being quiet.""
A few board members exchanged glances.
Victor turned toward Arthur.
"You're allowing this?""
Arthur placed a copy of the disputed contract on the table.
"I signed this document based on your representation that Grace had voluntarily transferred her designs.""
Victor nodded.
"Exactly.""
"But I now have reason to believe her signature was forged.""
The room fell silent.
Victor's face hardened.
"That's a ridiculous allegation.""
Margaret looked at the contract.
"Have we had this examined?""
"An independent forensic examination is being arranged," Arthur replied.
Victor stood.
"This is a personal vendetta. Grace Carter left this company decades ago. Her daughter has arrived, received a position, and suddenly believes she can rewrite our history.""
I felt my cheeks burn.
But before I could answer, Margaret spoke.
"Mr. Sterling, please sit down.""
Victor remained standing.
Margaret continued.
"Do you deny that these designs were created before your collection was registered?""
Victor looked around.
"I deny that these papers prove anything.""
Eleanor opened another folder.
Inside were dated pattern sheets, fabric receipts, and workshop records.
"These are the original production notes. Every page carries Grace's initials.""
She placed them before the board.
"Here are the fabric orders, approved by the technical department. Here are the original sample measurements. And here is a photograph taken during the first fitting.""
Margaret studied the documents.
Then she looked at Victor.
"Can you explain why your collection registration contains identical construction measurements?""
Victor's jaw tightened.
"Fashion has similarities.""
"These are not similarities. These are identical specifications.""
He looked toward Arthur.
"You've lost your mind.""
Arthur remained calm.
"No, Victor. I think I've finally found it.""
Victor slammed his palm against the table.
"You're destroying this company!""
Arthur answered quietly.
"No. I'm trying to save it from what you did.""
The room fell silent.
Then Margaret closed the folder.
"Until the investigation is complete, Victor Sterling's creative and licensing authority will be temporarily suspended.""
Victor stared at her.
"You can't do that.""
"The board can.""
He looked around.
Nobody supported him.
For the first time, I watched him experience what my mother must have felt twenty-five years earlier.
Powerlessness.
He gathered his briefcase.
Then he pointed at me.
"This is your fault.""
I stood.
"No. It started when you stole from my mother.""
His face twisted.
"You have no idea what you're dealing with.""
I looked directly at him.
"Then perhaps you should have thought about that before stealing from a woman who kept every receipt.""
Victor stormed out.
The door slammed behind him.
Eleanor exhaled.
Margaret turned toward me.
"Miss Carter, I want to apologize on behalf of the company for what happened to your mother.""
I nodded.
"Thank you.""
She looked at the sketches.
"These designs deserve to be seen.""
I glanced at Arthur.
He nodded.
"Agreed.""
For the first time, the truth was no longer hidden in a locked cabinet.
It was sitting in the middle of a boardroom.
At noon, I went to the old family house.
It had been sold several years after my mother died.
The new owner was a retired teacher named Mrs. Collins.
I had contacted her the previous evening.
When she opened the door, she smiled.
"You must be Maya.""
"Yes. Thank you for letting me come.""
"Your mother was a lovely woman. I remember her.""
I looked at the hallway.
Everything seemed smaller than I remembered.
The kitchen.
The staircase.
The narrow doorway leading to the sewing room.
Mrs. Collins followed me.
"I haven't changed much in there. The previous owner left some furniture, and I kept the old sewing table.""
I stopped.
The wooden table stood near the window.
The same table.
The same little scratches.
The same drawer where my mother kept her scissors.
I touched its surface.
"She used to work here every night.""
Mrs. Collins smiled.
"I can imagine.""
I crouched down.
Underneath the table was a small wooden panel.
I ran my fingers along its edge.
There.
A tiny indentation.
I pressed it.
Nothing happened.
I tried again.
The panel shifted.
A narrow compartment opened.
Inside was a folded piece of silver fabric.
And beneath it was a sealed envelope.
My mother's handwriting appeared across the front.
*For Maya. When you are ready to finish The Last Promise.*
I couldn't stop crying.
Mrs. Collins quietly left the room.
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a sketch.
The most beautiful gown I had ever seen.
It was an extraordinary combination of silver silk, black embroidery, and delicate pearl detailing.
The bodice resembled an unfolding flower.
The sleeves curved like wings.
And the train was covered in tiny hand-drawn stars.
At the bottom was a handwritten note.
This is not a dress for a princess.
It is a dress for a woman who survived.
I touched the paper.
Then I noticed another sheet tucked behind the drawing.
It contained a construction note.
*Final fitting: Grace Carter. Model: Maya Carter.*
My breath caught.
She had designed this gown for me.
A photograph fell from the envelope.
It showed my mother holding a tiny dress against my shoulders when I was eight.
On the back, she had written:
One day, my daughter will wear something I created without asking anyone's permission.
I pressed the photograph against my chest.
For the first time, I understood.
The Last Promise wasn't simply another design.
It was the future my mother had imagined for me.
Then my phone rang.
Arthur.
"Maya, where are you?""
"At my mother's old house.""
"Did you find something?""
"Yes.""
His voice became urgent.
"Listen carefully. We received the preliminary findings from the forensic examiner.""
I gripped the phone.
"And?""
"The signature on the transfer agreement appears to be forged.""
I closed my eyes.
"Then we have proof.""
"We have strong evidence. But there's a problem.""
"What problem?""
"Victor has submitted a counterclaim.""
My stomach tightened.
"What is he claiming?""
Arthur paused.
"He's claiming that your mother stole the original designs from him.""
I stared at the gown.
Then I heard Arthur say:
"And he's produced a witness.""
"Who?""
A long silence.
May you like
Then Arthur gave me the name.
"Your father, Maya.""
