Chapter 9: The Name on the List
I drove to Vanessa's apartment that afternoon.
I hadn't wanted to see her.
Not after everything.
But the list she had found could contain the missing piece that connected Adrian's operation to the people who had helped him.
Gloria came with me.
Marcus insisted on staying behind to contact the attorney.
When we arrived, Vanessa was waiting near the entrance.
She looked nothing like the confident woman who had worn my champagne gown.
Her hair was tied back carelessly.
Her eyes were swollen.
She wore an oversized sweatshirt and held a thick brown folder against her chest.
“Thank you for coming,” she said.
I didn't answer.
Gloria stepped forward.
“Where did you get the folder?””
“Adrian left it in his office.””
“Did you open it?””
Vanessa nodded.
“I read everything.””
She handed the folder to me.
I opened it.
Inside were printed emails, payment records, photographs, and a spreadsheet containing several names.
The first entries were familiar.
Adrian Cole.
Vanessa Reed.
A.C. Atelier.
Whitmore Creative Holdings.
Then I saw a name that made me stop breathing.
*Ethan Brooks.*
My former studio manager.
The man who had helped me organize my suppliers, manage customer orders, and prepare my collection for the showcase.
The man who had called me after the studio closed and told me he was sorry he couldn't help.
The man who had once stood beside my grandmother's sewing table and promised he would protect my designs.
I looked up.
“Why is Ethan on this list?””
Vanessa rubbed her forehead.
“He helped Adrian access the studio.””
My stomach twisted.
“That's impossible.””
She shook her head.
“He provided the passwords.””
I looked down at the spreadsheet again.
There were several payments beside Ethan's name.
One for $8,000.
Another for $12,500.
A third payment was listed as a consulting fee.
I felt sick.
“He told me he didn't know what happened to my computer.””
Vanessa swallowed.
“He knew.””
Gloria took the folder from me.
“Did Adrian pay him to steal the files?””
Vanessa nodded.
“He gave Ethan money to copy the design archive and transfer it to the production company.””
I leaned against the wall.
For a moment, I couldn't move.
I had spent months blaming myself for trusting Vanessa.
But Ethan had been the person I trusted most inside my studio.
He had helped me close the doors on the final day.
He had carried my grandmother's sewing machine to storage.
He had even told me that he hoped I would start again someday.
And all that time, he had known exactly what happened.
I looked at Vanessa.
“Why are you telling me this now?””
She lowered her eyes.
“Because Adrian left me with the debt.””
I stared at her.
“What?””
“He moved the money through different accounts. When the company began asking questions, he transferred the remaining funds and disappeared.””
I shook my head.
“So now you're afraid.””
“Yes.””
“You weren't afraid when you wore my dress.””
She looked up.
“I know.””
“You weren't afraid when you told everyone I copied you.””
“I know.””
“You weren't afraid when my mother was in the hospital and you used that day to pretend I had signed away my work.””
Vanessa began crying.
“I didn't know about the hospital document.””
“But you knew about the designs.””
She nodded.
“Yes.””
“Did you know Ethan was involved?””
She hesitated.
Then she answered.
“I knew someone from your studio had provided the files. Adrian never told me who.””
I looked at the spreadsheet.
“Why didn't you ask?””
“Because I didn't want to know.””
The answer was so honest that it made me angrier.
Vanessa continued.
“I was afraid that if I asked too many questions, Adrian would stop helping me. I wanted the collection. I wanted the investors. I wanted people to look at me the way they looked at you.””
I stepped closer.
“So you decided to become me.””
She shook her head.
“No.””
“You wore my design. You used my name as a threat. You told people I was unstable. What exactly did you think you were doing?””
Vanessa wiped her face.
“I thought I could build something before anyone discovered the truth.””
“And when they did?””
She looked down.
“I thought I could blame you.””
The silence between us was unbearable.
Gloria turned away, covering her mouth.
I closed the folder.
“Where is Ethan now?””
Vanessa pointed to a page.
“Adrian arranged a meeting with him tomorrow morning. There's an address.””
I read it.
A private storage facility outside the city.
The note beside the address said:
Final archive transfer.
My heartbeat quickened.
“What archive?””
Vanessa shook her head.
“I don't know.””
I checked the date.
Tomorrow.
If Adrian was preparing to transfer the remaining files, he might still have original materials from my studio.
Perhaps the missing sketches.
Perhaps the original production records.
Perhaps even the computer he had taken.
I called Marcus.
He answered immediately.
“Nia?””
“There's a storage facility address in Adrian's records. I think they're planning another transfer.””
I gave him the location.
He was silent for a moment.
“Don't go there alone. I'll contact the attorney and the appropriate authorities.””
“Can you identify the property?””
“I'll try.””
I ended the call.
Vanessa sat on the edge of the sofa.
“Are you going to report Ethan?””
I looked at her.
“Yes.””
She nodded.
“I thought you would.””
I studied her face.
“Why are you helping me?””
She took a long breath.
“Because I can't keep pretending I didn't know.””
“That doesn't undo anything.””
“I know.””
“And it doesn't mean I forgive you.””
Her eyes filled again.
“I know that too.””
Gloria sat beside her daughter.
For a moment, they looked like any ordinary mother and daughter after a terrible argument.
But I couldn't forget what had happened.
I couldn't forget the woman who had smiled while wearing my dress.
Or the months I had spent rebuilding my life with nothing but borrowed equipment.
Vanessa looked at the folder.
“There is one more thing.””
I turned.
“What?””
She removed a small photograph from the back pocket.
It showed my old studio.
The cutting table.
The sewing machines.
The wall covered with sketches.
And standing near the computer was Ethan.
Beside him was Adrian.
The photograph had been taken on the night my archive disappeared.
I recognized the timestamp.
It was 11:47 p.m.
I stared at the image.
“Where did this come from?””
“Adrian's office.””
“Why did he keep it?””
Vanessa shook her head.
“I don't know.””
I turned the photograph over.
There was a handwritten note on the back.
Everything transferred. One original remains.
My blood ran cold.
“One original?””
Vanessa nodded.
“I think it's something Adrian kept separate from the production files.””
“What?””
She shook her head.
“I don't know.””
I studied the photograph again.
The computer was open.
The garment racks were empty.
And near the bottom of the frame, I noticed a small wooden box.
My grandmother's sewing box.
But it wasn't the box I had brought to the showcase.
It was another one.
The larger box she had kept in the locked cabinet beneath my cutting table.
I hadn't seen it since the night the studio closed.
My grandmother had used it to store her original patterns.
Inside were the first sketches of her most important designs, along with the handwritten records of her signature techniques.
I looked at Vanessa.
“Did you ever see this box?””
She nodded.
“Adrian took it.””
I felt the room spin.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“I didn't know what was inside until I saw the photographs.””
I looked at the note again.
One original remains.
I suddenly understood why Adrian had been so determined to control the story.
The five designs were valuable.
But the original pattern archive was worth far more.
It contained decades of my grandmother's work.
Some of those designs had never been publicly shown.
Others had been created for clients who had trusted her with their most personal occasions.
If Adrian sold that archive, he wouldn't just be selling my work.
He would be selling my grandmother's legacy.
I picked up my phone.
“We need to find that storage facility.””
Gloria stood.
“I'll come with you.””
“No. Marcus is arranging everything. We have to do this properly.””
Vanessa looked at me.
“Can I help?””
I stared at her for several seconds.
Then I said, “You can give the attorney every document you have. Every email. Every payment record.
Every conversation with Adrian. No omissions.””
She nodded.
“I will.””
“And if you remember anything else, you tell the truth.””
“I will.””
I turned toward the door.
Before I could leave, Vanessa spoke again.
“Nia?””
I stopped.
“I really did think your dress looked better on me.””
I turned slowly.
She looked at the floor.
“I thought if people loved me in it, maybe I could finally feel like I deserved something.””
I held her gaze.
“That's the problem, Vanessa. You wanted people to love you for something you hadn't made.””
She began crying.
I walked out.
Outside, the afternoon air was cold.
I stood beside my car and called Marcus again.
“Have you found anything?””
“Yes,” he replied.
My heart raced.
“What?””
“The storage facility belongs to a company registered under a different name. But there's something more important.””
“What?””
“The leaseholder is not Adrian Cole.””
I waited.
Marcus lowered his voice.
“The property is registered to Ethan Brooks.””
I closed my eyes.
My former studio manager.
The man who had helped Adrian steal my designs.
The man who had carried my sewing machine out of the building.
The man who had told me he was sorry.
I opened my eyes.
“Can the authorities secure the location?””
“They're reviewing the information now.””
I looked toward the road.
“Marcus, what if the original archive is inside?””
“Then we need to make sure it's recovered lawfully and properly documented.””
He paused.
“There's another reason you need to see the property records.””
“What reason?””
“The lease began two months before your studio closed.””
I felt my throat tighten.
Two months before.
That meant the storage facility hadn't been arranged after the theft.
It had been prepared in advance.
This wasn't a desperate opportunity.
It was a plan.
I looked down at the photograph in my hand.
The small wooden box.
The empty garment racks.
The man standing beside Adrian.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number appeared.
*Stop looking for the archive, Nia. Your grandmother left something behind that you were never supposed to find.*
I read it twice.
Then another message arrived.
*If you want to know what Adrian really stole, ask Gloria what happened the night Margaret died.*
I stared at the screen.
My grandmother had been dead for three years.
May you like
And suddenly, the mystery was no longer just about five stolen dresses.
It was about something my family had kept hidden long before Vanessa ever entered my studio.
