Chapter 4: The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
For several seconds, nobody moved.
The footsteps above them stopped.
Mia stood behind her father, clutching the edge of his jacket. Richard Hale held the metal document box against his chest, his eyes fixed on the staircase.
Then the voice came again.
"Daniel, I know you're down there.""
Daniel's face had lost all color.
Mia whispered, "Who is that?""
Her father didn't answer.
Richard stepped closer to him.
"Tell me I'm hearing things.""
Daniel shook his head.
"I wish I could.""
The footsteps resumed.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
A shadow appeared across the bottom of the staircase.
Then a man descended into the storage room.
He was tall, with neatly combed gray hair and a charcoal suit. His expensive leather shoes made almost no sound against the wooden steps. A silver watch gleamed beneath his sleeve.
He looked older than the photograph in the studio.
But Mia recognized the face.
It was the man standing beside her mother in several of the old pictures.
"Mr. Mercer," Richard whispered.
The man smiled.
"Still recognizing people, Richard. That's something.""
His name was Victor Mercer.
Five years earlier, Victor had been reported dead following a private aircraft accident outside Chicago. His business partner, Eleanor Whitmore, had organized a memorial service attended by some of the country's wealthiest designers.
Grace had attended the memorial shortly before her own disappearance from the fashion industry.
Now Victor stood in front of them, very much alive.
Richard's voice hardened.
"You were declared dead.""
Victor adjusted his cufflinks.
"An unfortunate misunderstanding.""
"An aircraft accident?""
"An insurance matter.""
Richard stared at him.
"You're telling me you faked your death?""
Victor smiled without warmth.
"I'm telling you that some people understand business better than others.""
Mia stepped out from behind Daniel.
"Did you hurt my mother?""
Victor looked down at her.
For the first time, his smile disappeared.
"You're Grace's daughter.""
"Yes.""
"She had the same eyes.""
Mia clenched her fists.
"Answer me.""
Victor glanced at Daniel.
"Your father hasn't told you everything, has he?""
Daniel stepped forward.
"Stay away from her.""
Victor laughed.
"Now you want to play the protective father?""
Daniel's jaw tightened.
Richard placed the document box on a nearby table.
"Why are you here, Victor?""
"To retrieve company property.""
"These documents belong to Grace Carter.""
"Grace was compensated.""
"By whom?""
Victor shrugged.
"That's a legal matter.""
Richard lifted the forged certificate.
"Then explain this signature. Grace was dead when this agreement was supposedly signed.""
Victor looked at the paper.
He didn't seem surprised.
"Forgery is a serious accusation.""
"Is it inaccurate?""
Victor reached into his jacket and produced a pair of leather gloves.
"Richard, you have spent your entire life judging the work of other people. You should understand that the person who owns the final product isn't necessarily the person who created it.""
Mia stared at him.
"That's not true.""
Victor looked at her.
"Excuse me?""
"My mom made those dresses. You didn't.""
Victor smiled again.
"Your mother was a talented seamstress. But talent alone doesn't make someone a businesswoman.""
"She was a designer.""
"She was an employee.""
"She was my mother.""
The room fell silent.
Victor's expression hardened.
"Yes. She was.""
He turned toward Daniel.
"Give me the box.""
Daniel shook his head.
"No.""
Victor sighed.
"I was hoping we could avoid this.""
Richard moved closer to the table.
"You're not taking anything.""
Victor glanced toward the stairs.
"Actually, I think you'll find that I've brought the appropriate people to help me.""
Two men appeared at the top.
One wore a security uniform. The other carried a black briefcase.
Victor gestured toward the documents.
"Everything in this room belongs to Whitmore Atelier. We have an inventory and a court order authorizing the recovery of company assets.""
Richard examined the paper Victor handed him.
His eyebrows drew together.
"This order is dated today.""
"Efficient, isn't it?""
"It doesn't authorize you to remove privately owned personal property.""
Victor smiled.
"Then I suggest you call a lawyer.""
Daniel looked at the security officers.
"You're trespassing.""
One of them shrugged.
"We're following instructions.""
Mia reached for the small silver key in her pocket.
She remembered her mother's letter.
Your father knows where the original collection is hidden.
But the original collection was already here.
Unless...
She looked at the cabinet.
At the back, beneath the lowest shelf, a small brass plate was barely visible.
She crouched.
"What are you doing?"" Daniel whispered.
Mia pressed her fingers against the plate.
It moved.
Behind it was a narrow compartment.
Inside lay a small black notebook wrapped in faded blue fabric.
Mia pulled it out.
Victor's face changed.
"Put that down.""
Mia froze.
Richard looked at the notebook.
"What is it?""
Victor took a step forward.
"That doesn't belong to you.""
Mia held it tighter.
"My mother's name is on it.""
Victor's voice sharpened.
"Give it to me.""
Daniel moved between them.
"No.""
Victor looked toward the security officers.
"Take it.""
The first man started down the stairs.
But Richard immediately raised his voice.
"Don't touch that child.""
The officer hesitated.
Richard pointed toward the camera mounted near the studio entrance.
"This entire building is under surveillance. Every word you've said is being recorded.""
Victor looked up.
For the first time, uncertainty crossed his face.
Richard continued.
"And I've already sent copies of the documents to three journalists and two attorneys.""
It wasn't entirely true.
But Victor didn't know that.
The man stopped.
Daniel used the moment to pull Mia toward the far side of the room.
"Come on.""
They hurried through a narrow doorway that led into the old sewing area.
Richard followed, carrying the document box.
Victor shouted behind them.
"Don't let them leave!""
A chair crashed.
Someone cursed.
Daniel pushed open a side door, and cold night air rushed into the room.
They emerged into a narrow alley behind the building.
Rain fell heavily.
Mia held the notebook beneath her dress.
Daniel grabbed her hand.
"Run!""
They reached the car parked around the corner.
Richard unlocked it.
Mia climbed into the back seat.
Daniel followed.
Richard started the engine.
As the car pulled away, Mia looked through the rear window.
Victor stood beneath the studio's entrance light.
He wasn't running after them.
He was smiling.
And he was holding a phone against his ear.
They drove for nearly twenty minutes before Richard finally spoke.
"Daniel, we need to know what that notebook contains.""
Daniel looked at Mia.
"Not until we're somewhere safe.""
Richard glanced at him.
"Safe from whom?""
"Everyone.""
Mia opened the notebook.
The first page contained her mother's handwriting.
There were dates, measurements, fabric orders, and lists of names.
But one name appeared repeatedly.
Victor Mercer.
Beside it were several entries marked with red ink.
Mia turned another page.
Then she stopped.
There was a photograph tucked between two sheets.
It showed Grace sitting beside a hospital bed.
A little girl lay beneath a white blanket.
Mia stared at the photograph.
"That's me.""
Daniel looked back.
His hands tightened around the steering wheel.
"Where did you get that?""
"It was in Mom's notebook.""
Richard leaned toward the photograph.
"What hospital is that?""
Daniel didn't answer.
Mia turned the picture over.
On the back, Grace had written:
*THE NIGHT I LEARNED WHAT THEY HAD DONE TO MY DAUGHTER.*
Mia looked at her father.
"What does this mean?""
Daniel kept driving.
His silence was becoming unbearable.
"Dad!""
He finally spoke.
"When you were five, you became very sick.""
"I remember the hospital.""
"You had a serious allergic reaction.""
"To what?""
Daniel swallowed.
"Something your mother believed was deliberately given to you.""
Mia stopped breathing for a moment.
Richard looked at him.
"Are you saying someone tried to poison her?""
Daniel's eyes filled.
"I don't know.""
"Who was with her that night?""
Daniel glanced at the rearview mirror.
"Your mother. Me. Eleanor.""
Mia stared at him.
"Eleanor was there?""
Daniel nodded.
"She was the one who brought you the drink.""
Mia looked down at the photograph.
The woman who had gripped her arm at the fashion show.
The woman who had told her to stay silent.
The woman who had stolen her mother's work.
She had been there when Mia was hospitalized.
Mia turned the page.
A sentence appeared in Grace's handwriting.
*IF MIA EVER REMEMBERS THE BLUE CUP, TELL HER THE TRUTH.*
Mia's fingers went cold.
She remembered something.
A blue plastic cup.
A sweet smell.
Her mother screaming.
And a woman standing in the hospital corridor, telling a doctor that everything was an accident.
Mia slowly looked up.
"I remember her.""
Daniel's voice broke.
"Who?""
"Eleanor.""
He nearly missed the turn.
Mia pressed the notebook against her chest.
"She was the woman who brought me the drink.""
Richard looked out the window.
The rain continued beating against the glass.
Then Daniel's phone rang.
An unknown number.
He answered.
A woman's voice came through the speaker.
Soft.
Calm.
Terrifyingly familiar.
"Daniel, darling. You really shouldn't have opened that room.""
Daniel's face turned white.
May you like
Eleanor continued.
"Because now I know where Grace hid the original recording.""
