Chapter 4: The Signature That Destroyed Her Lie
Vanessa stared at the paper in Richard Bellamy's hands.
For eleven weeks, she had believed that one signature could protect her from every accusation. She had signed the document herself, convinced that Nia would never dare bring it into the open.
Now that signature was being displayed in front of an audience of fashion journalists, industry executives, and judges.
And there was nowhere left to hide it.
“Mrs. Vale,” Richard repeated.
“Did you sign this document?””
Vanessa adjusted the cuff of her cream blouse.
“Yes.””
A wave of whispers swept through the audience.
Brianna turned sharply.
“Mom!””
Vanessa raised one hand, warning her to remain quiet.
Richard examined the signature again.
“What was your purpose in signing?””
“I was confirming that the drawing had been completed in our family's atelier.””
“Not confirming that Nia designed it?””
Vanessa hesitated.
“Nia was working under our family's business at the time. She used our equipment, our studio, and our resources. Her work was part of the boutique's creative development.””
Nia felt her stomach tighten.
There it was.
The same argument Vanessa had used whenever she wanted to take credit for her daughter's work.
She hadn't denied that Nia created the gown.
She was claiming that creation didn't matter.
“That's not true,” Nia said.
Vanessa looked at her.
“Please don't interrupt.””
“I bought the sapphire fabric with my own money. I purchased the crystals. I created every pattern and constructed the gown myself.””
“You were using the studio.””
“After hours. And I paid for the supplies.””
“You were allowed to use the studio because you're family.””
Nia looked directly at her mother.
“Then why did you tell everyone I wasn't capable of creating anything without you?””
Vanessa's mouth tightened.
Richard raised his hand.
“Let's keep this focused. Mrs. Vale, do you have a signed agreement transferring your daughter's independent designs to Vale House?””
Vanessa blinked.
“I believe the arrangement was understood.””
“That's not what I asked.””
“Our family's arrangements are private.””
Richard turned toward Elaine Foster.
“Do we have a copy of such an agreement?””
Elaine shook her head.
“No agreement was included in Brianna's submission.””
Vanessa's expression changed.
“Then the submission was incomplete. My attorney can provide the appropriate documents.””
“That's something we'll need to examine separately.””
Brianna suddenly stood.
“This is ridiculous!””
The audience turned toward her.
She pointed at Nia.
“She gave me the dress!””
Nia's expression didn't change.
“I said you could keep it after you took it from me.””
“You said, 'Fine. Keep it.''”
“After Mom slapped me.””
Brianna flushed.
“That doesn't change what you said.””
Nia looked toward the judges.
“Does giving someone permission to keep a dress mean you give them permission to claim they designed it?””
Richard shook his head.
“No. Those are two different matters.””
Brianna opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Vanessa reached for her daughter's arm.
“Sit down.””
“No! She can't just stand there and pretend she didn't give me the gown!””
Nia took one step forward.
“Tell them what happened in the fitting room.””
Brianna's eyes narrowed.
“What?””
“Tell them who was holding the dress. Tell them who ordered me to hand it over. Tell them who cut my initials out of the neckline.””
The room became almost completely silent.
Vanessa's face lost its composure.
“That's enough.””
“No,” Nia replied.
“It isn't.””
Richard Bellamy walked back to the judges' table.
He spoke quietly with Elaine and the other panel members. Their expressions were serious as they examined the documents and photographs.
Brianna remained standing.
She looked increasingly uncomfortable beneath the overhead lights.
Vanessa leaned toward her.
“Don't say another word.””
“Mom, they're going to disqualify me.””
“Not if you stop talking.””
“But what if they check the photographs?””
Vanessa's eyes flashed.
“Brianna.””
Nia heard the exchange.
She remembered another conversation, months earlier, when Brianna had admired the first sapphire sketches and asked whether Nia planned to enter the Bellamy competition.
At the time, Nia had told her everything.
She had explained the silhouette, the crystal placement, and the silver star.
Brianna had listened carefully.
Too carefully.
Now Nia understood why.
Brianna hadn't simply noticed a beautiful gown.
She had been studying the work before deciding to claim it.
Richard returned to the microphone.
“Following an initial review of the evidence, the panel has decided to temporarily suspend the scoring of Brianna Vale's submission, Sapphire Midnight.””
Brianna gripped Vanessa's arm.
“What?””
Richard continued.
“The original authorship of the design will be examined by our technical team. We will also preserve the submitted materials and digital records associated with both entries.””
Vanessa stepped forward.
“You cannot do that without hearing our side.””
“We have heard your side, Mrs. Vale. You will have an opportunity to submit supporting documentation.””
“This is damaging my daughter's career.””
Richard looked at her.
“Then you should be particularly interested in establishing the truth.””
The words landed like a slap.
Nia lowered her eyes for a moment.
She had spent years hoping someone would say something like that to Vanessa.
Now that it had happened, she felt no satisfaction.
Only exhaustion.
Richard turned toward Nia.
“Ms. Vale, your collection remains eligible for judging. The panel will evaluate your work independently of this dispute.””
“Thank you.””
“However, the authorship investigation will continue after today's presentations.””
Nia nodded.
“I understand.””
The audience began applauding.
It started with one person near the front.
Then another joined.
Soon, the applause spread throughout the hall.
Nia stood motionless.
She wasn't sure whether to smile or cry.
Mrs. Collins, watching from the backstage entrance, pressed a hand against her chest.
For the first time in years, someone had publicly acknowledged Nia's work.
The applause was interrupted by a sharp movement.
Brianna had stepped toward the judges' table.
“Give me those sketches!””
A security officer immediately moved between her and Richard.
“Ma'am, please step back.””
“Those are my designs!””
Nia stared at her.
“You just said I gave you the dress.””
Brianna pointed at the papers.
“The drawings are mine too!””
“Then tell them what I wrote on the second page.””
Brianna froze.
Nia turned toward the judges.
“On the second sheet, I wrote the measurements for the original corset. The waist construction is different from the version in the final gown because I changed it after the first fitting.””
Richard opened the page.
“She's correct. There's a handwritten alteration note here.””
Elaine examined it.
“And the corresponding construction photograph is dated eleven weeks ago.””
Brianna's mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Vanessa moved quickly between her daughter and the security officer.
“She is upset. This has become unnecessarily confrontational.””
“Then perhaps she should explain why she submitted somebody else's work,” Nia replied.
Vanessa's eyes turned hard.
“You think you've won something?””
Nia looked at her mother.
“No. I think I've finally stopped losing myself.””
For several seconds, neither woman moved.
Then Vanessa leaned closer.
Her voice was low enough that the nearby cameras couldn't pick it up.
“You have absolutely no idea what you've started.””
Nia felt a chill travel down her back.
“What does that mean?””
Vanessa straightened.
“Ask Mrs. Collins what happened to your grandmother's last collection.””
Before Nia could respond, Vanessa took Brianna by the arm and walked toward the exit.
Nia remained at the center of the runway.
Her grandmother's last collection?
She had never heard Vanessa mention it before.
Backstage, Mrs. Collins hurried toward her.
“Sweetheart!””
Nia embraced the older woman.
“You saw that?””
“I saw every second.””
“They suspended Brianna's entry.””
Mrs. Collins nodded.
“Good.””
“But Mom said something strange.””
Mrs. Collins' smile disappeared.
“What did she say?””
Nia repeated Vanessa's words.
“Ask Mrs. Collins what happened to your grandmother's last collection.””
For a moment, the older woman's expression became unreadable.
She looked toward the hallway, checking whether anyone was close enough to hear.
Then she took Nia's hand.
“Your mother shouldn't have brought that up here.””
“What is it?””
Mrs. Collins glanced down at their joined hands.
“Your grandmother left behind more than a box of patterns, Nia.””
“Then what did she leave?””
Before Mrs. Collins could answer, a competition assistant hurried into the room.
“Ms. Vale? There's someone waiting for you outside.””
“Who?””
The assistant swallowed.
“He says he represents an investor who has been following your grandmother's work for years.””
Nia frowned.
“What does he want?””
The assistant handed her a business card.
Nia read the name.
*Daniel Whitmore — Whitmore Fashion Group.*
On the back, in handwritten ink, were seven words.
I knew your grandmother. She asked me to find you.
May you like
Nia looked up.
And Mrs. Collins suddenly seemed frightened.
