Chapter 4: The File With My Mother's Name
The document on the giant screen was dated March 14, eighteen months earlier.
At the top was the logo of Hayes Luxury Group.
Beneath it was a heading:
*CONFIDENTIAL DESIGN ACQUISITION — ANGEL COLLECTION*
Then I saw the name.
*Denise Carter.*
My mother's name.
For several seconds, the runway seemed to disappear around me.
I gripped the edge of the backstage curtain.
"No," I whispered.
Camille, still wearing the pink gown, turned toward me.
"Nia?""
I couldn't answer.
The document contained a photograph of a design sketch. It showed a woman wearing a flowing pink gown with enormous ivory wings.
My gown.
Or something frighteningly close to it.
But beneath the photograph was a paragraph that made my stomach turn.
Original concept submitted by Denise Carter. All intellectual property rights transferred to Hayes Luxury Group upon acceptance of payment.
My mother's signature appeared beneath the statement.
I felt someone touch my shoulder.
Evelyn Brooks had stepped down from the judges' platform.
"Miss Carter, do you recognize this document?""
I stared at the screen.
"That's my mother's name.""
"Did she work for Hayes Luxury Group?""
"Never.""
Richard Hayes stood abruptly.
"Ms. Brooks, I don't believe this is appropriate.""
Evelyn didn't look at him.
"Mr. Hayes, your company submitted this document as evidence against a contestant. I think the judges have every right to examine it.""
Richard straightened his jacket.
"This is a confidential business agreement.""
"Then perhaps you shouldn't have used it to challenge a designer's eligibility.""
Victoria hurried toward the stage.
"There's no reason to turn this into a public spectacle.""
Evelyn finally looked at her.
"Your company made it public when it requested a change to Miss Carter's official classification.""
Victoria's jaw tightened.
I stepped forward.
"I want to see the original document.""
Richard shook his head.
"That's not necessary.""
"It has my mother's name on it. I want to see it.""
Lauren Parker, the company's attorney, approached the judges.
"The document contains proprietary information. We can provide a certified copy through the appropriate channels.""
I looked at her.
"Then why is it on your company's presentation screen?""
Nobody answered.
Evelyn turned toward the technical booth.
"Can you enlarge the signature?""
The image expanded.
My mother's signature was unmistakable.
Or at least, it looked unmistakable.
She had always signed her name with a small loop beneath the letter D. I remembered watching her do it on birthday cards, customer receipts, and the countless notes she left on my sewing table.
But something was wrong.
I leaned forward.
"Zoom in on the date.""
The technician enlarged the lower-right corner.
March 14.
Then I noticed a small detail.
The signature had been placed over a faint gray line.
My mother never signed on printed lines. She always signed slightly above them, leaving room for the date beneath.
This signature looked copied onto the document.
"That's not right," I said.
Richard gave a short laugh.
"Are you suggesting your mother's signature was forged?""
"I'm saying I don't believe she signed that document.""
Lauren Parker stepped forward.
"Miss Carter, you should be careful.""
I turned toward her.
"My mother was a seamstress in Atlanta. She never sold her designs to your company. She never traveled to New York during that period. And she certainly never gave away her work without telling me.""
Richard crossed his arms.
"People enter agreements without discussing every business decision with their families.""
I looked directly at him.
"My mother didn't have a business relationship with your family.""
Victoria interrupted.
"Maybe you simply didn't know everything about her.""
The words hit harder than I expected.
I stared at her.
"What does that mean?""
She smiled faintly.
"People have secrets, Nia.""
Camille stepped between us.
"Stop talking about her mother.""
Victoria ignored her.
"Perhaps Denise Carter was more involved in fashion than you realized.""
I felt my hands trembling.
Then Evelyn raised her microphone.
"Mr. Hayes, I have a question.""
Richard turned.
"Yes?""
"Why does this agreement identify Denise Carter as the original designer when the supporting complaint submitted to our committee identifies Nia Carter as the alleged infringer?""
Richard hesitated.
"Because the two designs are related.""
"How?""
"My company acquired the original concept from Denise Carter. Miss Carter subsequently presented a similar design.""
Evelyn looked toward the screen.
"Then why is the document dated eighteen months ago?""
Richard's expression tightened.
"Because that's when the acquisition occurred.""
I shook my head.
"Impossible.""
Evelyn looked at me.
"Why?""
"Because my mother died two years ago.""
A silence spread through the room.
Richard looked briefly toward Victoria.
Then he turned back to me.
"I'm sorry for your loss, but that doesn't invalidate the agreement.""
"She died before the date on that document.""
"Perhaps the agreement was executed earlier.""
"Then why does it have a date from eighteen months ago?""
Richard didn't answer.
Lauren Parker stepped forward.
"The document may reflect the date of registration rather than execution.""
Evelyn lowered her microphone.
"That's an important distinction. We'll need to verify it.""
Victoria looked furious.
"Dad, we should leave.""
But Richard remained standing.
"There's nothing to verify. The company has the records.""
Evelyn's expression became cold.
"Then producing them should be easy.""
The audience began murmuring.
A judge seated near the center leaned toward the microphone.
"Until this matter is resolved, I recommend suspending the intellectual property allegation and allowing the contestant to complete her presentation.""
Richard turned sharply.
"That would be irresponsible.""
The judge didn't blink.
"So would disqualifying a designer based on an unverified document.""
For a moment, I thought the argument might end there.
Then Richard said something that changed everything.
"Fine. But I want everyone to understand that Hayes Luxury Group has a separate licensing agreement concerning the original Angel Collection.""
My heart stopped.
"Licensing agreement?"" I repeated.
Victoria looked at her father.
He ignored her.
"Miss Carter's use of the design may expose her to legal action.""
I stared at him.
"My design?""
"Your presentation resembles protected company property.""
I almost laughed.
"You've just shown the entire room a document with my dead mother's name on it, and now you're threatening me for creating something she taught me to make?""
Richard's face hardened.
"That's not what I said.""
"It is exactly what you said.""
Evelyn stepped between us.
"Mr. Hayes, this conversation is over for now.""
She turned toward me.
"Miss Carter, please continue with your presentation.""
I looked toward Camille.
She was standing beneath the lights, waiting.
Her expression was calm, but her eyes were asking whether I was ready.
I nodded.
The music resumed.
Camille walked forward.
The pink skirt moved beautifully beneath the stage lights. The ivory wings opened into their full shape as she turned, catching the light with every feather.
The audience began applauding.
Not politely.
Not out of sympathy.
They were genuinely impressed.
I watched Camille reach the end of the runway.
She turned slowly, allowing the audience to see the back construction.
The surviving blue crystals sparkled against the pink silk.
For one brief moment, I forgot about Richard Hayes.
I forgot about Victoria.
I saw only my mother's hands guiding mine through difficult stitches.
Then Camille returned backstage.
She hugged me.
"You did it.""
I laughed through my tears.
"We did it.""
Evelyn approached with a smile.
"That was extraordinary, Nia.""
"Thank you.""
"Your mother would have loved it.""
I looked at her.
"I wish she could have seen it.""
Evelyn squeezed my hand.
"Perhaps she helped you create more of it than you realize.""
Before I could respond, a production assistant approached.
"Miss Carter, someone is asking to speak with you.""
"Who?""
The assistant looked uncertain.
"An older gentleman. He says he knew your mother.""
My heartbeat quickened.
"What's his name?""
"Arthur Bell.""
I froze.
Arthur Bell.
The name sounded familiar.
Then I remembered an old photograph from my mother's sewing room.
A younger version of my mother stood beside a tall Black man wearing a tailor's apron. Both were smiling, surrounded by mannequins and fabric rolls.
On the back, my mother had written:
Denise and Arthur. The beginning of everything.
I looked toward the hallway.
"Where is he?""
The assistant pointed.
"Waiting near the loading entrance.""
I started walking.
But before I reached the hallway, my phone vibrated.
An email had arrived.
The subject line read:
*URGENT: NOTICE OF INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY VIOLATION — NIA CARTER.*
I opened it.
The attached document contained a demand for immediate removal of my gown from the competition.
And at the bottom was a signature authorizing legal action.
Richard Hayes.
But the attachment included something else.
A second document.
A photograph of my mother's old sewing-room computer.
I stared at it.
The computer had been stored in my apartment in Atlanta.
Someone had photographed it recently.
And beneath the photograph was a single sentence.
Your mother left something behind. Find it before they do.
I looked up.
Arthur Bell was standing at the end of the hallway.
He was holding an old leather folder.
May you like
And when he saw me, he said the one thing I never expected to hear.
"Nia, your mother didn't sell that design. She was trying to stop your father from selling it.""
