Chapter 2 - THE GIRL THEY LEFT IN THE SLEET
“Victor, if that girl disappears because of what you did tonight, I will make sure you never work in this city again.”
Daniel Ellis spoke so quietly that Victor Hale almost missed the threat.
Almost.
The manager stood beneath the glittering chandeliers of Hale Atelier, surrounded by evening gowns worth more than most Chicago families earned in a year.
“Mr. Ellis, I understand you're upset,” Victor said smoothly. “But that employee violated company policy. She had no authorization to alter your mother's dress.”
Daniel looked at him.
“My mother says the dress was ruined.”
“It required professional attention.”
“And the woman you fired repaired it perfectly.”
Victor's jaw tightened.
“She was hired to clean.”
Daniel took one step closer.
“What's her name?”
“I don't believe that's relevant.”
“Her name, Victor.”
“Leah Mercer.”
The instant Daniel heard the surname, something changed in his expression.
“Mercer?”
Victor noticed.
“Yes. Is there a problem?”
Daniel didn't answer.
Behind him, Eleanor Ellis stood with one hand pressed against her navy gown.
At seventy-four, she had survived the death of her husband, two heart surgeries, and the loss of a child. She rarely raised her voice.
But now her hands were trembling.
“Daniel,” she whispered. “You need to find that girl.”
“I will.”
“No.” Eleanor caught his wrist. “You don't understand.”
She opened her evening purse and removed a faded photograph.
Daniel recognized it immediately.
His younger sister, Charlotte, sat in a hospital wheelchair wearing a little blue velvet jacket.
Charlotte had died twenty-one years earlier, at only ten years old.
Daniel had been twenty-one then, old enough to understand every doctor's warning and still young enough to believe that loving someone fiercely could somehow keep them alive.
On Charlotte's jacket, just above the inside pocket, was a tiny embroidered butterfly.
Six delicate stitches formed each wing.
One silver stitch joined them.
Exactly like the butterfly Leah had sewn into Eleanor's dress.
Daniel's throat tightened.
“Where did you get this photograph?”
“Your father's old desk,” Eleanor whispered. “I found it last month.”
Daniel stared at the picture.
He remembered the woman who had made that jacket.
She had visited Charlotte at the hospital with a battered sewing basket, dark hair pinned loosely behind her head, and a gentle smile.
Charlotte had complained that her hospital clothes made her feel like a patient instead of a little girl.
The woman had stayed up all night making her a beautiful jacket that accommodated her medical equipment.
She hadn't charged them a penny.
Her name had been Rose Mercer.
Daniel looked toward the service exit.
“Get my car.”
His driver moved immediately.
Victor stepped forward.
“Mr. Ellis, surely we can settle this without causing a scene.”
Daniel turned.
“You've already caused one.”
Then he left.
Leah Mercer had never felt so cold.
The Chicago sleet had soaked through her coat, and the bus shelter offered little protection against the wind coming off Lake Michigan.
She sat with her mother's sketchbook pressed against her chest.
Her phone displayed three missed calls from an unfamiliar number.
She ignored them.
Another notification appeared.
YOUR EMPLOYMENT WITH HALE ATELIER HAS BEEN TERMINATED EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY.
She stared at the message.
Four years.
Four years of scrubbing floors, steaming gowns, hauling boxes, and staying after closing to finish work the salaried seamstresses refused to do.
Victor had promised her a promotion every six months.
Every six months, something changed.
The budget was frozen.
The position had been eliminated.
The board needed more time.
Then he had announced his apprenticeship contest.
Employees could submit original sketches, and the winning designs would earn the creator a permanent position on the design team.
Leah had submitted twelve.
Victor had personally praised her work.
Three weeks later, he told her the contest had been canceled.
Now those same designs appeared in Hale Atelier's upcoming luxury collection.
Under Victor's name.
Leah swallowed hard.
Her mother had warned her about people who praised talent only when they could profit from it.
But Leah had wanted to believe she had finally earned something.
A black SUV stopped near the curb.
She immediately stood.
The rear door opened.
A tall man wearing a charcoal overcoat stepped out into the sleet.
“Leah Mercer?”
She recognized him from magazine covers.
Daniel Ellis.
His family's development company owned several of Chicago's most recognizable buildings. He funded medical research, renovated hospitals, and rarely appeared in public without someone photographing him.
Leah backed away.
“If Mr. Hale sent you, please tell him I didn't steal anything.”
Daniel stopped.
“He didn't send me.”
“Then what do you want?”
“To apologize.”
She blinked.
“For what?”
“For how you were treated.”
Leah almost laughed.
“Your mother's dress is fine. I checked the seam three times. You don't need to worry about it falling apart.”
“I'm not worried about the dress.”
He studied her face.
“Did your mother teach you to sew?”
Leah tightened her grip on the sketchbook.
“Yes.”
“Rose Mercer?”
The wind seemed to disappear.
Leah stared at him.
“How do you know my mother's name?”
Daniel reached into his coat and showed her his phone.
The screen displayed an old photograph of a smiling little girl in a wheelchair.
Leah looked at the jacket.
Then the butterfly.
Her breath caught.
“My mother made that.”
“I know.”
“Who is she?”
“My sister.”
Leah looked back at the photograph.
“Charlotte Ellis?”
Daniel nodded.
Leah covered her mouth.
Her mother had told her about Charlotte.
Not often.
Only on difficult nights, when the electricity had been disconnected or another job application had been rejected.
She would take out a small box of photographs and tell Leah about a little girl who loved butterflies.
She wanted to feel beautiful even when she was sick, Rose would say. So I made sure she did.
Leah remembered the way her mother smiled whenever she told that story.
Then she remembered something else.
The name Ellis.
She took a step back.
“Your father was Philip Ellis.”
Daniel nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
Leah's expression hardened.
“Then you need to leave.”
“Leah—”
“Please.”
“Whatever happened between our families, I don't know the whole story.”
“My mother lost everything because of your family.”
Daniel went still.
Leah opened her sketchbook with shaking hands.
Between delicate drawings of evening gowns and handwritten measurements was a folded newspaper clipping.
Its headline had faded, but the words remained legible.
LOCAL DESIGNER ACCUSED OF STEALING LUXURY FASHION COLLECTION
Underneath was a photograph of Rose Mercer leaving a courthouse.
Her face was hidden behind one hand.
Leah pointed to the article.
“She was the most talented person I ever knew. She made beautiful things for people who couldn't afford them. She worked until her fingers bled.”
Her voice cracked.
“And after your father accused her of stealing designs, nobody wanted to hire her.”
Daniel took the article.
He recognized his father's name.
Philip Ellis had served as an investor in a fashion company called Hale House.
Daniel remembered the scandal vaguely.
He had been building his first real estate project in another state when it happened.
His father had called it an unfortunate business dispute.
Nothing more.
“Leah, I had no idea—”
“Of course you didn't.”
She reached for the clipping.
“People like your father can destroy someone's reputation and forget about it over dinner.”
Daniel didn't argue.
Because he had no evidence she was wrong.
Instead, he removed his overcoat.
“You're freezing.”
“I don't need your coat.”
“Then consider it a loan from my mother. She'd be furious if I left you out here.”
Leah hesitated.
She was cold enough that her teeth hurt.
Finally, she accepted it.
Daniel stepped back, giving her room.
“There's a lawyer I trust. Her name is Katherine Price. She specializes in commercial fraud and intellectual property disputes.”
Leah shook her head.
“I can't afford a lawyer.”
“You won't have to.”
“And what do you expect in return?”
“Nothing.”
She gave him a tired look.
“That's what rich people always say before they hand you something to sign.”
Daniel almost smiled.
Almost.
“My mother raised me better than that.”
“My mother warned me about yours.”
The words landed harder than Leah intended.
Daniel looked toward the street.
“Then maybe both our mothers know something we don't.”
For the first time, Leah looked at him with something other than anger.
He took out a business card.
“Call Katherine tomorrow. Speak with her without me present. You can decide what happens next.”
Leah accepted the card.
But she didn't promise anything.
Her bus approached through the sleet.
Daniel stepped aside.
Before boarding, Leah turned.
“One more thing, Mr. Ellis.”
“Yes?”
“My mother never stopped drawing. Even after nobody would hire her.”
Daniel nodded.
“She sounds extraordinary.”
“She was.”
Leah's eyes filled.
“And she died believing the world thought she was a thief.”
The bus doors opened.
Daniel had no answer.
He watched Leah climb aboard.
Then his phone rang.
It was Eleanor.
“Did you find her?”
“Yes.”
“Is she safe?”
“For now.”
Eleanor was silent.
Then she whispered something Daniel hadn't expected.
“Did she tell you what happened to Rose?”
“She told me Father ruined her career.”
Eleanor made a small, frightened sound.
“Daniel, your father didn't tell you everything.”
“What do you mean?”
A long silence followed.
Finally, Eleanor said, “Come home. There's something I should have shown you years ago.”
On the bus, Leah opened her mother's sketchbook again.
She turned to the final pages.
Most were covered with sketches.
But inside the back cover, Rose had written a message in blue ink.
Leah had seen it hundreds of times.
Tonight, however, she noticed something she had never noticed before.
The paper beneath the message was unusually thick.
She carefully separated the two layers.
A small envelope slipped into her lap.
Her name was written across it.
FOR LEAH — ONLY IF THE ELLIS FAMILY COMES LOOKING.
Leah's hands trembled.
She opened it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
Her mother's handwriting was unmistakable.
My darling girl,
If someone named Ellis ever comes asking about the butterfly, remember this: I did not steal those designs.
And I was not the person who betrayed that family.
The proof survived.
But the person who hid it is still alive.
Beneath those words was one final sentence.
Don't trust Daniel Ellis until you know what his father did in Warehouse B.
Leah stared at the letter.
Then her phone vibrated.
An unknown number had sent a photograph.
It showed her standing at the bus stop with Daniel.
The picture had been taken only minutes earlier.
Below it were seven words.
YOUR MOTHER SHOULD HAVE KEPT HER MOUTH SHUT.
May you like
And then another message appeared.
SHE WASN'T THE ONLY ONE WHO PAID.
