Chapter 5: The Deal Signed by Her Father
Nia couldn't stop staring at the signature.
Daniel Vale.
Her father's name.
The handwriting was familiar, but the document was dated three months after his funeral.
She read the date again.
Then a third time.
"That's impossible.""
Brianna held the paper out.
"I received this from Vanessa's legal representative.""
Nia took it.
"Three months after my father died?""
Vanessa looked away.
Judge Harris immediately noticed.
"Miss Reed, explain that.""
Vanessa folded her arms.
"Daniel had already signed the agreement before he passed away. The document was registered later.""
Nia shook her head.
"My father was in the hospital for months. He couldn't even hold a pen during the last six weeks.""
"That doesn't mean he couldn't have signed earlier.""
"Then why is the registration dated after his death?""
Vanessa didn't answer.
Brianna stepped forward.
"Can somebody please explain what I am supposed to do with this?""
Nia turned toward her.
"You could start by admitting that you bought stolen designs.""
"I bought a collection with documents.""
"You bought my work.""
"I didn't know it was yours!""
"You knew enough to put my grandmother's lace inside your dress.""
Brianna looked furious.
"That wasn't my decision!""
Nia stopped.
"What?""
Brianna swallowed.
"Vanessa arranged the final construction. She insisted the lace had to be included.""
Vanessa snapped her head toward her.
"Don't.""
"Why not? You told me it was the signature detail.""
Nia looked between them.
"Why did you insist on the lace?""
Vanessa said nothing.
Brianna continued.
"You said it would make the gown more valuable. You told me the antique detail would give the collection a historical connection.""
Judge Harris stepped closer.
"Who physically inserted it?""
"Marisol," Brianna replied.
"My head seamstress.""
"Under whose instruction?""
Brianna pointed directly at Vanessa.
"Her instruction.""
Vanessa's expression hardened.
"That's a lie.""
"Then call Marisol.""
"She's not here.""
"Exactly!""
Brianna turned toward the judges.
"I have messages. I have emails. I have payment records.""
Vanessa's eyes narrowed.
"You said those messages had been deleted.""
Brianna froze.
Nia heard it.
So did Judge Harris.
"Deleted?"" he repeated.
Vanessa realized her mistake.
"I meant archived.""
Brianna laughed bitterly.
"No. You told me to delete them because they contained sensitive information.""
The ballroom erupted again.
Mr. Collins signaled to security.
"Nobody leaves until we have taken statements.""
Vanessa stood.
"This is outrageous.""
A security officer stepped closer.
"Please remain seated.""
Vanessa glared at him.
"Do you know who I am?""
"Yes, ma'am. You're the person being asked to remain here.""
For the first time that evening, the crowd laughed.
It was brief.
But Vanessa's face burned.
Nia barely noticed.
Her attention was fixed on the document.
She ran a finger beneath her father's signature.
Something was wrong.
Her father always signed his name with a small upward stroke at the end of the letter V.
This signature had a downward stroke.
She had seen his handwriting thousands of times.
He had signed school forms, birthday cards, permission slips, and the little notes he used to leave beside her breakfast.
This wasn't his signature.
"Judge Harris.""
He turned.
"What is it?""
"I think this is forged.""
Brianna looked at her.
"What?""
Nia pointed to the signature.
"My father didn't sign this.""
Vanessa laughed.
"You're not a handwriting expert.""
"No. But I know my father's handwriting.""
"That's not evidence.""
"Then let an expert examine it.""
Judge Harris nodded.
"That is precisely what should happen.""
Brianna rubbed her forehead.
"I can't believe this.""
Nia turned toward her.
"Did you ever meet my father?""
"No.""
"Did Vanessa tell you he signed the agreement?""
"Yes.""
"Did you ask for proof?""
"I saw the document.""
"Did you know he was dead when it was registered?""
Brianna hesitated.
"Yes.""
"Then why did you accept it?""
Brianna's voice rose.
"Because I was told it had already been signed! I didn't know the registration date mattered!""
Nia shook her head.
"You're a fashion executive. You signed a contract worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. You didn't check whether the person transferring the rights was alive?""
Brianna's expression collapsed.
For a moment, she looked less like a powerful designer and more like a woman realizing the consequences of a terrible decision.
"I thought I was building something," she whispered.
Nia looked at the gown.
"You built it on someone else's life.""
Brianna looked down.
Judge Harris instructed the competition staff to preserve the documents and secure the garment.
Dr. Grant carefully covered the exposed lace with protective tissue.
Eleanor watched the process in silence.
Then she reached for Nia's hand.
"Come with me.""
"Grandma, we need to stay.""
"Just for a moment.""
Nia followed her toward a quiet corner near the ballroom windows.
Outside, the city lights shimmered against the dark glass.
Eleanor lowered herself into a chair.
"I need to tell you something about your father.""
Nia knelt beside her.
"What?""
"Daniel knew about the archive.""
Nia frowned.
"Of course he did. He was married to Mom.""
"No. I mean he knew where the veils were after they disappeared.""
Nia's heart began beating faster.
"How?""
Eleanor stared at the ballroom floor.
"Because he helped move them.""
Nia stood.
"What?""
"Your father discovered what your mother was planning. He confronted her. They argued for days.""
"Why would he help her?""
"He loved her.""
"That doesn't make sense.""
Eleanor looked up.
"Your father was afraid your mother would be arrested. He thought if he helped her move the collection, he could protect her until she changed her mind.""
Nia shook her head.
"Then why didn't he tell you?""
"Because I would have called the police.""
"Grandma...""
Eleanor's eyes filled.
"He promised me he would return everything. He said the pieces were safe. He said your mother had made a mistake and he would fix it.""
Nia sat beside her.
"Did he?""
Eleanor shook her head.
"Not before he died.""
Nia looked toward the runway.
Brianna was arguing with a security officer.
Vanessa was speaking quietly to someone on her phone.
And the red gown stood beneath the spotlight, its enormous wings casting strange shadows against the ballroom walls.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because I wanted you to remember your father as a good man.""
Nia's throat tightened.
"He was a good man.""
"I know.""
"Then don't turn him into someone he wasn't.""
Eleanor reached for her hand.
"That's why I have to tell you the rest.""
Nia waited.
"Your father didn't sign that document.""
Nia looked at her.
"You just said he helped move the collection.""
"He did. But he never agreed to sell it.""
"How do you know?""
"Because the night before he died, he gave me something.""
Eleanor opened her handbag.
Inside was a small brass key.
It was old and slightly tarnished.
Nia stared at it.
"What does it open?""
"A safety deposit box.""
"Where?""
"At the old bank on Mercer Street.""
"What's inside?""
Eleanor looked toward the ballroom.
"Your father's original records.""
Nia took the key.
"Why didn't you open it?""
"Because I was waiting for the right moment.""
"Grandma, it's been seven years.""
"I know.""
"Why tonight?""
Eleanor looked at the red gown.
"Because I recognized the lace. And because I finally understood that whoever took those pieces never intended to return them.""
Nia closed her fingers around the key.
"Then we're going.""
Before Eleanor could answer, a commotion erupted near the ballroom entrance.
A tall man in a dark suit had arrived.
He carried a leather briefcase and was speaking rapidly to the hotel manager.
Vanessa stood up as soon as she saw him.
"Finally.""
The man approached the judges' table.
"Good evening. I'm Robert Klein, legal counsel for Vale Atelier.""
Brianna rushed toward him.
"Robert, thank God.""
He placed his briefcase on the table.
"I've been informed of the allegations.""
Judge Harris nodded.
"Then you'll understand why the documents need to be preserved.""
Robert removed a folder.
"Actually, I have a document that resolves the ownership question.""
Nia stepped closer.
"What document?""
He opened the folder.
A certificate of assignment.
It carried a notary seal and a date from seven years earlier.
The transfer named Daniel Vale as the seller.
But this time, there was something different.
A second signature appeared beneath his.
*Eleanor Carter.*
Nia turned toward her grandmother.
Eleanor looked as though someone had struck her.
"That's not my signature.""
Robert adjusted his glasses.
"The document says otherwise.""
Eleanor stared at the page.
Then she whispered:
"I've never seen this before.""
Vanessa smiled faintly.
"Perhaps you signed it and forgot.""
Nia spun toward her.
"Don't you dare.""
Robert closed the folder.
"Miss Carter, I suggest you be careful. This document establishes legal ownership of the archive.""
Judge Harris frowned.
"Then why are you presenting it here rather than through the proper legal process?""
Robert smiled.
"Because my client wants to avoid a public scandal.""
He turned toward Brianna.
"Miss Vale has an announcement to make.""
Brianna looked confused.
"What announcement?""
Robert leaned close and whispered something.
Her face changed.
She looked toward the cameras.
Then toward Nia.
And finally toward the judges.
"I have decided to withdraw my entry," she announced.
The room fell silent.
Nia stared at her.
"You're withdrawing?""
"Yes.""
"Why?""
Brianna's eyes flickered toward Robert.
"Because I don't want to be part of this.""
Nia understood immediately.
Brianna wasn't admitting guilt.
She was trying to escape the investigation.
Robert picked up the folder.
"Good. Then we can all go home.""
But Judge Harris wasn't finished.
"Not so fast.""
He held up the inventory tag.
"There's still one question.""
Robert stopped.
"What question?""
Judge Harris looked at Brianna.
"Why does the dress's inventory tag identify it as Archive 17, when the garment is supposedly an original design created by your atelier?""
Robert said nothing.
Then Dr. Grant stepped forward.
"I have another question.""
She placed a photograph on the table.
It showed the inside of the gown's lining.
A tiny handwritten number was visible beneath the antique lace.
*32.*
Dr. Grant pointed at it.
"That's not a designer's label.""
Eleanor slowly stood.
Her face was suddenly full of recognition.
"It's a wedding registry number.""
Nia looked at her.
"What does that mean?""
Eleanor turned toward the gown.
"It means that dress wasn't created from a sketch in the archive.""
She swallowed.
"It was made from an actual wedding veil.""
Nia felt her blood turn cold.
"Which one?""
Eleanor stared at the number.
"Number thirty-two.""
Then she looked directly at Vanessa.
"That was the veil I made for your mother.""
May you like
Vanessa's face went completely blank.
And for the first time, she seemed to have no prepared answer.
