Chapter 7 - THE MAN BEHIND THE ROSE
Niko had not spoken his uncle's name in nine years.
Not in public.
Not in private.
Not even during the long nights when memories of Lorenzo's funeral kept him awake.
Salvatore Moretti had disappeared after Lorenzo's death.
Officially, he had fled the country.
Unofficially, people whispered that Niko had killed him.
Ava studied the photograph.
“He looks like you.”
“Unfortunately.”
Niko took the picture.
“My father and Salvatore built their business together. Then Salvatore began moving money through companies my father wanted nothing to do with.”
“What kind of companies?”
“Luxury imports. Shell distributors. Counterfeit goods.”
Ava looked around the room.
“Fashion.”
“Yes.”
The connection settled between them.
Victoria had stolen Eleanor's designs.
Salvatore had moved money through fashion businesses.
Lorenzo had owned Bellwether.
And Eleanor had hidden evidence.
“Did your father know?”
Niko's expression darkened.
“He knew enough to become dangerous to his brother.”
Ava opened the notebook.
Page after page contained dates, signatures, fabric specifications, and handwritten notes.
Some were technical.
Others were personal.
One sentence stopped her.
THEY THINK I ONLY UNDERSTAND CLOTH. THEY FORGET CLOTH CAN CARRY A RECORD.
Ava stared.
“What does that mean?”
Niko leaned closer.
She turned another page.
There were diagrams of seams.
Hidden pockets.
Double linings.
Tiny embroidered marks.
Ava recognized the technique.
Her mother had used it in the emerald dress.
The raised ridge along the hem.
The place Ava had refused to cut.
Eleanor had hidden the key inside a seam.
But perhaps that wasn't the only thing she had hidden.
***
They searched the garment bags.
Inside were unfinished gowns.
Coats.
Jackets.
Even children's dresses.
Each carried a black rose stitched somewhere discreetly into the lining.
Ava examined one.
The embroidery wasn't decorative.
The petals formed numbers.
Four digits.
Then six.
Then three.
She looked at another garment.
Different numbers.
A pattern.
Niko watched her work.
“You understand it?”
“Not yet.”
Ava spread the garments across the table.
Her mother's notes referred to something called the Rose Ledger.
Not a book.
Not a digital file.
A record encoded through garment construction.
Each piece contained part of a financial transaction.
Dates.
Amounts.
Account references.
Names.
Ava felt a strange surge of pride.
Her mother had used the one skill everyone underestimated to preserve evidence powerful men had tried to destroy.
“She made the clothes into records.”
Niko looked at the embroidered roses.
“Yes.”
Ava smiled.
“They thought she was just a dressmaker.”
***
Then they found the final garment.
A white evening coat.
The black rose embroidered beneath the collar was larger than the others.
Ava examined the stitches.
The sequence translated into a date.
November 14.
Eighteen years earlier.
Below it was a name.
SALVATORE MORETTI.
Niko stared.
Ava looked at him.
“Your uncle was there.”
“Yes.”
“On the night Mom was hurt.”
“Yes.”
Niko's jaw tightened.
“Then my father knew more than he told me.”
***
They brought the garments to a secure workshop.
Ava spent the next three days decoding the embroidery.
Niko provided accountants, attorneys, and archival records.
But Ava led the work.
She understood the stitches.
The others understood the money.
Together they uncovered a network of shell companies that had stolen design rights, laundered funds, and financed criminal operations through luxury manufacturing.
Victoria's name appeared repeatedly.
So did Salvatore's.
Richard's appeared less often.
But it appeared.
Ava stared at the records.
“My father knew.”
Niko stood beside her.
“Yes.”
“And he let me work for Bianca for free.”
His expression changed.
“Why?”
Ava looked up.
“Because if I became successful on my own, someone might eventually ask where my mother's designs went.”
Niko said nothing.
She continued.
“They didn't just steal Mom's work.”
Her voice broke.
“They made sure I never had enough money or influence to question it.”
***
On the fourth evening, Bianca arrived at the workshop.
Matteo tried to stop her.
Ava told him to let her in.
Bianca stood in the doorway wearing a designer coat and expensive sunglasses.
She looked exhausted.
The gala scandal had spread across social media.
Videos of the torn dress had millions of views.
The Whitmore Foundation had suspended its fashion program.
Bianca's sponsors were withdrawing.
She looked at Ava.
“You ruined everything.”
Ava put down her pencil.
“No.”
Bianca's face twisted.
“You could have just apologized.”
“For something I didn't do?”
“You always have to make yourself the victim.”
Ava stood.
“Bianca, you tore my dress.”
“You stole my future.”
“I designed your future.”
Silence.
Bianca's eyes filled.
“You think I don't know?”
Ava froze.
Bianca laughed bitterly.
“I know you made the collection.”
“Then why did you claim it?”
“Because Mom told me it was mine.”
“You believed her?”
Bianca looked away.
“For a while.”
Ava felt the truth settle.
Bianca had known.
Not everything.
But enough.
Then Bianca reached into her handbag.
She placed a small envelope on the table.
“Mom sent me to get this.”
Ava didn't touch it.
“What is it?”
Bianca swallowed.
“A contract.”
“For what?”
Bianca's voice trembled.
“She wants you to sign away everything your mother ever created.”
Ava stared.
“Why would I do that?”
Bianca looked toward the door.
“Because she says if you don't…”
Her eyes filled with terror.
May you like
“…she'll make sure Eleanor Monroe never leaves that care facility alive.”
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