Chapter 9: The Betrayal I Never Expected
For several seconds, I couldn't understand what Arthur had said.
"My father?""
"Yes.""
"That's impossible.""
Arthur's voice was quiet.
"Victor has submitted a signed statement from him.""
I sat down on the old sewing stool.
"What does it say?""
"According to the statement, your father claims Grace took Victor's original designs and presented them as her own.""
I felt sick.
"My father barely understood what my mother did for a living.""
"I understand.""
"He never even visited this company.""
Arthur paused.
"Victor says he was present during a private meeting twenty-five years ago.""
I stared at the sewing table.
My father had spent years telling me that my mother's dreams were unrealistic.
He had watched Denise and Tiffany mock my sketches.
He had never defended me.
But this?
This was something else.
"Mr. Sterling, I need to speak to him.""
"I expected you might.""
"Did you contact him?""
"No. I wanted you to hear this from me first.""
I looked at the gown.
My mother's final design.
The evidence she had hidden for me.
And now my father was standing on the opposite side.
"I'll handle it.""
I drove to my father's house that afternoon.
The same house where I had grown up.
The same white front door.
The same flowerpots Denise insisted on keeping perfectly arranged.
I knocked.
Denise opened the door.
Her smile disappeared when she saw me.
"Maya?""
"Hello, Denise.""
"What are you doing here?""
"I need to speak with Dad.""
"He's busy.""
"Please tell him it's important.""
She folded her arms.
"Is this about that fashion company?""
I said nothing.
She laughed.
"I knew this would happen. You get one little opportunity and suddenly think you're somebody.""
I looked at her.
"Please get Dad.""
Denise stepped aside reluctantly.
"Fine. But don't start another argument.""
I entered.
Tiffany was sitting on the sofa scrolling through her phone.
She looked up.
"Well, look who finally remembered where she came from.""
I ignored her.
"Is Dad home?""
Tiffany smirked.
"Upstairs.""
I walked toward the staircase.
My father appeared before I reached the first step.
"Maya?""
I looked at him.
"Can we talk?""
He glanced at Denise.
Then back at me.
"All right. Come into the study.""
I followed him.
He closed the door.
"What happened?""
I took out my phone.
I showed him the photograph of the statement Victor had submitted.
His expression changed.
"Where did you get that?""
"Victor submitted it to Sterling Fashion International.""
My father looked away.
"That was a long time ago.""
I stared at him.
"You signed a statement saying Mom stole Victor's designs?""
He rubbed his forehead.
"Your mother and I had problems back then.""
"That's not what I asked.""
He sat down.
"Victor approached me after Grace left the company.""
My stomach tightened.
"Why?""
"He said she had taken confidential designs and that he wanted to resolve the situation quietly.""
"And you believed him?""
"He showed me documents.""
"Did you speak to Mom?""
My father didn't answer.
"Did you ask her?""
He shook his head.
I felt something break inside me.
"Why would you do that?""
He looked tired.
"Victor said the company could sue her. He said she might lose everything.""
"So you helped him?""
"I was trying to protect the family.""
I laughed bitterly.
"Protect the family?""
He looked up.
"Yes.""
"Mom spent years believing nobody would ever recognize her work. You knew someone had accused her of stealing, and you helped make that accusation believable.""
My father lowered his eyes.
"I didn't know the full story.""
"You didn't want to know.""
He stood.
"Don't speak to me like that.""
I stared at him.
"Why did you sign?""
He hesitated.
Then he said something that made me feel physically ill.
"Victor paid me.""
I stopped breathing.
"What?""
"He said he would give me money if I confirmed that Grace had taken the designs.""
I stepped backward.
"How much?""
"Twenty thousand dollars.""
I stared at him.
Twenty thousand dollars.
That was what my father had accepted in exchange for my mother's reputation.
"Did Mom know?""
He shook his head.
"No.""
I felt tears burn my eyes.
"She was working two jobs. She was sewing until three in the morning. She was trying to raise me. And you took money from the man who destroyed her career?""
My father looked ashamed.
"I needed the money.""
"For what?""
He didn't answer.
I suddenly remembered something.
The year my mother died, Denise had purchased an expensive car.
Tiffany had received a designer wardrobe.
My father had renovated the house.
I looked at him.
"Was that the money?""
He lowered his head.
I couldn't believe it.
I turned toward the door.
"Maya, wait.""
I stopped.
He approached me.
"I made a mistake.""
I turned around.
"A mistake is forgetting someone's birthday. A mistake is saying something you regret. You helped someone steal your wife's work, then spent the money while she struggled to survive.""
My father's eyes filled.
"I know.""
"No, you don't.""
I opened the door.
He reached for my arm.
"Please. Don't destroy this family.""
I looked at his hand.
Then at him.
"You destroyed it when you decided Mom's truth was worth twenty thousand dollars.""
I walked out.
Denise stood in the hallway.
"What did you say to him?""
I didn't answer.
Tiffany laughed from the sofa.
"You're really becoming dramatic.""
I stopped.
Then I looked at her.
"For once in your life, Tiffany, try being quiet.""
Her smile disappeared.
I walked out of the house.
That evening, Arthur called an emergency legal meeting.
The company's attorneys had reviewed my father's statement.
They wanted me to attend.
When I arrived, Victor was already there.
He sat at the far end of the conference table.
Beside him was a lawyer wearing a dark gray suit.
Victor smiled when he saw me.
"Miss Carter.""
I sat opposite him.
"Mr. Sterling.""
His lawyer opened a folder.
"Miss Carter, your father has provided a signed declaration supporting our client's ownership of the designs.""
I looked at Victor.
"How much did you pay him?""
Victor smiled.
"That's irrelevant.""
"Twenty thousand dollars?""
His smile faded slightly.
I continued.
"He admitted it.""
Victor looked toward his lawyer.
The lawyer cleared his throat.
"Miss Carter, we are here to discuss the ownership of intellectual property, not family matters.""
"Then let's discuss the designs.""
Arthur entered the room.
He sat beside me.
The company attorney began presenting the evidence.
Original sketches.
Dated pattern sheets.
Fabric purchase records.
Registration documents.
Handwriting comparisons.
Then he placed my father's statement on the table.
"Mr. Sterling, this document conflicts with several authenticated records.""
Victor leaned back.
"Your witnesses are biased.""
Eleanor spoke from the opposite side of the table.
"I worked with Grace for eight months. I watched her create every one of those gowns.""
Victor looked at her.
"Your memory is unreliable.""
Eleanor opened another folder.
"Then perhaps this will help.""
She placed a small notebook on the table.
It contained daily production notes from the original collection.
Every entry was dated.
Every design was described.
Every measurement was recorded.
And every page carried Grace's initials.
The lawyer examined it.
"Where did you obtain this?""
Eleanor answered.
"Grace gave it to me before she left.""
Victor's face changed.
Arthur looked at the notebook.
"Is this original?""
"Yes.""
Victor suddenly stood.
"That's enough.""
Arthur didn't move.
"Sit down, Victor.""
"I won't sit here while people fabricate evidence against me.""
The company attorney turned another page.
"There's something else.""
He placed a photograph on the table.
It showed a young Victor standing beside a desk.
A woman was seated opposite him.
My mother.
The photograph was dated six days before the disputed contract was signed.
I stared at it.
"What is this?""
Eleanor answered.
"Your mother secretly took that photograph after Victor threatened her.""
The lawyer explained that the image had been recovered from an old archive backup.
There was also a handwritten note attached.
I read it.
Victor admits the collection belongs to Grace but refuses to return the rights. Arthur must be told before the presentation.
My chest tightened.
Victor stared at the photograph.
Then he looked at Arthur.
"You knew about this?""
Arthur shook his head.
"No.""
Victor's expression became desperate.
"That photograph proves nothing.""
The attorney replied calmly.
"Perhaps not by itself. But combined with the original designs, dated records, and the disputed contract, it raises serious questions.""
Victor looked toward the door.
His lawyer touched his arm.
"Sit down.""
Victor ignored him.
He pointed at Arthur.
"You think you're innocent? You signed the transfer. You approved the collection. You took the profits.""
Arthur stood.
"You're right. I share responsibility for what happened.""
Victor laughed.
"Then why are you pretending to be a hero?""
Arthur looked directly at him.
"Because I finally have the courage to admit what I did.""
Victor went silent.
The attorney closed the folder.
"The company will cooperate with an independent investigation. All relevant documents and financial records will be preserved.""
Victor picked up his briefcase.
"This is not over.""
He walked out.
But this time, nobody followed him.
After the meeting, I sat alone in the design studio.
The Last Promise sketch lay on my table.
I had spent the entire day hearing about money, contracts, lies, and betrayal.
I wanted to think about something else.
I wanted to think about my mother.
Claire entered carrying a garment bag.
"Maya?""
I looked up.
"Yes?""
"I spoke to Arthur. He approved the prototype schedule.""
I blinked.
"For The Last Promise?""
She nodded.
"Your mother's design deserves a proper runway presentation.""
I looked at the garment bag.
"What is that?""
"Something I thought you should see.""
She opened it.
Inside was the first prototype of my silver-and-black gown.
It wasn't finished.
The sleeves still needed adjustment.
The embroidery was incomplete.
But it was beautiful.
I touched the fabric.
Claire smiled.
"Your mother had extraordinary taste.""
I nodded.
"She did.""
Claire placed a hand on my shoulder.
"There's one more thing.""
"What?""
"Arthur wants you to present the collection at the upcoming international showcase.""
I stared at her.
"Me?""
"Yes. Not just the gown. The entire restored collection.""
I couldn't speak.
Claire smiled.
"Twenty-five years ago, your mother was denied that opportunity. This time, she'll have her name on every program.""
I looked down at the prototype.
For the first time, I imagined the runway.
The lights.
The audience.
The moment the first gown appeared.
My mother would finally be remembered.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from my father.
*Please come home. There's something I never told your mother about the night she left Sterling.*
I stared at the screen.
Another message followed.
*Victor didn't act alone. Someone inside the company helped him forge her signature.*
My blood ran cold.
I looked toward Arthur's office.
Then at the message again.
If my father was telling the truth, Victor wasn't the only person responsible.
And the person who had helped him might still be working inside Sterling Fashion International.
I typed one question.
*Who?*
His reply arrived almost immediately.
*Arthur Sterling's personal secretary.*
I looked up.
Through the glass wall, I could see Arthur speaking to a woman standing beside his desk.
A woman who had worked for him for more than thirty years.
Her name was Margaret.
And she was holding a folder containing the original documents from my mother's case.
I stood slowly.
Because suddenly, I understood something terrifying.
May you like
The person who had helped Victor steal my mother's future had been standing beside Arthur all along.
And she might have known I was coming before I even applied for the job.
