Chapter 15 - The Signature
The contract used Vanessa’s electronic signature.
Under Participant: Amara Lewis, Vanessa had signed as parent and legal guardian.
Legally, the situation was messy.
Morally, Amara found it simple.
She had said no.
Her mother had signed anyway.
The brand agreed to terminate the campaign after learning about Amara’s objection, but they demanded return of the advance.
Three thousand dollars.
Vanessa did not have it.
“What happens now?” Amara asked.
Renee sat beside her at the lawyer’s office.
Attorney Monica Hayes, a Black woman in her late forties, had spent twenty years handling trusts, guardianship issues, and family financial disputes.
“The company can pursue repayment,” Monica said. “But that is primarily between the company and your mother’s business.”
“And the custodial money?”
“I need records.”
“She won’t give them.”
“Then there are procedures.”
Amara looked toward the conference-room window.
“Would a judge make her?”
“Potentially.”
“Would this become public?”
“Court filings can create records. We would first try to resolve matters privately.”
Amara nodded.
Monica studied her.
“You’re allowed to be angry.”
“I know.”
“You’re also allowed to not know what consequence you want.”
That felt more accurate.
“I want her to stop.”
“Stop what?”
Amara thought.
“Changing reality until she’s the person who got hurt.”
Monica leaned back.
“That may be bigger than what a lawyer can accomplish.”
“I know.”
“But financial boundaries we can help with.”
Amara returned home carrying a formal written request for accounting.
Vanessa was sitting on the couch.
She looked at the envelope and laughed softly.
“So this is what we are now.”
“What?”
“Lawyers.”
“You had chances before lawyers.”
Vanessa looked wounded.
“My own daughter.”
“Please don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Say ‘my own daughter’ like I did something to you.”
Vanessa stood.
“You exposed me online.”
“I asked people to stop comparing us.”
“You went through my finances.”
“My account.”
“You brought Renee into our home.”
“She’s my aunt.”
“You hired a lawyer.”
“I’m seventeen. Renee hired her.”
Vanessa looked at the envelope.
“What do you want me to do? Sell the house?”
“If that’s what it takes to repay money that wasn’t yours, maybe.”
The sentence hurt both of them.
Vanessa’s eyes filled.
“You love this house.”
“So do you.”
“I built this life for you.”
“No.”
Amara’s voice was quiet.
“You built it so people would look at it.”
Vanessa flinched.
“That is cruel.”
“Is it wrong?”
Vanessa did not answer.
She opened the envelope.
Read the first page.
Then the second.
Her hands began trembling.
“I have ten days?”
“To respond.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Monica said there are other options.”
Vanessa looked at her.
“You would take me to court?”
Amara’s throat tightened.
“I hope you don’t make me.”
Vanessa dropped the papers on the table.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then Vanessa whispered, “You sound exactly like my mother.”
Amara went still.
“No.”
“You think rules make you righteous.”
“No.”
“You think money gives you power.”
“No.”
Vanessa’s voice rose.
“You think because you have paperwork—”
“Grandma competed with you.”
Amara’s voice cut through hers.
“She humiliated you. She made everything about herself.”
Vanessa stopped.
“And right now,” Amara continued, “you are using her name because you don’t want to look in the mirror.”
Vanessa’s face changed.
Amara glanced toward the decorative mirror above the fireplace.
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For once, Vanessa did not look at it.
She looked at the floor.
